Layla – Present
The rain starts falling harder. The sky is a dark gray now, and the loud roars of thunder have already begun. I’m soaked in seconds. I pick up my pace. I’m still a few miles out from Dad’s house.
A couple of cars pass. Then a large black pickup stops a few feet ahead of me. The reverse lights blink on, and the passenger window rolls down.
Jacob.
I let out a long, frustrated sigh. For the first time in my life. I think I’d actually prefer Rhett.
He leans across the seat and unlocks the door, pushing it open slightly.
“Get in. I’ll take you home.”
“How often do you offer rides home to people in this town?”
He hesitates.
“I’ll walk.”
I slam the door shut.
He drives at a snail’s pace beside me, shouting over the sound of the rain.
“Layla, just get in the car!”
I stop walking, and he breaks.
“You’re not making me want to, Jacob.”
He groans and runs his hands over his face. “Please. Just get in.”
The wind howls around us, and a bolt of fork lightning splits the sky above. I don’t want to be in a car with him. But I also don’t want to spend another minute out in the rain and risk the very rare possibility of being struck by lightning. The way my life’s been going I’m not taking any chances.
I sigh, then open the door and climb in.
The leather seats are warm, which annoys me. If they were fabric, at least I’d soak them.
He turns up the heat, then reaches into the backseat, rummaging around until he pulls out a hoodie.
He holds it out to me.
“No thanks,” I say flatly. I don’t want to wear anything that’s his.
“You’re shaking. Take it.”
“I said no.”
He stares at me like I’m the most difficult person in the world.
“Why not?”
I don’t have an explanation other than it doesn’t feel right to wear something that isn’t Ben’s, so I tell him that.
“It doesn’t feel right.”
He scoffs. “I’m sure your husband won’t mind, considering the circumstances.”
Ben wouldn’t have minded. He would have insisted. That’s who he was. I avoid looking at Jacob, but when I glance over, he looks irritated by my silence.
“It’s a hoodie, Layla. Is he really that insecure?”
I reach for the door handle. “I changed my mind. I’d rather walk.”
I get out and start walking again. Jacob still hasn’t driven off. He’s not annoyingly hovering beside me in his truck either. I look over my shoulder and blow out a heavy breath when I see him walking up to meet me.
“What’s your problem, Layla?”
“My problem? What’s your problem? You’ve been nothing but rude since I got back.”
“Right,” he says. “Because I have no reason to be.”
“No, actually. You don’t.”
“I don’t?” He’s giving me that annoyed look again. He used to do that all the time when we first started speaking back in high school. I once thought it was cute, not anymore. Now it just makes my blood boil.
“You were my girlfriend, Layla. And you left without so much as a goodbye. You didn’t even try.”
“Didn’t try?” I take a step closer, yelling like I’ve finally lost my mind. “I wrote to you every week for six months. I kept writing, even after you sent every single one of them back unopened. All except the first, of course. That one you actually read before mailing it back.”
My voice cracks, but I keep going.
“Don’t stand there and accuse me of not trying. I did. And you damn well know it.”
I spin around, walk a few steps, then turn back and jab a finger into his chest.
“And left? Are you serious? I was seventeen, Jacob. I wasn’t given a choice!”
His eyebrows knit together like I’ve said something he didn’t expect. Like he’s only just now hearing the full truth.
It only adds heat to my veins.
I wouldn’t have left him. I would’ve stayed.
I didn’t care who his father was. I didn’t care what his mom, or my dad, or Rhett, or anyone in the entire world thought of us.
I loved him. I would have stayed forever, like we promised each other.
I wouldn’t have left him. I would have helped him pick up the pieces, and I would have made everything right again.
But I was only seventeen. And that meant some decisions I had no control over.
Silence stretches on for a long moment. Then he speaks, his face has softened, he looks more like the Jacob I once knew.
“Let me drive you home.”
We’re both drenched. I’m tired. Of the rain. Of walking. Of fighting.
I don’t say anything as I climb back into the truck.
He doesn’t offer me his hoodie again. He doesn’t speak. His hands stay tight on the wheel, but he looks like he’s a thousand miles away.
When we reach my dad’s house, he kills the engine and leans his head back against the seat.
“What’s he like?” Jacob gestures toward my wedding ring, and I instinctively touch it.
I release a heavy breath. “Ben.” I whisper it, more to myself than to him. “He was perfect. I think you would’ve liked him.”
The weight of it all crashes over me. My chest burns. The secret I’ve been holding unravels, and suddenly the tears are pouring, fast, heavy, and unrelenting.
Jacob leans in, his brow furrowed. “What’s wrong?”
