33. Lyla
Lyla
Please tell me you’re both just as pathetic as I am and have no plans tonight. I want to go out.
SKYE
I’m in!
SUTTON
I’ll be working later, something came up at Tate’s.
SKYE
Good luck with that. Don’t do anything to piss him off. He might feed you to the pigs.
SUTTON
I’ll need a stiff drink after, I’m sure. I’ll meet up with you later?
Just don’t show up smelling like manure and we won’t pretend we don’t know you.
SUTTON
Will shower first
“So, what’s the deal with Tate?” I ask Skye, who is sitting across from me, sipping on a strawberry daiquiri I wasn’t even aware Lucky’s served.
“Oh, he’s fine, I’m sure,” Skye says. “No one around here knows much about him, so there’s all these rumours about his past. You know how you see those shows about cowboys who dump bodies at the edge of town when someone gets in their way?”
She makes a motion like she’s slicing her throat with her pointer finger, and I laugh for the first time all day.
I’m grateful for a night out with the girls, even if I am going to tell them I’m officially leaving Sage Valley tomorrow.
It took more makeup than I normally wear to cover the red splotches around my eyes from crying, and a few ice cubes to make the puffiness go down.
I’m just hoping the conversation, and the alcohol, will keep my mind off of Beck.
So far, focussing on Skye’s theories about the silver fox of a cowboy I met the other day is doing the trick, but barely.
“Yeah, I guess,” I answer.
“Well, that would be Tate. I don’t think he’s actually dumping bodies, but you know how the rumour mill starts spinning, and when you don’t know anything about a person, it’s easy to get carried away filling in blanks.”
“I don’t know, I’ve learned not to jump to conclusions about people, and not to take them at face value,” I say. There it is, the thought I haven’t been able to escape all day. It sends a dull ache through my midsection.
The argument I had with Beck in the driveway has been playing on a loop like a broken record in my mind. It’s not unusual for me to spend hours fixating on a conversation, replaying what I said and beating myself up for every poor choice of words.
He pushed me, he poked at me until I did the very thing I told myself I wasn’t going to do.
I blew up. I had the same kind of outburst toward Beck that I did with my old boss, except he had me removed by security.
It was humiliating, mortifying. If Beck had security guards at Wild Sage, I’d be willing to bet anything he’d have had me removed from his property too.
I take a long pull of my whiskey, feeling the amber liquid burn on the way down. I went for the hard stuff tonight, so I need to pace myself. I can tell Skye is thinking the same thing as she eyes me from across the table, one eyebrow arched.
She’s about to ask me something when Sutton arrives and throws her arm around me from behind.
“You made it!” Skye squeals, and stands to give Sutton a hug.
“Even had time to shower, you’re welcome,” Sutton removes her tan barn jacket that is still holding onto the earthy scent of hay, revealing a ruffled floral tank top tucked into jeans beneath it, and sits down across from me.
“So, I assume Tate didn’t take you out back and off you?” Skye laughs, and Sutton just shakes her head with a smile.
“No, none of that. He seems like a normal enough guy. Definitely the quiet and mysterious type, though.”
A waitress who looks to be in her fifties stops by the table. “What can I get ya, Hun?”
“Just a Corona please. It seems like someone here will need to be the responsible one tonight,” Sutton says, glancing around at our half-empty glasses, her gaze landing on my highball. “And maybe a pitcher of water for the table.”
“You got it,” the waitress says with a wink before wandering off to get the drinks.
“You’re not fucking around tonight, are you Ly?” She looks at me, her eyes assessing.
“Now that you’re both here, I have some news,” I say, the bottom of my stomach dropping. I fidget with my glass, turning it around and around on the table. “I’m leaving Sage Valley.”
“What?” Skye’s mouth drops open, and the shocked expression on her delicate features sends a fresh wave of nausea through me. Maybe I should stick to water for the rest of the night or I’ll end up with my head in the toilet bowl.
