Layla – Present
My toes sink deep into the warm sand as the tide rolls in. I’ve been here for the better part of an hour, already walking all the way to the pier by Harry’s restaurant and back again.
There’s always been something peaceful about the ocean.
Maybe it’s the perspective of looking out at something much bigger than me, or the quiet reassurance that the world is far larger than the beach I’m sinking my toes into.
I raise a hand to shield my eyes from the sun and stare toward the place where sky meets sea.
Off in the distance, the Rockport ferry disappears from view.
“Layla!”
I turn, thinking I heard someone call my name, but the sun’s glare is too strong for me to make anyone out. I keep walking, letting the water lap at my ankles. The second time I hear it, it’s clearer, and it’s a voice I recognize. I grin and turn on my heel.
“Amie?”
Her palm is pressed against her heaving chest as she puffs. Her dark brown hair is pulled back into a low ponytail, and she wipes at her forehead before tucking a stray stand behind her ear.
“I ran from over there,” she says, gesturing toward the pier. “When did you get back?”
“Last Friday.”
It feels strange she doesn’t already know.
And I know that’s my fault. I could have reached out, even without my phone.
I knew her address. But after all the failed letters to Jacob, the ones he returned, I shut myself out.
I didn’t want reminders of my old life in Rockport.
A clear slate, Lisa called it. But standing here, seeing Amie in front of me, I realize how much I missed her.
“You look good, Layla.” She smiles, warm and genuine.
There’s none of the resentment Jacob carried, not even a trace of it in her voice.
“Heather’s been telling half the town you got married…
I told her to mind her own business, but you know what she’s like.
” She gives me a look, the same one she always used when she was about to pry a secret from me.
“I did.”
I want to tell her the truth. I’ve never lied to Amie, at least not about anything important.
Still, every time someone brings Ben up, I freeze.
It’s as if there’s a wall between me and the rest of the world, and it’s the only thing holding me together.
I’m not ready to start pulling bricks from it just yet.
I want to pretend a little longer, to talk about Ben like he’s still alive.
I want to be the newlywed who gushes about her husband, who gets carried away with the kind of happiness that makes people roll their eyes.
I want what I can’t have. What I never will.
“Layla, that’s amazing news. Congratulations!” She starts bouncing on the spot, grinning from ear to ear, and for a second, I smile too. I let myself get caught up in the happiness she’s feeling for me.
“You have to tell me everything. His name, his age, his favorite food, his–”
I laugh and place my hand on her shoulder. “I will.” Just not yet. Telling her everything means I’d have to tell her everything.
I point to the diamond on her own finger. “What about you?”
“Parker finally asked me last summer,” she says, stretching out her fingers so I can see.
The ring is a large solitaire set in a gold band. It suits Amie perfectly, elegant, timeless, and full of warmth.
“It’s beautiful,” I tell her, and she beams.
“Have you set a date?” We begin to walk along the edge of the water.
“May 2nd. Next year.”
“May will be perfect, Ames.”
She presses her lips together in a tight line, hesitating. “What was your wedding like?” She pauses, then quickly adds, “Never mind that. What’s your groom like? What’s his name? I want to know that first.”
I nudge her with my shoulder. “His name is Ben. And he’s perfect.”
He was perfect.
Her eyes fill with tears.
“What’s wrong?”
“This isn’t how it was supposed to be. We’re supposed to know these things about each other.
We’ve been friends since the first grade, Layla.
I know how old you were when you lost your first tooth.
I was there when you broke your wrist the summer we both turned fourteen, and we thought the cast was the coolest thing ever.
I was there when you had your first kiss.
When you fell in love for the first time.
I knew everything. And now I know nothing.
” She swallows, blinking quickly. “I’m supposed to know when my best friend gets married.
I’m supposed to know your husband. We’re supposed to be in each other’s lives.
And it really sucks that your dad sent you away and took that from us. ”
“I know. I’m sorry, Amie. I should have reached out to you, I should have written, I shou—”
“I should have tried harder too, Layla,” she cuts in.
“But everything was crazy after you left. Your dad was threatening my parents if I tried to contact you. Alex was being a total ass to everyone, and Parker and I broke up over it all.” She tucks a strand of hair blowing across her face, behind her ear.
“I don’t know every detail of what happened that night, but I know enough to understand you must’ve been going through hell.
And that killed me, Layla. I wanted to talk to you.
I wanted to hear it from you, not your dad, or Alex, or Rhett. ”
“I wrote to Jacob,” I say quietly. “But after the first letter, he sent them all back unopened. He made his feelings pretty clear. And I don’t know, something in me just broke.
I spent my days homeschooling my senior year with Aunt Fern and a tutor, and going to therapy.
Then I started college and kept to myself until I met Ben.
I don’t think I really looked up until that moment.
You deserved more than silence from me, and I’m sorry for that. ”
“We were only teenagers, Layla. Stop being so hard on yourself.” She squeezes my hand.
“I’ve missed you, Amie.”
“I’ve missed you too.” She sighs, “So, are you staying long, or is that perfect husband of yours already getting restless?”
“I’m not sure yet.”
She tilts her head, narrowing her eyes. “Is there something else going on?”
I press my lips into a thin line and shake my head.
She doesn’t look convinced, but she lets it go, for now.
“What’s Louisiana like?”
“It’s okay.”
