by Ava Winters
Layla shoved him away. She was trying to make him let her go, but he wasn’t making it easy. It was made worse because she didn’t want to do this. She didn’t want to let him go. She had to, though, for his own good. He just didn’t know that.
Peter would move on with his life and find someone else to love. She’d go away and he’d never think of her again. She was no one special, despite what Peter thought. He would meet someone else, someone better, and he’d have the life he wanted. He’d be happy.
“I don’t want to. I thought I wanted this, but I don’t know. This is the same as being with Jacob,” she spat. “I might as well be with him.”
Layla turned her back to walk away. Peter was behind her seconds later, pulling her into his arms. She could feel his heart beating against her back. Her heart matched his, beat-for-beat. This was much harder than she’d thought it would be, but she had to see it through.
“Don’t do this, Layla,” Peter pleaded in her ear. “You’re shaking. I know you don’t want to do this.”
Tears were rolling down her cheeks as she took hold of Peter’s hands and tried to pry them loose. She couldn’t. Part of her didn’t want to.
“Let me go, Peter,” she said coldly.
“No.”
“I’m leaving town in the morning,” she told him, knowing she was about to twist the knife. “I’ve made up my mind. I’m leaving with Jacob.”
Peter’s arms went limp and Layla was able to extricate herself. She turned to look at him. “Goodbye, Peter. I’m sorry.”
Layla turned and walked toward the saloon entrance. She stepped out into the street, but thankfully, Peter didn’t follow. She wasn’t strong enough to keep pushing him away. She wasn’t strong at all, in that moment. She was falling apart and could no longer hold herself in.
“Layla,” Jacob called as she passed a side street. She stopped to look at him.
“Are you happy now?” she spat. “You have what you want? I’m miserable, but I’ll go with you tomorrow. I’ll leave where I’ve been happy and go to a life of despair with you.”
Jacob stared at her blankly. “We leave at seven. I’ll pick you up in front of the saloon.” He walked away.
She couldn’t believe him. He had forced her to do this, and now, to make things more painful, he was going to force her to leave town with him in front of everyone. In front of Peter. Layla knew it was for spite. It was Jacob’s way of rubbing it in Peter’s face that he’d won. She started toward her house. Soon, her feet began to pick up pace until finally, she was running.
She ran all the way home, then rushed in the door and up the stairs to her room. Layla could hear Annabelle calling after her, but she didn’t stop. She sat on the bed and cried until Annabelle came in and stood in front of her.
“Layla, what on earth is the matter?” she asked, concerned.
“I ended it with Peter,” Layla cried. “It’s all over.”
“What?” Annabelle said in disbelief. She rushed to Layla’s side and sat beside her, placing an arm around Layla’s shoulders. “Explain yourself. What is goin’ on?”
“I couldn’t let Jacob tell him,” Layla wept. ”I couldn’t let Peter know the truth about me. He’s such a good man; he’d never understand. He’d never forgive me. So I did the only thing I could. I ended it.”
“Layla,” Annabelle said with a hint of frustration. “I told you to be honest. Why didn’t you do that?”
“Because, in the end, I’d lose Peter anyway,” Layla answered. “At least this way he won’t have to know the truth. I can spare him that. He’ll find someone better. He’ll be happy.”
“And what about you? What’re you gonna do?” Annabelle questioned.
Layla swallowed hard. “I’m leaving with Jacob in the morning.”
“Layla, no!” Annabelle protested. “Don’t do this. Child, don’t make yourself miserable to spare people the truth. Don’t bind yourself to that terrible man again. What if you never get away?”
“Then it will be my fate,” Layla said despondently. “I was a foolish girl who made a foolish choice. Now, I have to live with it.”
Annabelle took hold of her chin and forced Layla to look her in the eye. “You never heard ‘bout forgiveness? We all make mistakes. We all have to deal with the repercussions of those mistakes, but not forever.” Tears were rolling down her cheeks. “I don’t want you to do this. Please, don’t do this.”
Layla got to her feet and faced the woman she saw as a mother. “I’m sorry, Miss Annabelle. It’s already done. My mind is made up. I don’t want Peter to live with the stigma of loving a woman who doesn’t deserve him.”
“Who said you don’t deserve him?” Annabelle challenged as she too got to her feet. “The man chose you. He loves you. He will love you through the truth.”
“I can’t take that chance.” Layla shook her head. “I just can’t.”
Annabelle gazed at her forlornly. “You aren’t gonna change yer mind, are yah?”
“No,” Layla whispered. “What I’m doing is for the best.”
