Layla – Present
I walk into Jacob’s kitchen, that’s soon going to be our kitchen.
Jacob’s taking our bags upstairs. I told him I’d make something for both of us to eat.
I rummage through the fridge, then start opening cupboards, trying to figure out where he keeps everything. It takes a bit of improvising, but I manage to find what I need to start making pancakes.
By the time Jacob makes it back downstairs, there’s a pancake in the pan, almost ready to flip. He wraps his arms around my waist and presses a kiss to my neck.
“Can you flip it in the air?” he asks.
I lean my head back against his shoulder and smile. “Of course I can.”
I lift the pan off the heat, gently rocking it to make sure the pancake isn’t sticking. Once it slides freely, I flick my wrist and flip it cleanly back into the pan.
I turn to face him.
“Can you?”
He grins. “No.”
Then he narrows his eyes playfully. “You’re going to make me try, aren’t you?”
I hand him the pan. “It’s not that hard.”
“That makes it worse if I mess it up,” he laughs.
He tries, and fails a few times, and finally manages a flip, but the pancake’s been on the heat too long. It lands in the pan, completely burnt. I’m laughing as he dumps it in the trash.
He sets the pan back on the stove. I reach over and flick off the burner.
He gives me a look. “Layla.”
I cross my arms. “I’m not hungry anymore.”
He turns the heat back on and smirks. “That’s good for you. I am.” He pours more batter into the pan.
I reach to turn the stove off again, but he grabs my hand, pulling me in closer.
“Stop,” he laughs. “If you keep doing that, I’m going to have to return you to Mabel.”
I shake my head. “That’s not an option. You’re stuck with me now, Jacob Evans.”
He leans down and kisses my cheek, then gently turns me so my back is to him again. He holds me there, his chin resting near my temple as he grabs the spatula and flips the pancake, the boring way.
He uses up all the batter and stacks the pancakes on the plate I set out earlier.
“You sure you’re not hungry?” he asks, holding up the plate.
I cave. “Maybe a little.”
We sit together on the couch, my legs draped across his lap. He flicks through the channels, landing briefly on the show Mabel and I watch every Saturday. He keeps going, but I stop him.
“I want to watch this.”
He pauses, a bite halfway to his mouth. “Why?”
“I need to know who he eliminated. If they got rid of Violet, Mabel’s going to be furious.”
He stares at me for a second, then shakes his head and laughs, turning back to the show.
The empty plate of pancakes sits on the coffee table in front of us. On screen, the contestants give their closing interviews. They do this every week when someone leaves.
Violet is crying. She’s been eliminated.
I can’t wait to hear Mabel’s thoughts on this tomorrow.
I yawn.
“You should go to bed,” Jacob says, squeezing my leg.
I’m about to argue, but another yawn takes over.
“Okay. But I want a shower first.”
I stand, heading for the hallway, then stop and glance back.
Jacob’s watching me.
“Which room is it?”
He gets up and leads the way, giving me a small tour of the upstairs, before bringing me into his room. My suitcase is on a chair beneath the windows, which look out over the backyard.
“It’s a beautiful house,” I say, taking it in. “It needs some color, and clutter, but apart from that, it’s beautiful.”
He crosses his arms, muscles flexing. “It doesn’t need clutter.”
I grin. “Too late. You let me in, and that means photos on every wall, every odd little souvenir we pick up gets a place of honor, and the fridge, well, it’s about to become a magnet museum. Starting with our New York one, obviously.”
He laughs. “Okay.”
“Okay as in ‘go for it?’ Or okay as in you’ve just reconsidered this whole moving in together idea?”
“Cover every inch of it in clutter if that’s what you want, Layla.”
I smirk.
“I’m going to regret saying that, aren’t I?” he mutters, walking into the en suite.
“Absolutely,” I say, following him.
He turns on the shower and points to the handle
“Left for hot, right for cold.”
I rest my hand on his arm, then tug gently at the hem of his T-shirt.
“Shower with me?”
He doesn’t need more of an invitation. His T-shirt hits the floor, and he helps me out of my clothes, the last of them falling away before we step beneath the stream of warm water.
He lifts me with ease, my back meeting the cool tile as his arms wrap around me. I grip his shoulders, the water rushing over us, steam curling thick and heavy between our bodies.
His forehead presses to mine. We’re both breathing hard, quiet anticipation building between us.
And just like I learned in New York, no matter how many times we do this, it still lights a fire through my veins and sends my heart racing, almost like I can’t quite believe we’re really here, doing this, feeling this, together.
Jacob’s lips brush mine, pulling me out of my head and back to his touch.
***
I wake to a rhythmic beeping sound. I haven’t opened my eyes yet, but the more awake I become, the louder, and more irritating, it gets.
I roll onto my side and feel Jacob’s arm tighten around me.
“Jacob,” I whisper, nudging him.
He mumbles something in response, but it’s incoherent.
“Jacob?”
