Hearts Like Ours | Red View Romance #1

🍏 Twenty Four

Dawson opened the door wider and stepped back to let her inside without a word. She wasn't sure if she shocked him into silence by showing up so late, or if he was so angry he wasn't speaking to her. But the invitation was a good sign, and she took it, stepping inside his room.

The space, with its brown walls—the same warm color as his eyes, she realized—was cozy, filled with oak furniture and a prominent lack of decor. Laidback and simple, just like him.

Briefly, she wondered if it was the same room he'd grown up in, changed over the years to age up with him and suit the man he'd become. The thought only added to the warmth, same as the dim light from the lamp on his bedside table.

She stopped studying the space, knowing she was stalling. There was so much to say. So much she'd been thinking about all day. Dinner had been a disaster--she had no appetite and wasn't up for much conversation. To top it off, she'd lied to Kenzie and Annie when they'd asked about why she seemed so distracted, blaming it on the end of the boot camp. In reality, that had barely been on her mind. Since her confrontation with Dawson, little else had been able to occupy her thoughts. 

"I shouldn't have let you walk away last night," she started, still facing the room rather than him. She made sure to keep her voice quiet—Kenzie had stayed at Annie's to help with unpacking, but Layla was fairly sure Jack was home.

When Dawson said nothing, she finally turned to look at him. But it was harder to find words when she did—he was so different like this, in a worn out t-shirt and flannel pajama pants. Rid of his usual rough-hewn day clothes, there's was something so gentle about him. Some inexplicable softness that had her wanting to walk over and wrap her arms around him, just to hold and be held for awhile.

The muted lamp light washed over both of them, painting him in golden tones and gentle shadows that only added to the desire. The yearning she felt when she watched him working in the kitchen swarmed her heart again, ten-fold, and with it came the need to have his mouth on hers again. 

He lifted a hand to rake through his hair, which was messier than usual. It was unmistakable bedhead no doubt acquired by tossing and turning, and it made her wonder if he, too, was still thinking about the argument. 

"Why not?" he prompted. He was keeping his distance, she noticed, standing by the door even though she'd walked to the middle of the room.

How was she supposed to answer; where was she supposed to start? There were so many reasons, so much she needed to figure out. So much she wanted to talk about with him, but was too scared to try.

"Layla..." He sighed, ran the hand down over his face. "It's late."

"I never thought about you the way I made it sound," she blurted. He wasn't going to get her out of there without hearing what she came to say--even if she was still trying to figure out exactly what that was, and just how to say it. "I know you're not like that, Dawson. You wanting anything to do with the company... I promise you, I never even thought of that as a possibility."

He dropped his gaze, leaning against the crowded bookshelf next to the door. "So then what made you push me away? The business? Colin?"

She let out a scoff, shaking her head. "Not Colin."

He looked at her again, brown eyes studying. "He doesn't mean anything to you?"

"No. You've known that since my first day here. And given that I don't mean anything to him, that he's been unfaithful practically since we got introduced, I don't feel guilty about it, either. He's not a factor in this, not at all."

"So it's just Foster Fitness, then."

"Yes. No." She waffled, earning raised eyebrows. "I don't know. I've been thinking a lot since last night, and—I don't know. Kenzie and Marshall agree with you, that I should open up a gym in Red View. If I did, then... then the company wouldn't be a factor, either."