Annabelle sighed and stepped toward her with open arms. She sniffed as she pulled Layla in for a hug. “Sweet girl. I hope one day you see yerself the way we all see yah. Then, you’ll see that this is where you belong. This is where yer loved and supported. I can’t make you stay, no matter how much I wanna. All I can tell you is, there is freedom in the truth, and there is happiness here in Richstone for you. No matter what you choose, no matter how far away you go—you will always be welcomed here. This will always be yer home.”
Layla cried into Annabelle’s shoulder at her tender words. She didn’t think she could ever come back to Richstone, but it was good to know that if no one else would want her, Annabelle would.
“I’ll miss you,” Layla confessed through tears.
“I already miss you,” Annabelle replied as the two women held each other and cried.
Layla’s time in Richstone was at an end. Tomorrow, she would face the choices she’d made and accept her fate.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Peter couldn’t get the look on Layla’s face out of his mind as she’d declared that she was leaving. He couldn’t believe it was true, but it was. She was leaving. He was standing at the saloon watching her go. Still, it didn’t seem real.
Jacob and his boys were gathered together outside of the saloon. Everything inside of him wanted to tell them to push off, but he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. He would not give Jacob McCarthy the pleasure of watching him squirm or seeing the displeasure on his face. He knew the other man was watching, gloating over the fact that Layla was leaving with him and not staying with Peter.
He took a deep breath.
“Easy, there,” Bill’s voice resounded in his ears. “Take it easy.”
“I’m fine,” Peter replied.
“I don’t think you are,” Bill told him. He looked out the saloon window at the sight before them. A large wagon was in the street, and the few things that the boys and Layla had collected were piled up on top of it. Layla had more things than she had when she first came to Richstone. She’d started to build a life and to make a place for herself.
Now, she was walking away from it all.
Was it all a game? Did Layla find some amusement in making him fall in love with her, only to leave him like this? It didn’t make sense. None of it made sense. Maybe he had it right all along. Maybe, when he was wondering about her commitment to leaving Jacob, he was correct—she wasn’t ready. Some part of Layla still wanted that man and his world. What other reason could there be?
There could be plenty of reasons for it.
But what could they be?
I don’t know, but there has to be a reason. She’s leaving.
Peter’s mind warred with itself. He wanted an explanation, but he knew he wasn’t going to get one. Layla wasn’t talking to him. She hadn’t even looked at him when she’d arrived at the saloon with her bag and Annabelle at her side.
Annabelle had loo
ked concerned as she’d watched Layla pack, but she’d said nothing. She had greeted Peter, but something wasn’t right. He could tell there was something there, but she wasn’t talking, either. Eventually, she left, even before Layla could finish putting her things on the wagon. Peter would check on her later; for the moment, he was going to watch Jacob and his men.
“Has she spoken to you at all?” Bill questioned.
Peter shook his head. “Not at all. Not since she told me she was leaving.”
“No explanation at all?”
“None,” Peter replied. “At least, not one I believe.” He sighed. “I don’t know what I believe.”
Peter walked to the nearest table and took a seat by the window so he could look outside. He didn’t understand why they were doing this here. Why outside his saloon? Was it to purposely aggravate him? Peter was convinced it was—he might have been wrong, though he doubted it.
Bill took a seat beside him. He also faced the window. The habits of lawmen couldn’t be changed. It was their nature to keep their backs to what was safe and their eyes on what was dangerous, and they both believed Jacob and his men were the latter.
Peter didn’t want to watch her go, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her, either. Layla was expressionless as she packed. The task seemed to take far longer than it should, as Jacob barked orders to his men and her and they did as they were told. Was Jacob prolonging this, for some reason? Just to torment Peter?
I wouldn’t put it past him.
“Can I get you somethin’ to drink, Peter?” Lucy asked. She gave Peter a sad expression. She was going to miss Layla, too. The two women had become close during Layla’s time at the saloon and had struck up the perfect working relationship. Layla had done that with everyone. There was no one who worked at the saloon or lived in town who wouldn’t miss the young woman who had brought a new ray of sunshine to them all.
“Just some water, Lucy,” he answered.
“You, Bill?” Lucy questioned.
“I’ll take a beer, Lucy.”
Peter gave Bill a curious look. “A drink so early in the day?”
“What? I’m a retired man now,” his old friend replied. “You’re the sheriff, not me. You need to stay on the alert. When do you plan to find yourself a new deputy?”
“Soon,” Peter replied. His eyes remained on Layla.
“You’d better. Jacob and his men might be leaving town, but that doesn’t mean more like them won’t show up. You’ll need someone by your side, just like I did. Hopefully, they’ll be as good a deputy to you as you were to me.”
Peter looked at him appreciatively. “Thanks, Bill.”
He turned back to the window. Layla’s dark hair was falling into her face. The strands had come loose from the braid that held her hair back. It was like dark chocolate against her milky skin, and again, he was reminded of the sweet, unsure girl who had come to town months ago. He smiled at the woman she had become since then.