He opens his eye’s, and he must hear the noise too, because he sits up instantly.
“Is it an alarm or something?” I ask through a yawn.
He doesn’t answer. Instead, he gets up, pulls on his boxers, and walks to the bedroom door.
I sit up, now fully awake.
When he opens the door, the smell of smoke hits me. He slams it shut and rushes back over to the bed.
“We need to go.”
He opens a drawer in the dresser and grabs some clothes, handing them to me. I throw them on quickly. He pulls a T-shirt over his head, zips up his jeans, then grabs my hand and leads me into the en suite.
He slides the window open. Just below is the roof over the kitchen.
He starts to climb out, then steadies himself on the roof.
Holding out his hand, he waits for me.
I don’t know if it’s the height or the realization of why we are climbing out a window in the middle of the night, but my whole body starts to shake.
He cups my face in his hands.
“The alarm’s linked to the fire station, they’ll be here soon. We just need to get off the roof. Okay?”
“Okay,” I nod.
I grip onto him like my life depends on it.
He leads us to the edge of the roof. There’s some garden furniture below, and he begins lowering himself down onto it.
When it’s my turn, I avoid looking down.
I feel Jacob’s hands steadying my back, and then we’re both on the ground.
I let out a breath of relief.
But that relief vanishes the moment I see Rhett and Alex standing by the pool.
“Layla?” Rhett stares at me. “What are you doing here?”
Jacob steps in front of me, almost blocking my view entirely.
Alex smirks. “Is this your house, Jacob?” he sneers. “What a shame.”
“She wasn’t supposed to be here.” Rhett shouts into Alex’s ear.
Alex slaps a hand on Rhett’s shoulder. “Relax.” His eyes meet mine and he smirks. “Why don’t you come over here, sweetheart?”
“She’s not going anywhere with you,” Jacob snaps, tension coiling in his voice.
Alex laughs. “You speak for her now do you?”
“Just leave, the police are on their way,” I breathe.
Rhett’s hands twitch. “We should go.” He rubs behind his ear. “Come on, Alex.”
Alex shoves Rhett back, then reaches his hand behind him, pulling out a gun.
My heart slams against my ribs. What the hell are they doing?
“See that’s the thing with you Jacob, you always take what’s not yours.” He waves the gun toward Jacob.
I move without thinking, but Jacob’s arm shoots out, stopping me.
“Stay behind me, Layla,” he orders, and the concern in his voice, makes my throat run dry.
“You need to calm down, Alex,” Jacob says, still somehow calm. “Layla’s right, the police are already on the way. You can still leave.”
Alex shakes his head, his whole body trembling. “No. No. No. No… I don’t like it when you talk, Evans.”
He fires a shot into the night sky then lowers it back on Jacob.
I can’t breathe.
“Alex,” I say, my voice shaking. “Stop. Please.”
He looks at me, eyes wild.
“He ruins everything. He ruined you.”
He screams, “I’m going to do it! If you don’t come here right now, Layla, I swear, I’m going to do it!”
My heart pounds wildly in my chest. I glance at Jacob. Then at Rhett.
Jacob keeps whispering “no,” like he’s trying to hold me in place with just his voice.
But Alex has the gun aimed at him.
And I believe him. I’ve seen that look in his eyes before.
I can’t risk losing Jacob. I can’t. I won’t go through that again.
I tear myself out of Jacob’s grip, and rush toward Alex. But he doesn’t lower the gun.
“Okay. I’m here. You can put the gun away now.”
He ignores me.
“You’ve made your point,” I say through gritted teeth.
Rhett grabs the gun from him.
Alex snatches my wrist and twists, hard. I hear a pop, and let out a strangled cry as pain sears up my arm.
“Layla!” Jacob shouts, rushing toward me.
Alex drags me back against his chest, locking me there. “Come on, Layla. Watch,” Alex hisses in my ear.
Rhett pulls the trigger.
Alex’s grip loosens.
Sirens begin to wail in the distance.
He shoves me forward and bolts into the trees.
Jacob collapses to the ground.
“Jacob!” I scream.
I stumble forward, my knees hit the grass.
Blood is pooling fast across his shirt.
I press my good hand against his shoulder, trying to stop it.
“Stay with me,” I beg. “Jacob, look at me. Stay with me.”
Rhett stands frozen, the gun still in his hand, his eyes locked on Jacob. His mouth opens, but no words come. He looks at the gun like he doesn’t remember firing it.
“I didn’t mean to,” he says, almost to himself. “I didn’t, I just…”
I can’t breathe.
I can’t breathe.
I can’t breathe.
“Help!” I scream into the night. “Please! Somebody! Help!”
I look up at Rhett.
“Rhett,” I sob, “please.”
He stares at Jacob, at the gun, at everything and nothing. His face pale, jaw locked.
He doesn’t answer me. I don’t even know if he heard me.
Then, without a word, he stumbles back.
And runs.