Chapter 29
Happy Birthday
Cole
“Happy birthday big bro,” Maggie says to me while I’m walking into the kitchen for breakfast.
The room smells like fresh coffee, bacon grease, and warm biscuits, Nancy’s usual spread, the kind that usually makes my stomach growl. Today it just sits heavy.
“Thanks,” I mutter, grabbing a plate, voice rough from sleep and the knot in my throat.
“Happy birthday Cole,” Nancy says, sliding a mug of black coffee my way, strong, steaming, just how I like it.
“Happy birthday kid,” Dad says from the head of the table, newspaper folded beside his plate.
“Thank you,” I say, trying to act like it’s not a big deal. I sit, bite into my toast, crisp, butter melting fast and I chew slowly, staring at the wood grain like it holds answers.
“What’s on the itinerary for today?” I ask, voice flat.
“The party duh!” Maggie says, grinning wide.
“Oh yeah.” I roll my eyes, forcing a half-smile that doesn’t reach my eyes.
“Well ya know Layla said she’s leaving in a few weeks so it’s also kind of like a goodbye party too in a way.”
I push my plate forward, appetite gone, toast turning to ash in my mouth. “So what do I need to do?”
“Nothing! I’m handling everything tonight!” Maggie says, proud.
“Me and Luke,” she adds.
Oh this should be good. Her and Luke handling a party is like giving the responsibility to two toddlers.
This is Layla’s last hoorah here. I want it to make an impression.
I want it to make her want to stay or at least think about us when she’s gone.
The thought twists sharp in my gut, anger rising hot and fast. But then again, maybe it’s best if she just goes back to Seattle.
Where she belongs. Where she won’t have to deal with my bullshit, my silence, my fear.
Where she can forget the grumpy cowboy who can’t even say the words.
“How are you guys?” Maggie asks, voice softer now, eyes flicking between me and the empty chair where Layla usually sits. “You’ve been getting along better. Are y’all going to try and make it work?”
She asks me in front of Dad and Nancy. They’re both being nosy as hell, Dad’s fork paused, Nancy’s eyes sharp over her coffee mug.
“She’s a good friend,” I say bluntly, staring at my plate. “But I think it’s best that she goes home. Sooner the better for me. So I can just move on with my life, ya know?”
“You don’t mean that,” Maggie huffs, sharp, disbelieving.
I just stare at her. Of course I don’t mean that.
I want Layla to stay here forever. I want her in my bed every night, her laugh in my kitchen every morning, her curves under my hands, her voice filling the quiet spaces I’ve lived in too long.
But she has plans. A life. A career. And I’m not gonna beg.
I’m not gonna be the guy who chains her to a ranch she never asked for.
“Hey guys!” Layla says from the doorway, voice bright, stepping into the kitchen with a big box in her arms. The scent of her hits me first, vanilla and something floral, cutting through the breakfast smells like a punch to the chest.
“I uhh found some decor over in the guest house I thought would be great for the party. Plates and stuff.” She sets the box on the counter, paper rustling, glass clinking softly inside.
“Oh perfect,” Maggie says, grabbing the box from her.
“Want some breakfast hun?” Nancy asks.
“Happy birthday,” Dad says.
“Thank you!” She says, smiling big, cheeks pink from the morning air.
“Happy birthday,” Maggie and Nancy repeat.
“Y’all are sweet,” she says, warm and genuine.
“Happy birthday, Cole.”
She stands next to me as I’m eating my breakfast. I’m trying to keep it together.
At least for my sake. My chest hurts, I don’t want her to go but I’m not going to beg her to stay and I don’t have to be nice about it either.
I look up at her. And god she’s beautiful, hair loose, eyes bright, that sundress hugging every curve, the soft swell of her breasts, the dip of her waist, hips that make my hands itch to grab.
She smells like vanilla and sunshine and home.
“You too,” I mumble, voice low, gruff, barely audible.
“Oookay. Well I’ll see you guys later for the party!” She says as she walks out. I can smell her perfume as she passes, sweet, lingering, clinging to the air long after she’s gone.
“What the fuck,” Maggie smacks me, hard, right on the arm.
“You’re an ass,” Nancy says, quiet, disappointed.
My dad just shakes his head. “You’re going to lose her boy,” he says sharply.
“I already have,” I mumble and quickly get up from the table, chair scraping loudly, plate abandoned.
I already have.