Page 85 of Slow Burn

Lyla doesn’t hold back her emotions, at least not anymore. She tried for a brief period of time, but over the last few weeks I think I managed to convince Lyla that her ability to feel and communicate her feelings is one of her greatest strengths.

She’s even helped me open up, a feat I never thought anyone would be able to accomplish. I admire her for the way she moves through the world, allowing all of her feelings and experiencing them all.

So, this version of Lyla? Completely shut down and closed off? I don’t fucking like it.

I turn in when we get to Wild Sage, the truck bumping down the gravel driveway. I drive past the main house so I can drop her off closer to the guest house. When I throw the truck in park, neither of us make a move to get out.

“Talk to me, Trouble,” I say evenly. “What’s going on? You’ve been quiet the whole drive home.”

I don’t know what I’m expecting Lyla to say, if I’m expecting her to burst out in tears, or start yelling, but I’m prepared for anything, her whole range of emotions.

I’m not prepared for the way she chews on her bottom lip as a tear rolls down her cheek. Nor am I prepared for the way she refuses to meet my eyeline.

My shoulders drop. This is about me.

“I don’t want to talk about it, Beck.” Her voice quivers with sadness, and something else. Restraint.

She’s speaking as if she’s defusing a bomb, as if all of her focus and concentration is homed in on not exploding. I get it, she’s working on her composure. But I thought our relationship was different. I want her to be fully herself with me. No holding back.

Lyla reaches for the door handle and gets out of the truck, reaching in the bed for her weekend bag. I follow suit so I can catch her before she goes inside, before she closes the door on this and I no longer have a way in.

“What happened?” I ask, reaching out for her, but she pulls back from me, reeling as if my touch physically hurts her. A sharp pang stabs at my chest. I would never do anything to hurt her. “Tell me. What is it?”

She looks up at me with shrink-wrapped eyes. “If I say anything now, Beck. I’m going to get upset and angry, and I won’t be able to take it back.”

“Then get upset. Get fucking angry. I can handle it, Trouble. I can handle you. So if you have something to say to me, let me have it. But don’t, for the love of god, shrink yourself just to make me comfortable. That’s not what we are.”

She rubs her fingers between her brows and lets out a steadying breath, not as if she’s trying to calm herself down, but as if she’s gearing up. Good. I meant what I said when I told her I wanted all of her. All the beautiful and wonderful things about Lyla, but all the parts she hides away because she thinks they’re ugly.

They’re not ugly. Nothing about her is.

Lyla is the most stunningly gorgeous woman I have ever met, even when she’s burning like a wildfire, hot and furious.

“Okay, fine. Here it is.” She looks up at me, her eyes like molten amber. “You’re a sell out, Beck.”

Her words hit me like a ton of bricks, leaving me winded and unable to respond. I open and close my mouth a few times but no words come out. She must have seen the text come through this morning. It explains the sudden change in her demeanour.

It’s not what she thinks, but I don’t have a way to explain it that makes it better. The reality is, I was considering selling out. I was thinking about selling all of it, and how much lighter my burden would be if I didn’t have all of this to manage.

“I wanted to know what we could get for it, that’s it,” I explain, but Lyla is already shaking her head, her brows bunched together like she still doesn’t understand, like she’ll never understand.

“It doesn’t matter. Intention is different than impact,” she says, her voice rising and cracking with her mounting emotion. “I thought you were someone with integrity, that you knew your own mind and weren’t swayed by people’s opinions. I thought you’d do anything to stand by the people you love. But even considering selling the ranch? Jesus, Beck. I don’t think I ever knew you at all.”

Tears stream down her face as her chest heaves, and my heart cracks in two.

I would give anything to take it back, to never have entertained the idea of selling the ranch in the first place. All I want is to reach out to touch her, to hold her, to show her how badly this is breaking me, because words have never come easy for me, and they have never been enough. I don’t know how to express myself like she can.

“I only reached out to them because you told me to look at every viable option. Selling was a viable option at the time. But it’s not anymore, Lyla and I see that now.”

Lyla looks as if I struck her, a fresh wave of tears flooding her eyes. “Don’t you dare use my words against me, Beckett Hollis,” she spits my name as if the very words on her tongue have burned her. “I may say a lot of shit, and a lot of things without thinking, but I always speak from my heart. I say what I mean, and I mean what I say, even if it sounds crazy. In the moment, I will always speak my truth. Right now, my truth is that I feel betrayed, like I’ve had yet another home pulled out from under me. You and Wild Sage. To think I was just starting to feel like Wild Sage could be it for me. That you could be it.”

Fuck. Her words land like an anvil on my chest, stealing my breath. I knew Lyla was still upset about Austin selling their family home, and I ripped the wound wide open again.

“Lyla–”

“I got the job, Beck,” she says, her voice softening as if she knows the words will already be enough of a blow. “They offered me a job back in the city, and I’m taking it. I’d be stupid not to, and you’d be stupid not to sell off at least some of the land and make a killing.”

“Lyla, please–” I stammer and anger bubbles up in my throat at my goddamn inability to fucking speak.