Page 83 of I Still Love You

He picks up his beer, lifting it halfway to his mouth before putting it back down. With one big breath, he dives headfirst into telling me shit I don’t already know. “You beat the shit of that Andrew guy because he was forcing himself on her. He pressed charges, and you took your ass in front of a judge to plead your case. She deserves the same respect. To be given a chance to explain herself, Luke. You can’t really be that big of an asshole that you won’t even give her that much.”

Jett’s words fly at me, knocking the air from my diaphragm. My chest caves at the revelation, and I clear my throat to hide the embarrassment warming my skin. Because, shit, I didn’t let her have a voice.

Tilly comes back from the bathroom, telling us about his latest hookup with Holly, and I tune him out. Thanks to Jett, I can’t get it out of my head that I never let Layla defend herself. Worse than that, I can’t help but think how much of a jerk I was for shutting her out and not giving her the opportunity to explain what I saw in those emails. Except, every time I think about it, my mind moves in one direction, and that’s her pedaling her way out of Quaint.

Was she seriously considering staying? Did she tell Aubrey she was done traveling, or did she submit applications to the positions in that email?

I guess I’ll never know because I shut down her side of the conversation before she had the chance to stand up for herself, and I know why I did it. I wanted to be in control for once, so I robbed her of her voice, and now I’ll have to live with it. Just like I’ll have to live with not having her as mine.

35

Layla

I have no grand plan. I’m winging it, honestly, and I’m still not sure if it’s going to work, but I’m hopeful—the most I’ve been in my entire life because I need this to work, for it to open Luke’s mind and have him agree to listen.

If he can’t do that, I’ll know what I’m supposed to do. Aubrey has emailed me every day, reminding me of the deadlines approaching for each of the positions that were listed in the email Luke read, but I haven’t submitted any applications, which is risky on my part, but I physically can’t.

Not without knowing if Luke is being real with where he stands. I’m setting myself up for pain and failure, but what other choice do I have? I can’t leave the state like I did last time. If I do, it’ll close the book to our love story permanently, and I’m not ready to say goodbye.

Luke and I can be good.

We used to be the best.

There was so much love between us that I was certain we could make it through anything. That was before my dad’s accident, but what we’ve been through needs to make me—and us—stronger. Something positive needs to come from it.

I look down at the tickets in my hand and brush the pad of my finger over the text. The best seats on Austin’s Ancient Guardian’s field shine up at me. I splurged for these behind home base tickets and purposefully picked the team in the same city as Mason and Mackenzie. My hope is that they’ll offer Luke a clear mind, enough to invite me along. If not, he’ll get to take whoever he wants to share the experience with. If that’s the case, then I need to accept it for what it is, but I can’t let myself think that far ahead.

I park in the back of his apartment complex’s lot and watch as cars come and go. Each time I catch the slightest movement, my heart jumps. When he finally pulls into his space, I know it’s go-time, but I freeze. I don’t hop out of the car when I need to. My plan was to ambush him before he got inside his house, but I’m going to have to assume the risk of Plan B and hope to God he opens the door when I knock.

I tuck the tickets into my jean shorts and climb out of my car. I walk the short distance to his townhouse, then rap my knuckles against his front door, controlling the quake in my hand when I pull back. My nerves are a mess, my heart squeezing tight through each breath.

A hopeful surge travels through me when the door opens, and I gasp quietly. Then he slams it in my face. “Luke! Wait! Please!”

Knowing this is my one and only chance, I continue without knowing if he’s even listening, “You don’t have to open the door or even look at me, but please just stand there and listen!” I rest my forehead on the door as I tap into the conversation I had with myself on the drive here. No matter how difficult he makes it, don’t give up. Show him who you are and who you want to be for him.

“What you saw in those emails, it wasn’t what you thought,” I begin. “My recruiter has an obligation to reach out with positions at the end of each of my contracts, so I can transition from one to the next without a gap in between. I saw them, but I was weighing out my options.” Hoping like hell he’s on the other side listening, I continue. “I didn’t know where your head was or what you wanted. Yeah, we’ve been spending time together, but with how you felt when I first came back…”

Swallowing down the ache in my throat, I pull my wits together and tell him what I really want him to hear. “I was scared, and I should’ve communicated that with you, but I didn’t, and I take full responsibility on that front. Luke, God, I hope you’re listening. I wish you would’ve told me sooner that you still want to spend the rest of your life with me. It would’ve made all this just a tiny blip. The truth is, I loved you then, and I still love you now. If there’s anything you take away from this, please let it be that.”

My shoulders droop, and it’s almost like I’m hugging the door. I give it another weak pound and roll my forehead against it. “Please, open the door,” I whisper to myself more than anyone. I doubt he hears me through the wood. My head suddenly moves forward, and I have to catch my footing before falling on my face. Luke stands in front of me as I recover, his face pinched in an expression I can’t place. He could be angry or upset or something else entirely.

I’m almost too scared to find out.

His words will set the tone for our future, and I’m not sure if I’m ready to hear them.

He steps back with his hand gripping the edge of the door, and he jerks his head to the side. It’s a silent invitation, and I take it immediately. It’s apparent I’ve done something right, and I’m not about to mess it up.

I step in, off to the side, so he can close the door and glance up. “Luke, thank you, I—”

He grabs my face and slopes his lips over mine. His mouth twists against me, causing a whimper to vibrate in my throat. His tongue tangles with mine when I open my mouth, tasting like desperation and impatience. He hauls me up and presses my back to the front door. “Luke…”

Needy, he devours my lips in another kiss before peppering kisses along my jaw.

“We should talk about this,” I tell him, pulling away again. “Before we act on what our bodies want.”

He straightens, his lips leaving my skin, and stares into my eyes. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes, his eyes the most sympathetic I’ve seen since being back. “I should’ve given you the chance to tell me what I saw. I made assumptions and shut you out. It won’t happen again.” Sliding his minimally swollen lips under my earlobe, he kisses me, sucking and tickling my skin with his teeth.

“If this is going to work…” My voice catches in my throat, his advances making it difficult for me to concentrate when he swirls his tongue down the column of my neck. “We need to communicate. We can’t shut each other out.”

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