I love him. It’s killing me. Every second being away from him feels like someone carved out a piece of my chest and forgot to stitch it back. He doesn’t have to say it. I know he does. He proved it with everything he did for me, the pool he built just because I teased about wanting one, the coffee left on my porch at dawn, the way he ran into a burning barn to pull me out, the way he held me like I was the only thing keeping him steady. I left to prove a point. All I did was hurt myself.
“Layla?”
I blink. Tina’s voice cuts through the fog.
“Hello… Layla? You’re zoning out on us,” she says in that sing-song tone she uses when she’s trying to be gentle but still wants your attention.
“Yeah. Blue. Perfect.” I murmur, still staring out the window, not really seeing anything.
“Are you okay?” Tina asks, brow creasing.
I take a deep breath—the air tastes like a recycled office and rain. I turn to face her, then the rest of the team. Their faces are expectant, confused.
“I’m sorry, Tina. I can’t do this.”
The room goes quiet. Walt’s pen stops tapping. Someone shifts in their chair.
“I need to go home.”
Tina blinks. “You just got home.”
“No.” I bite my lip, feel the sting of it. “Home to Tennessee.”
I stand up, slow, deliberate, grabbing my bag, slinging it over my shoulder. My laptop and notebook are already inside, heavy against my hip. I walk toward the door, heels clicking on the polished floor. Halfway there, I turn back.
“I don’t have to be here, in Seattle, to be an author. If you don’t want to publish it, I will do it on my own—from my home in Tennessee—”
“What is in Tennessee?” Walt asks, genuinely puzzled.
I smile—small, real, the first real one in days.
“My family.”
I turn and walk out. As the door swings shut behind me, I say over my shoulder:
“I’ll be waiting on an email.”
The hallway is quiet except for the echo of my heels and the muffled sound of rain. My heart is pounding so hard I can feel it in my throat. I don’t stop. I don’t look back. I just keep walking—past reception, past the elevators, straight to the exit.
The biggest smile ever is on my face and I feel a tear slide down my cheek. But all I see is him.
The airport is crowded, too bright, too loud, too many voices overlapping. My knee bounces under the gate seat, restless energy I can’t burn off. I stare at the boarding pass on my phone: Seattle to Atlanta, Atlanta to Knoxville, then a rental car drive to Clover. Two flights. Too many hours. Not enough time.
When it’s finally time to board, I settle into my window seat—cold vinyl against my thighs, the faint smell of recycled air and coffee. I pull out my laptop, open a blank document. Emotions like this deserve to be on a page. Maybe a new book. Maybe a novella. Who knows. But he is my inspiration. He is what motivates me. I’ll be in his arms tomorrow.
Chapter 37
I need time
Cole
“So what’s your plan?” Maggie asks me, voice cutting through the rain drumming on the tin roof.
“I’m going to go out to the pasture and fix the fence. I’ll camp out tonight and get it done.” I say, packing my bag—sleeping roll, flashlight, water, a couple protein bars, the axe still warm from use.
“I’ll take Buttercup.”
Maggie grabs my arm—her grip firm, rain dripping from her hat brim onto my sleeve.