Layla was a flower that had come into bloom in Richstone. Peter sighed. Maybe that flower wanted something else now that she knew who she truly was. Maybe he was the one who’d woken her up, but maybe it really was Jacob that she wanted. Maybe he was too simple and easy. Maybe Jacob was more exciting and that was what she truly needed, and now she saw that. Maybe he had convinced her that he’d changed.
Peter was tearing himself apart thinking of what the reasons might be and despite promising himself that he would stop, he couldn’t. The questions were still there and he was a man who liked to have answers. He needed them. But he knew that this time, he might have to do without them.
“Who’s going to take care of the saloon?” Bill questioned.
Lucy returned with their drinks and set them on the table between the two men. “Do you need anything else?”
Peter shook his head.
“I’m fine, Lucy,” Bill replied. Lucy excused herself to serve other customers, leaving Peter and Bill to themselves.
“I haven’t thought about it,” Peter replied. “It was all so quick, I didn’t have the chance. Lucy’s doing her best to handle things for now, but she’s no Layla. She isn’t so good with numbers and all the management. She tends the bar well and serves the customers, but she can’t replace Layla.”
Bill took a long gulp of his beer, then set his drink down. “I don’t think anyone could.”
He was right. No matter what he did, no one could replace Layla.
She turned around to face the window and, for the first time since they arrived, their eyes met. Layla stared at him for a long time, her expression resolute. Peter sat forward but she looked away. He knew then that Layla had made her choice and no matter what he did, she wasn’t going to reconsider.
“I think you should try to talk to her,” Bill said, looking at his friend. “There’s something there. There’s something going on.”
“You think I don’t know that?” Peter replied. “I just don’t know what it is. She won’t talk, and I don’t think I should ask anymore. I’ve asked Layla for a lot since we met. Not this time.”
“You’re just willing to let her go?” Bill questioned.
“If that’s what she wants, how can I stop her?”
“You love her, Peter. You have to fight for her,” his friend encouraged.
“I fought for Celia and I lost her,” Peter replied.
“That was different.”
“Yes, it was,” Peter answered. “Celia had no choice, but Layla does and she’s made it. That’s what it comes down to. ”
“You don’t know that—”
“Yes, I do,” Peter interjected. “I told her I’d protect her. I told her I’d be there for her, that I loved her, and still, she’s leaving town with Jacob. What more can I do?”
Bill looked at him.
“No, Bill. This time, I’m going to see this thing through. What Layla wants, I’ll give her. I won’t fight this time. I showed my commitment. I proved myself. Now, I need her to do the same. I need her to show me that she really wants this, us. If she walks out of town, then it’s over.”
“Peter…”
“I’ve made up my mind. I chose Layla, but she has never done anything to show me that she chose me, did she? She never filed for divorce. She’s leaving with Jacob now. What am I supposed to think?”
“Trust your gut. It’s never led you wrong,” Bill countered.
Peter looked at him sadly. “There’s a first time for everything, Bill.”
The older man sat forward. “And this isn’t that time.”
Peter wanted to believe him, he really did, but what he was seeing right now told him otherwise. If Layla loved him and wanted to be with him, there was nothing stopping her. He would have done anything for her, and she knew that. Yet, she was leaving with a man who, by her own admission, had treated her poorly.
The horse whinnied from outside and pulled Peter’s attention away from his friend. Everyone was on horseback except for Layla, who was seated on the bench of the wagon beside one of Jacob’s boys. “Looks like they’re ready to move out.”
“Looks that way,” Bill replied. “You gonna let this happen?”
“Yes, I’m gonna let this happen,” Peter confirmed. “The choice is hers. She has to make it.”
“It ain’t right. I’m telling you, something is wrong here.”
“Enough,” Peter told him calmly. “It doesn’t matter what you say or think, Bill. What matters is what she does, and she’s sitting next to the man getting ready to leave Richstone for good.”
“Maybe it was the money?” Lucy’s voice suddenly interrupted them.
“What?” Peter questioned.
“I just find it hard to believe, is all,” she continued, distracted.
“What are you talking about, Lucy?” Peter repeated.
She looked at him sadly. “I heard some of the other girls talking ‘bout how Jacob and his boys struck it big panning. They said they came into town loaded up with cash, a lot more than she co
uld ever make here.”
“And you think that’s why she’s leaving?” Peter asked. “You think he won her over with money?”
Lucy shook her head. “No. The Layla I know wasn’t that kinda person. I just don’t understand why she’s leavin’. She was so happy to be manager. She was always talking about the plans she had for this place and all she wanted to do. It doesn’t make sense that she would leave. Not when she was putting so much of herself into the town and the people, especially Miss Annabelle.”