I try to answer, but my voice won’t cooperate. All that escapes is a broke, hollow sound.
I can’t breathe.
“Layla?” He say’s my name with the same softness he used to, and somehow that only makes me cry harder.
The kind of crying that shatters you. The kind I haven’t done since the day Ben died, when I curled up beside him in the hospital bed and begged the world to stop turning.
I didn’t know how to make it stop then, and I don’t know how to make it stop now.
Jacob moves toward me, and the next thing I know, I’m in his arms. My head pressed against his chest. I should pull away. I should care that this is too much. But I haven’t been hugged, really hugged, since before Ben died. And I didn’t realize how badly I needed it until now.
So I let it go.
I cry until I can’t anymore. Until the windows are fogged up and the storm has passed. Until I’m too tired to feel anything else.
He hasn’t moved, except to run his fingers gently through my hair like he used to. Eventually, I pull back and lean against the seat, eyes closed. I breathe in, then turn to face him.
“Ben died last August.” My voice is quiet. “We were married for two months.”
I wipe under my eyes and sniff.
“I got kicked out of our apartment. I couldn’t make the rent on my own. That’s the real reason I came back. I would have stayed away like you wanted me to, but I had nowhere else to go Jacob.”
My voice catches again, and I force the words out.
“I dropped out of college. I don’t have a plan. I haven’t even told my dad, or Amie, or anyone who didn’t know Ben. No one knows the truth. I can’t bring myself to say it. I can’t. The pain hasn’t lessened. It’s not moving. I don’t know what to do.”
Tears return, quietly this time, and Jacob pulls me into him again.
“Layla. I… I’m sorry. If I had known–”
“I’m not your problem anymore, Jacob.” My voice sounds weak and broken. Exactly how I feel.
His arms tighten a little, his voice steady. “You were never a problem.”
I open my mouth to speak, but there’s a sharp knock on the window. I sit up quickly, wiping at my face.
Jacob rolls down the window.
Dad.
His eyes cut from Jacob to me, and I can see it, his shock giving way to that same rigid anger he’s always reserved for Jacob.
“Jacob,” he says, his voice like a blade.
“Mr. Hart.” Jacob’s jaw tightens.
Dad turns to me, his tone shifting slightly. “Lays, are you okay? Have you been crying?”
His eyes narrow at Jacob like it’s somehow his fault. I can’t stand it.
“I’m fine,” I say, my voice a little hoarse from all the crying.
“Then why don’t you come inside?”
I hate how he still thinks he can give me an order and I’ll obey.
“I’ll come in when I’m ready.”
He shakes his head, clearly irritated, not even pretending to hide it. All these years later, and he still looks at Jacob like he’s the worst mistake I ever made. But he never did anything wrong. He just loved me.
“I thought we’d order Chinese food. Rhett’s waiting inside.”
At that, I shift in my seat, suddenly feeling the old discomfort creeping back.
“We’ve already made dinner plans,” Jacob says, calm but firm.
Dad’s fingers tighten around the top of the window, his knuckles white.
“Layla?” he grits.
“I’ll see you when I get home, Dad.”
He doesn’t say anything else. Just steps back.
“She’s a married woman now, Jacob,” he mutters, eyes burning into Jacob before he finally turns and walks off.
Jacob rolls the window back up. I let out a breath and run my fingers through my hair.
“Are you hungry?” he asks.
“Starving.”
He pulls away from the curb, driving back toward town. At the traffic lights, we turn right onto a tree lined street. I remember these houses. Jacob used to work on them. They’re all gated, surrounded by manicured greenery that shields them from the road.
We pull into one of the driveways. Jacob punches in a code, and the iron gates swing open. The driveway is long, winding through landscaped grounds. When we reach the house, my eyes widen.
“Where are we?”
He smiles, shutting off the engine. “My house.”
“All of it?”
He laughs. “No, actually, I only own this spot right here, so don’t move.”
I nudge his arm. “You’re not funny.”
He laughs anyway.
I follow him to the front door. Even it looks expensive, sleek wood, matte black fixtures, wide glass panels.
Inside, I can’t help the small gasp that escapes me.
The house is stunning. Finished. Nothing like the empty shells he used to work on.
He kicks off his shoes by the door, and I do the same.
“You live here,” I say, half in awe.
“I told you I’d own a place like this someday.”
I remember. I remember it a little differently though. He told me we would own somewhere like this. Somewhere no one could reach us, somewhere that felt like home. I believed it back then. I believed he was my future.
“You did.”
He disappears for a moment and comes back with a towel and some clothes, holding them out to me.