Page 37 of I Still Love You

What the fuck kind of man am I?

When my swallow turns scratchy, I imagine swallowing a shard of glass because that would be better than allowing my own walls to fall, than allowing her the chance to bear witness to my vulnerability after I’ve worked so hard to hide it. “I’m so sorry,” I whisper apologetically.

She turns as if she’s going to look over her shoulder but stops short after tucking her hair behind her ear. I allow myself one moment to let my guard down and say what should have come from my mouth years ago. “I’m so fucking sorry that you got the short end of the stick,” I offer quietly, an invisible hand coiling around my damn throat. I close the gap and place my hands on her hips. I don’t dare tug her back into my chest because I’m aware of my limits, and this is already too much.

My face still moves forward, however. I trace the shell of her exposed ear with the tip of my nose, running it down along the curve so featherlight I can convince myself later that this never actually happened. I tip my head slightly to the side and rest it against hers. “It makes me sick knowing you lost someone who meant so much to you. You didn’t deserve it. Your mom and sisters didn’t deserve it. It’s fucked up, and time can’t cover that hurt. No matter how shitty you feel when you think of him not being around, remember that time also can’t cover up the memories you made with him.”

I breathe in deeply, knowing I’ve said all I’ve come this far to say. Her citrus aroma assaults me like an assailant with a mission to take me down. Without a doubt, if I hand over my power, it will.

It’ll fucking drown and devour me the same way I allowed it to years ago. I can’t allow that to happen. Not when there’s a debt to settle. Not after experiencing the grief and sorrow she put on me.

I might be willing to be her fake boyfriend for two odd months, but I’m not willing to lose myself in her name again. When we leave this house, the new Luke will rear his ugly head, and this apologetic, feeble person who is currently taking up my body will fade to the past where Luke and Layla live but don’t survive.

I can’t allow myself the privilege of hitting rewind. I wouldn’t survive it if I did. I barely came out on the other side of Layla once. I can’t do it again.

16

Layla

“What do you think is going on?” Sierra questions, her head turning from side to side to pinpoint the reason administration asked the lower-level departments to gather in a research room on the first floor. There’s an abundance of us, so we squeeze into the space like sardines in a can. Some use the blacktop study desks as seats. Sierra and I, however, squish ourselves near the back.

“I have no clue,” I loudly say so she can make out my words over the chatter. “But it must be important if we’re all here.”

Sierra’s eyes widen, and she looks over. “Do you think there’s some kind of scandal going on? Maybe there’s a gonorrhea outbreak. That happened on a medical show once, I think. I just can’t remember the name of it.”

“Ew,” is all I say as my eyes travel across the room. Andrew waltzes in through the door and stands by the others who work in his department. When he catches my stare and winks, I want to gag up the banana I scarfed down on the way here. Thankfully, we haven’t had any more run-ins. My attention shifts to the front of the room where the director of the hospital board, Garrett Bond, stands with a stack of papers.

He scratches the back of his head, where greying blonde strands cover his scalp. His voice, though deep, isn’t enough to silence the crowd, so someone from the front lines shouts to shut up.

Garrett taps the stack of papers on the desk closest to him. “I’m sure you’re all wondering why you’re here. I appreciate you taking time after your shift for this.” He approaches the people in the front, hands the stack of paper over, and asks that they be passed around. “Regional will be hosting a free annual clinic. Your department heads have selected who will donate their time for it.” During Garrett’s spiel, one of the two doors leading into the room opens, and in walks Luke and the busty redhead who works his front desk. The lady who walked me back to his office with knowing eyes. I swear she smirked at me before closing the door that day, and I can’t help but wonder if she’s one of the people who questioned Luke about our relationship. “You’ll find your names on the packet of papers, as well as what’s expected of each department during the clinic.”

My attention hyper-focuses on my ex as he makes his way through the crowd. He could have just stayed by the door, chosen not to draw attention to himself or me, but he slides into a free space directly behind me, making it extremely difficult to pay attention to what Garrett says. When the stack of papers gets to Sierra, she takes one before passing it to me with a wink. I keep two to myself and pass it along before lifting the extra over my shoulder, offering it to Luke.

His breath tickles the skin behind my ear, causing the hairs on the back of my neck to rise. “What did I miss?”

This is the first time we’ve interacted since dinner at my mom’s. Since I allowed him in my inner circle and trusted he wouldn’t belittle me in front of the most important people in my life. I’m still wrapping my head around the fact that he didn’t let me down. I turn slightly, catching his eyes before whispering back, “Not much. Details are on the paper.”

I do my best to concentrate on the way Garret’s voice deepens as he fills us in on other details rather than the man behind me. My body traitorously wants to cling to his heat, to his presence, to his scent. A part of me hates that. Hates that the more I’m around him, the more and more enticing I find him. “As you can see, the sports therapy office is a part of this clinic and will be required to help as well.”

“They’re not even a part of the hospital,” says someone from the sidelines. “Doesn’t that seem a little unfair?”

Unfair?

I almost scoff at their idiotic comment, but Garrett handles it with ease. “This is about helping the community. It’s our job to offer our resources and ensure our neighbors understand they’re available to them. The more hands we have on deck, the better,” he explains, casting his lowered gaze around the room in the event anyone else would like to question him. Nobody does. “Luke and his team at Regional S.T. bring revenue to the hospital, and the chair members want to see they’re as included because they are part of this hospital.” He huffs out a breath and places his hands on his hips. “This isn’t high school, people. We practice medicine in many forms, and our main goal is to help our communities. To ensure we’re doing everything we can to help them in times of medical need. Anyone else have questions regarding participation?”

Collectively, we shake our heads in response. Most of us are too busy reading over the packet to care who the hell will be included, but there are always those few who bring their smart remarks that they got away with in their younger years. What does it matter who’s participating? From my experience, everyone looks up to the sports therapy office. If it weren’t for them, some of these people probably wouldn’t have jobs.

I’m caught up in my thoughts, still wondering who would ask such an asinine question, when Luke leans forward, his breath crowding my ear again. “Check page two.”

I’m still looking over page one when he says it, and I’m completely surprised when I flip the page and see my name listed as one of the clinic volunteers from the emergency department. I bring the paper close and squint.

Layla Robinson, volunteer #1.

The emergency department is comprised of valuable nurses and doctors, including me, but I figured Mildred would have chosen static employees. How can I be a solid face for the hospital when I won’t be working here in a month and a half?

“Looks like we’ll be spending another day in each other’s hair.” His voice is quieter than the last time he spoke, and it rubs me the wrong way, just like it did to have him back at my parent’s house. The experience was jarring. Never, in a million years, did I expect Luke and I would ever be as civil as we were that night. When I stood in front of him on my mom’s porch and practically begged for him to behave himself, I wasn’t sure he’d listen. But he did. And that did something to me. Just like when he walked up behind me and sincerely apologized for what I’ve lost, for what my family lost.

It makes me wonder if the old, real Luke remains hidden beneath the hateful man that made me promise to leave Quaint for good. One can hope, but just like all my interactions with him as of late—I didn’t know what to expect. I still don’t. So, I’m treading lightly and taking it with a grain of salt because who the hell knows where his head is at.

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