Hearts Like Ours | Red View Romance #1

🍎 Twenty One

Layla did come to dinner that evening, but she was quiet, and the smiles she gave at Kenzie and Marshall's wedding-talk seemed forced to Dawson. When Jack asked about her plans for going back home, Dawson wanted to tackle him off his chair. 

The topic of her leaving was the last thing he wanted to talk, hear, or think about, and yet he had to face it. If he didn't try something, it was going to happen, whether he liked it or not. The scary part was that even if he did try, she still might pack up and head back to the city anyways. 

Layla skirted around an answer, saying she'd miss the orchard, but that she'd probably be swamped with work to keep her occupied when she got back to the city. His sister just had to add, "And wedding plans," eliciting another feigned smile and mumble of agreement from Layla.

He knew he had to talk to her, even though he wasn't sure exactly what he'd say. But if she was really going to do this, go back home and marry that bastard, she deserved to make a decision with all the information in front of her--including how Dawson felt.

She knew in a sense thanks to his prior admission and the almost-kiss, but she didn't know the extent of his feelings. Chances were, even with what he said before, there was a part of her that still didn't take him seriously. And why should she, after so little time?

But feelings, Dawson was beginning to learn , didn't care about time at all. There was passion and envy in him like he'd never felt before, and that potent, sickening fear that it'd all amount to nothing. That she would leave, and the feelings wouldn't follow her. He'd have to live with them and her memory forever.

He helped bring the dishes into the kitchen, where Marshall had already volunteered for the clean-up job. But when Dawson went back to the dining room, Layla was already gone.

"Layla went to bed?" he asked his sister, whose eyebrows raised at the question.

"No, she went for a walk." She gestured at the open terrace doors. Outside, the backyard solar lights had come on, glowing amongst Jack's flowery landscaping. "Said she was cooped up all day and wanted some fresh air." Her voice was stern when she questioned, "Why?"

Dawson grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair and tugged it on. "Because I need to talk to her, is why."

She gave him a look that clearly said she didn't approve, but kept to her word and stayed out of it, saying nothing more.

He ducked outside before she could change her mind and spotted Layla a ways down the stone path, standing with her face tilted towards the night sky. It reminded him of how he'd first seen her, hair dancing in the breeze, eyes closed towards the sun. But this time, her eyes were open, gaze traversing the constellations above.

He approached, and she looked over at the sound of his footsteps. "It's pretty, isn't it?"

"Yeah," she answered, and as he got nearer he saw the glimmer of moonlight in the tears on her cheeks.

"Hey," his voice was softer than he knew it could be as he stepped forward, reaching out with a gentle hand to wipe them away. But she turned, shaking her head and raising her sleeve to do it herself.

"I thought I was alone. I'm just going to miss it, is all."

"I heard what happened," he admitted, letting her know the lie—or half-truth, he suspected—was pointless. "About your program."

She looked back at him with wide eyes, which were free of tears, now. "You—how?"

"Annie. But don't be mad at her—she's concerned about you and let it slip, that's all."

Layla frowned, but nodded. "She should be the one mad at me. I dumped everything on her and then snubbed her when she offered to talk. I even told her about Colin—in the most basic terms, anyway."