I anchored my arms around her. “Or maybe I’ll just hold you against me until you admit defeat,” I said, pressing her to me. The shiver that went through her, the way her eyes darkened told me this wasn’t an unwelcome idea, being trapped in my arms. But there was still a lingering flicker of doubt in her gaze.
“You’re afraid now I’ve had you I won’t want you, won’t care about you. You matter to me, Layla Mayberry. If you’d never come home with me, if you’d gotten in your car and driven away, you would still matter to me. If I never get to touch you again, that won’t change how I feel. When I said I could fall for you, I meant it.”
“Don’t,” she said, “you don’t want to fall for anyone. Trust me.”
“Just because other people hurt you, that doesn’t mean I will. Or that I’d leave.”
“I know that logically,” she said, but there was more to it. Things she wasn’t saying.
“So let me hold you now. We can figure the rest out later,” I said.
The relief on her face, the smile was everything. She nestled against me, warm and pliant, the tension gone out of her. I leaned my cheek against her hair, breathed her in and let sleep take me again, easily, calmly.
It was a long, dreamless sleep. I was aware of the weight of her, the warmth of her in my arms, the rhythm of her breathing that synced up with mine. Something about having her there, holding her allowed me to let go. I didn’t have the nightmares. When I woke, the afternoon sun slanting through my cheap plastic blinds, I felt so different. My head was clear. My heart wasn’t pounding. I didn’t need to throw myself in the floor and start doing push ups to beat down the panic. I had slept for hours. I stretched and turned to kiss her.
She was gone.
Layla had left while I was sleeping.
I saw the note she’d left on my pillow. I’m sorry I got carried away. I can’t do this. It’s best if we don’t see each other again. You deserve better than this. Forgive me if you can. Layla
I crumpled the paper and threw it across the room. It bounced against the wall and fell to the floor. Fucking ‘I can’t do this’. She was scared so she ran off. Thinking I’d chase her or hoping I wouldn’t. Either way, it was bullshit. I’d opened up to her. I let myself want something again, want her. I gave her everything in me, but she wouldn’t let me in. I was so angry that I wanted to tear down the walls of my cabin, shred the sheets with my bare hands, set it all on fire. Forget this fucking day and that I’d ever dared to hope. Something had finally felt good and real again. So of course it had to turn to shit immediately.
I ripped the sheets off the bed and threw them into the corner. I bent down and gripped the bed frame, flipping it over. It banged against the dresser and landed on its side, mattress drooping off like a loose tooth. Then I hit the floor and started counting pushups again.
16
Layla
I put on my best overalls, the white linen ones I’d just gotten from eBay, and a silky sleeveless top under them. I wore hoop earrings and lots of eyeliner. I wasn’t about to look like I was crushed when I walked into Cecil’s for margarita night. Gracie had a sick kid so she wouldn’t be there, but Maggie and Sarah Jo were still joining me. I was the last single girl in our group, the last one standing as I liked to say.
I got there first, ordered, and started on my bottle of water before margaritas started flowing from the extra-large pitchers we always ordered. I liked to stay hydrated so I didn’t get sick as hell and hungover. So I sipped my bottle of water and when Maggie came in, I hugged her.
“You look like shit. Was the run that bad?”
I shrugged, “How’s life at the vineyard?” I asked.
“Nice try. Spill.”
“I’ll wait till Sarah Jo gets here,” I said, trying to act like it was all fine, just a harrowing anecdote from work or something.
When Sarah Jo came in, we started pouring margaritas.
“Something happened with Layla,” Maggie said, “and I’ve been waiting to hear until you came in.”
“Okay, what happened?” Sarah Jo asked. “Damn, that margarita is so good I felt it hit my soul.”
“I’m just pissed at myself for sleeping with Tyler,” I admitted.
“Was it amazing? If he’s half as good as Jeremiah, you will never forgive yourself for missing out on the sex you could’ve been having when you wasted time beating yourself up over it,” Maggie said.
“He’s a former patient. He has trauma to get through and engaging in any kind of personal relationship with—"” I started.
“Don’t treat him like he’s fragile,” Sarah Jo cut in. “You can let yourself be happy without hating yourself for it. I don’t think you’ve permanently damaged his psyche by sleeping with the guy. Unless you did some really freaky shit. Did you?” she asked, a wicked gleam in her eye.
“No,” I told her. “It was just really, really, really good. I never imagined that there was anything that could feel like that. He wore me out and then we did it again. He’s so huge and strong, but he was so tender with me…” I stopped, blushing. “I never should have done it.”
“Sounds like you had a pretty good time to me,” Sarah Jo said.
“That doesn’t make it right,” I replied grimly.
“How did you leave things with him?” Maggie asked. “I’m surprised you’re here with us now and not with him if it was that good.”
“He was so sweet afterwards and so reassuring. He wanted me to know it wasn’t a one-night thing. But I left while he was asleep,” I confessed, and dropped my head into my hands at their horrified looks. “I know, I know, it’s horrible! I just couldn’t stay and face him.”
“Not to point out the obvious hypocrisy here,” Maggie said. “But you’re our local sex cheerleader, and you can’t even have sex with an actual man. You freaked out. It’s like you refuse to let him be close to you.”
I started to answer, but the tears came flooding down my face and I sobbed really loudly. I clapped my hands over my mouth, tried so hard to gulp the tears down but I keened, made more sounds I couldn’t control. Horrified, I let Maggie take me to the ladies room.
“It’s okay. Come on in here,” she said, guiding me by the elbow.
Once we got in the ladies room and I started mopping my face with paper towel and sobbing loud and long, she patted my shoulder once and then turned to me.
“Okay, that was unexpected. Now tell me what the hell it’s about.”
It took me a while to calm down. I splashed my face, dried it off, took a ragged breath and then started crying again. Maggie hugged me and got me a box of tissues off the counter so I could blow my nose. I made high, hiccupping sounds and embarrassed myself. At last, after three more attempts to wash up and calm down, I managed it. We sat on the counter, back against the mirror.
“Is he the man you want?” she nodded. I nodded.
“But I can’t have him. This is how it happens,” I said, sniffing but fighting it down.
“How what happens?” she asked.