It wasn’t. Not really. The only thing I loved about it was Ben.
“Are you thinking of moving back here with Ben?”
That hurts more than I expect it to.
I force a smile. “I’m just visiting for now.”
She nods. “I’m glad you are. Visiting, I mean.” Her smile falters. “I never thought you’d want to come back here after everything.” She looks down at her feet. “Parker stopped hanging around with Alex and Rhett after he found out what really happened that night.”
I kick at the water gently, sending up a small splash “Good.”
She studies me, parting her lips before clamping them shut.
“Just say it,” I sigh.
“Heather said you ran into Jacob at the gas station.” She lets the words out in one breath.
I bite the inside of my cheek. “Yeah.”
“And?” Her tone shifts. “I mean, I know you’re a married woman and all, but damn… he’s even better looking than when you dated him.” She laughs.
“Let’s just say he didn’t give me as warm of a reunion as you have.”
She scrunches up her nose. “The marriage thing didn’t go down too well?”
“More like dad putting me on a plane and leaving him with the mess my family created, and me ignoring the fact he clearly wanted me to never come back, didn’t go down too well.”
“Oh.” She glances behind her, then looks back at me. “You know, he hasn’t dated anyone since. At least, not that I’ve seen.”
“I don’t want to know about that, Amie. What Jacob does with his life is none of my business anymore.”
She looks a little sad when I say it.
“But you two were so…” Her voice trails off. “That’s not what Heather said, by the way. She didn’t seem to think he was hostile toward you at all.”
“He was rude to me outside of the store,” I say. “Why? What did Heather say?”
She grins. “That he couldn’t take his eyes off you.”
“I think he was in shock.” I pause. “It wore off. Trust me.”
“Did you tell Ben about him?”
I told Ben everything.
I nod.
“I want to meet Ben.”
I wanted you to meet him too.
She pulls her phone out and checks the screen. “I have to go, but promise me you won’t leave without saying goodbye, okay?” She adjusts her pony tail.
“I promise.”
***
I turn the key in the ignition for the fourth time, praying it works. There’s an awful grumbling sound, before the engine splutters, and then, silence. The amber engine light is flashing angrily back at me on the dash, like it’s mocking me.
I rest my head against the steering wheel.
Please work.
I try for a fifth time. This time it sounds even worse.
I sigh and pull the key out.
Giving up on any hope of a miracle, I climb out of the car and head toward the hardware store. The mechanics usually work out back. Hopefully someone there can save it. I’ve only been back a week, and if I kill Dad’s car, I’ll never hear the end of it.
I ring the silver bell at the counter and wait.
A throat clears behind me.
I turn. Jacob is standing with some building supplies in his hands.
“Layla,” he says with a small nod.
I don’t reply. I’m not in the mood for whatever this version of him is today, grumpy, cold, rude, all the above. I ring the bell again. Then twice more, for good measure.
“If you keep ringing that thing, no one is going to come,” Jacob says.
“Why have a bell if you’re not going to answer it?”
“Why are you in such a rush?”
“None of your business.”
He laughs, and it annoys me more than when he was talking.
I ring the bell again.
“I have to get back to work, Layla. Stop annoying Owen.”
He shouts into the back for Owen.
“Which one of you was ringing this thing like it’s a damn wind chime?” A gruff voice calls out.
Jacob points to me.
“I’ll serve you first then, Jacob,” Owen says as he walks behind the counter.
“That’s not how lines work.”
“It’s my store. Local’s first.” Owen shoots me a pointed look.
“I am a local,” I say.
We went to school together. He sat behind me in math class for three years.
Owen looks me up and down.
“Not anymore.”
I run my fingers through my hair, frustrated. Jacob sets his things on the counter, not even trying to hide his smirk.
“Are you kidding me?”
Jacob looks between us and says to Owen, “Are we joking?”
“I don’t see anyone laughing.” Owen shrugs and starts scanning Jacob’s things.
“Unbelievable,” I mutter under my breath.
Once Jacob’s items are bagged, he turns to me with a smug smile.
“Have a nice day, Layla.”
He leaves the store without looking back.
I turn to Owen. “Now will you help me?”
“That depends. What do you need?”
“My dad’s car broke down. I need a mechanic.”
“What’s your dad’s name?”
“You know who my dad is.”
He just stares at me blankly.
I exhale through my nose. “Mitch Hart.”
He grunts and pulls out an old, tattered notebook from under the counter. I glance at the last entry, over eight years ago.
“The mechanic’s busy today.”
“I just need him to take a look at it, that’s all.”
“Where’s it parked?”
“By the pier. In the lot.”
“I can ask him, maybe get a tow truck out there in the next few days.”
“Days?”
“That’s how long it takes,” he says with a shrug.
“Fine.” I toss the keys onto the counter. “It’s the silver Volvo.”
“You want me to arrange the tow?”
I blink at him. “Yes.”
“I need to log it, then.”
He pulls out a pen and starts writing. And writing.
He asks me every detail imaginable, my name, birth date, home address, my dad’s details, the payment method. I half expect him to ask for my blood type.
By the time he closes the book, there’s a line of people behind me. Owen finally looks up and says, “We’ll be in touch.”
I nod and step outside. Sending Dad a quick message explaining what happened. The sky’s gone gray and rain has started to drizzle.
I let out a long breath and start the walk home.