“Why?” Sutton asks.
“I got a job,” I reply. “A really good one in the city. Consulting. And honestly, with my track record in the industry I really can’t afford to be picky.”
Skye’s mouth twists to one side, her eyes squinting.
“Well that’s great,” Sutton says, but there’s a hint of disappointment behind her words.
“I’ll miss you both,” I offer, but the words feel like a bandaid on the gaping wound inside me.
“It’s not the job, is it?” Skye finally says, her big blue eyes boring through me. “You know we’ll always stay in touch, and you can visit us whenever. We’ll come out to the city, too. And the job is good news. So that’s not it.”
Skye pauses, almost as if she’s waiting for me to say it first, to come out with the truth of it all. But when I don’t, she says “It’s Beck.”
“Skye…” I start to come up with an excuse, but I’m a terrible liar.
One of the many downsides to wearing your heart on your sleeve at all times is that you’re never convincing when you need to be.
I don’t exactly want to talk about this with Skye.
Not only is she Beck’s sister, but I decided I would leave before anyone found out about us.
Best to just avoid any of the fallout with my brother now.
Sutton’s eyes dart between us as if she’s trying to catch up on whatever she missed.
“You don’t have to hide it, Lyla. I already wondered,” Skye says, her tone softening.
“Frankly, I’d be happy if you two ended up together.
The only thing that tipped me off was how much Beck has changed in the last few weeks.
His personality transplant just so happened to coincide with your arrival.
Then I saw him down at the barn, he was having it out with Austin. Put two and two together.”
So much for that plan.
I hold back from asking about the argument, because it doesn’t matter now anyway. I’m leaving, and whatever beef Beck and Austin have is their problem now.
“It’s over,” I say past the lump forming in my throat. I scrunch my nose and blink back the tears threatening to ruin my mascara. “Beck and I are done, and I accepted the job offer.”
I don’t tell Skye that Beck was going to do to her what Austin did to me. That her inheritance and her family's legacy hung in the balance. She doesn’t need to know about that, and if she does, Beck can tell her himself.
“Are you sure?” Sutton asks. “You seemed so happy about the idea of staying not that long ago.”
Something squeezes my chest like a vice grip. I was happy about staying. The thought of putting down roots in Sage Valley was everything I never thought I wanted. I don’t want to think about leaving again.
I glance away, averting my eyes from Sutton and Skye’s concerned faces, and my gaze catches on a blonde sitting at the bar top.
Tessa looks over at me, our eyes connecting across the dimly lit bar. She gives me a soft smile, and then raises her glass in a toasting motion. In this lighting, I can’t tell if the expression on her face is one of kind acknowledgement, or sympathy, as if to say ‘been there.’
Regardless, I force a half-hearted smile back at her, and then she turns around to the guy she’s standing with. Is that… Dylan?
His hand brushes her arm as he leans down and whispers something in her ear. Tessa’s smile spreads, big and wide. Relief floods my chest at the thought that maybe through all this, Tessa has been able to find her own happiness, even if I didn’t find mine.
I throw back the last of the whiskey in my glass and set it down on the table.
This was supposed to be my night out to forget about it all, to have one night of fun before reality comes crashing back tomorrow and I pack my bags to leave for the last time.
“Well, this was a blast,” I say, trying to keep my composure before it breaks. Because once it does, the flood gates will open, and I’ll be the sad girl, drunk and crying in the bar.
I’d rather be drunk and crying alone in my home, thank you very much.
“You can’t drive,” Sutton calls after me, and I whirl on my heel.
“I’ll walk!” I shout through the loud bar so she can hear me.
Worry washes over her face.
Sure, the walk back to Wild Sage isn’t exactly short, maybe forty-five minutes if I wasn’t wearing heels. But I could use the fresh air and the extra time to sober up before I get back.
Sober me wouldn’t go knocking on Beck’s door at midnight, but drunk me?
I can’t say what drunk me might do.