Page 117 of The Score We Never Settled

He nods his head in acknowledgement, then continues down the street, leaving me to stew on what a world like that would look like.

Layla not stressed out about her Uncle Ben’s dislike for me and everything in between.

That’d be a miracle, honestly.

And it looks like I have some more work to do.

32

LAYLA

Exhaustion isn’tthe word for how I would describe myself right now. Blake and I made so many cardamom pear and almond cream pies today for this week that I could deal with never seeing sliced almonds or pears again in my lifetime.

However, it didn’t stop me from meeting Briggs for dinner.

I ran home, showered and changed, then met him in a reserved little spot in the corner, away from anywhere in town.

It didn’t stop the curious glances and stares, but Briggs and I nestled up in the corner, had three different appetizers, steak, and a delicious chocolate cake with cherries and whiskey chocolate topping.

When we were finished, he walked me home—the restaurant is literally a block away from my house—and he ordered me to sleep.

I argued.

It was his last night in Magnolia Ridge, and I didn’t want to spend it sleeping.

But he insisted, and I scowled.

He kissed me goodbye, all tongue, lips, and pleasure that coiled and settled into my stomach when he left, and I went back to pouting.

When sleep would’ve sounded good hours ago, it lacks right now with my knowing he’s not going to be here in the next twenty-four hours.

I didn’t ask when his flight left because I know that’d give me anxiety. I don’t want to count down the hours and minutes to when I won’t be able to enjoy the time I have left versus the impending doom of his departure.

It’s maddening.

And it’s impossible to stay in my house, alone, while thinking about it.

So, to say I’m sleeping anytime soon is a joke. There’s not a sleeping pill in this universe that would stop my brain from going around in constant circles. I’m fully aware his leaving is going to make me cry, which is why I need to spend every minute I can with himnotcrying because…well, I want to.

With my stubbornness fully intact and now in a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, I drive the ten minutes to Briggs’s house on an excited high.

All my windows are down, my music is turned all the way up, and I hit the driveway made of dirt while I pull up the fifty yards to the estate.

But then my headlights catch his truck’s tailgate down, and the driver and passenger doors open, packed with suitcases and bags.

My stomach drops, not because he’s packing up early, but because the truck is on.

He’s leaving.

And he’s leaving now.

Quickly parking next to him, I put my car in park and slip out. My heart is going a hundred miles an hour as I stride up into the garage, and that’s when he walks out the door, leading out to it, with a backpack slung over his shoulder and his baseball cap thrown on backward.

When he sees me, he frowns, and a heavy sigh leaves his body because he planned this.

He intended to leave without saying goodbye, and I don’t know if I should feel loved by the sentiment or extremely pissed because he’s done this before.

He’s left Magnolia Ridge without a word, and I had to chase after him.