All Layla Foster wants is to launch her own branch off of her parent's fitness company. But how is she supposed to focus on making her one shot a success when her client's brother makes her feel things she swore off a long time ago?
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Layla...
Layla stood frozen in the kitchen staring at the closed door, unable to do anything but let Dawson's words spin around in her mind. He'd been out of the room before she could even try to fix what she'd broken. Even if he'd given her the chance, she wasn't sure it would have mattered—the look on his face had been so cold, his voice so disgusted.
Whatever feelings he had for her were no doubt gone now. It was like the story he'd told her, how he'd walked in that room and fallen out of love. Only this time he hadn't been in love, and now there was no chance he ever would be. By trying to play things safe, Layla ruined everything they had.
Maybe leaving was the best thing she could do for him, and maybe that's what really mattered. She'd only been thinking of herself, thinking of what was best for her. To stay, to leave—every time she'd weighed the options in her mind it had been from a selfish perspective. Would she always think that way, trained into self-preservation and all the narcissistic side effects?
Maybe she'd been stupid to think things could ever be different. An animal raised in captivity could never be released to the wild, and Layla would never be made for the life she wanted to live. Not when she would always be so selfish.
She should pack up her things, get in her car, and start the long drive back to New York. But how could she possibly go back? She'd been content in her old life before she knew things could be different. She could have friends, her work could feel important. Someone could see her as more than just Foster Fitness.
Instead of any of that, she'd be going back to a loveless relationship and a business that would never belong to her. And in the back of her mind there would always be Dawson, the man who showed her she was worth more than just her use.
She wiped at her tear-coated face, and finally turned away from the door. If she left now, she wouldn't be able to bring herself to come back. She knew that much. Things would never be the same in New York, and after today they'd never be the same here. The only thing left to do was accept the damage she'd done, or try to fix it.
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Dawson was taking inventory of the mulch for the upcoming winter when Jack entered the supply barn, nodding in greeting. The weather had really started to cool down in the past few days, but the breeze that followed his brother inside did nothing to ease the burning inside of him.
He hadn't even had thirty damn minutes to calm down from what happened with Layla yet, and Jack was about the last person he expected to help with his mood. Inside he was still reeling, aching with the knowledge that when he got back to the house, she'd most likely be gone. And he'd all but told her to get lost, so who's fault was that?
It didn't matter what he said or didn't say. She was leaving anyways. He wasn't sure it would have made a difference if he got down on his knees and started begging. Still, it wasn't as if he tried, even for a second, to convince her to stay. No, he'd been hurt and angry and lashed out like usual.
