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She studies me for a moment as if waiting for me to say more. When I don’t, she goes on.
“It’s this Friday night,” she says. “I met him at a bookstore in Savannah. We talked for a while, and he asked for my number.”
I nod as she explains how she’s only been talking to him for a week, and he asked her on a date only yesterday. Which means she’d planned to end things with me before she’d texted me to come over this morning. That stings more than it should. But I know I don’t have any right to be upset. It’s not like we’re a real couple. She’s never lied to me or pretended we were more than we were. It’s not Layna’s fault I got too attached. That’s all on me. Though I am a little annoyed that I didn’t know before we fucked today. If I’d known it was the last time, I would have given her more than two orgasms.
“Okay,” I say again when we’re both fully dressed. I give her a smile that I hope is unbothered. “I hope your date goes well.” The words taste like ash on my tongue, but I hope they’re convincing enough.
She gives me a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Thank you, Cole,” she says. “For understanding.”
I shrug. “It’s what we agreed to, right? No hard feelings.”
She nods. “Right.”
“If you change your mind, you know where to find me,” I say with a playful wink.
She smiles, but it’s far from the laugh I expected. Then she leans forward and kisses me on the cheek, her lips barely a whisper against my skin.
“Bye, Cole.”
Chapter 4
Presentday
Layna
I watch as Cole turns to leave, clenching my jaw shut against the urge to call his name, to ask him to stay. To come back to bed and forget about the last 10 minutes. If I asked him to stay, I know he would. It would be so easy. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve tried to end things and changed my mind. But I don’t do it. I know better. It wouldn’t be fair to either of us. Not this time.
I meant what I told him. It’s time to move on from this thing that started the night we first met. We’re too old for friends with benefits. Well, I am, anyway. Cole’s still young enough to find it fun and exciting. And it was fun and exciting. I enjoyed my time with him more than I ever thought I would. But I’m ready for something more serious and I can’t find it if I’m still having a fling with a man nearly a decade younger than me.
When the door closes softly behind him, I blow out a breath and swallow hard against the lump in my throat. The tension eases between my shoulder blades even as I feel a painful squeeze in my chest that I do my best to ignore. It’s better this way. I know it is. Cole and I had our fun, but that’s all it was. A good time. Nothing serious. We’d always planned to end this eventually. Now’s as good a time as any.
We both knew from the beginning that this thing between us was temporary. It’s why I’ve never broken my rule about sleeping with him. We hang out occasionally. We fuck a lot. But we don’t do sleepovers. I didn’t want to blur the lines between us. I knew, even when we first started this thing, that I could easily get used to having Cole Prescott in my bed. And not just for his skills when it comes to sex. He’s funny and charming and sweet. He turned out to be an amazing friend. Which is why I’d known I needed to have boundaries. To his credit, he never pushed back at me for my rule about sleeping together. Now that it’s officially over, I’m glad I never broke that rule. Even if part of me wonders what it would be like to wake up next to him. I immediately veer away from that dangerous line of thinking and focus on getting ready for work. It won’t do any good to dwell on what might have been. It’s best to focus on reality. And the reality is I need to hurry or I’ll be late for work.
Since I quit my job in Atlanta and moved to Peach Tree, I’ve been working as a public defender in Savannah. It pays a lot less than my old job, but I finally feel like I’m doing something good with my law degree. I’m not just making rich people richer. Instead, I’m helping defend people who can’t afford an attorney. I’m not blind. I know that many of my clients are guilty but that’s not for me to decide. It’s my job to provide the best legal defense possible. It’s stressful and mentally exhausting. It’s also thankless most days. But the truth is, I love it.
I think it might be my dream job. Sometimes I’m shocked that I once worked as a corporate lawyer. Looking back, I’m not sure why I ever thought that was the epitome of success. I’d made an insane amount of money, but I’d been miserable for a long time before I finally mustered up the courage to quit that job and leave the city. Looking back, I’m so happy I made that decision when I did. I can’t imagine my life if I were still there. These days, I’m happy with my life and my choices, even if I’m a little lonely at times.
I catch sight of the massive peach-shaped water tower as I walk past the front window of my little apartment and shake my head. Part of me still can’t believe I live in Peach Tree, Georgia. It’s even more surprising that I’m genuinely happy here. I think seeing my little sister happy and settled in this tiny town is what spurred me to finally acknowledge how unhappy I was with my big city life. But there’s no denying that I’m happy here. I love my job and my cozy apartment above Harlow’s salon. I’m even growing to love this little town, though that fact continues to surprise me.
I rush downstairs and make my way out the side door to my car. I hadn’t exactly been lying to Piper earlier. If I don’t hurry, I’m going to be late to meet my new client. I hate being late and I absolutely refuse to be late to a first meeting with a new client. It’s not only unprofessional, but it sends the message to the client that they’re not my priority. A lot of my clients have already been failed enough. By authority figures, lawyers, their family, or the system itself. I never want to be one of the people who fails them.
I spent last night reading over the file for my new client. He’s 19 years old with an arrest history already. This time he’s being accused of petty theft, which wouldn’t be a big deal on its own. But since he has a history of trouble with the law, the judge isn’t likely to look favorably on him. I’m hoping I can keep him out of jail.
I manage to make it to work on time. I even have a few minutes to look over my notes about the case before my new client arrives. He’s a skinny kid with a mop of dark hair and an obvious chip on his shoulder. But I can see in his eyes that he’s scared and trying to hide it. When he takes a seat in the chair across from my desk, he slumps in it, averting his gaze. He looks like he’s annoyed to be here. Like I’m wasting his precious time. Part of me wants to laugh at his antics, but I don’t. I’ve seen his type before. They’ve learned that authority figures can’t be trusted, and they count me as one of them.
“Good morning, Will,” I say giving him a smile. “Thanks for meeting with me.”
He rolls his eyes. “Like I had a choice.”
Yep. Definite chip on his shoulder.
“I looked over your case file and I think we can make it so you don’t do any jail time,” I say. “We can cut a deal for probation if we plead guilty—”
“What’s this ‘we’ shit?” he cuts in. “I don’t know you.”
I bite back a sigh, keeping my expression pleasant. “I get it. You don’t know me, and I don’t know you. You don’t want to trust me. I get that, too. But you don’t have a lot of options here, Will. The evidence against you is strong. A plea is your best option.”
“I didn’t do shit,” Will says, his voice rising with anger. “I’m not sayin’ I did.”
