Roses for Layla (The Sweetheart Series Book 1)

by Ash Night

  I sighed, thinking about a few girls who would possibly never walk freely under the light of day again. “You don’t know the half of it.”

  “Well, I don’t expect you to spill your heart out to me but sit down and have a bite to eat. I’m really sorry if I scared you. I just saw you out in front of my house and I thought you could use a warm place to sleep. I have a soft spot for ladies. Hell, I could have been a poster boy for chivalry back in the Middle Ages.”

  Taking him up on his offer, I sat down and shoveled two waffles and a pancake onto my plate. “You know, back then, chivalry was more about being a knight than being kind to women.”

  “You know what I mean,” he said, passing me the syrup. “My name’s Ryder, Ryder Daniels. Got a name, sweetheart?”

  “Kristen,” I answered, thinking of the name of the lead actress in the last movie I had seen.

  “Pretty name for a pretty girl.” He stamped out his cigarette in an ashtray. He noticed me staring at it. “Would you like one?” Standing up, he retrieved a pack of cigarettes from the counter and a lighter from his pocket.

  “Thanks,” I said, putting the cigarette to my lips. In one skilled motion, he lit it for me.

  “So, Kristen, do you need a place to stay?” Ryder asked.

  I took a bite and swallowed before answering. “Are you offering?”

  “Yes, I mean, I know you have absolutely no reason to trust me, but I can’t just leave you on the streets.”

  “And why not?” I shot back. “Most people would,”

  He gave me a crooked smile. “I am not most people.”

  Chapter Two

  Ryder

  She accepted my invitation to stay. Indefinitely. I didn’t know her back story, how she came to end up on the sidewalk outside my house, but I knew she needed someone to help her. I felt like she needed protecting, like she was an injured animal who needed a kind hand. She and I were alike. I could tell that from the moment I saw her.

  Inside, I was frantic. What if we ended up getting close? I didn’t like when people got close. When people got close, things got messy.

  Closeness was broken glass, shards of love that sharpened into the deadliest of weapons.

  Opening the kitchen cupboard after breakfast, I popped a few pills to keep my brain from exploding. No reason to scare the poor girl with a manic episode. My dark sense of humor had probably done enough. She had gone into the living room to bring her things into the back bedroom, a spare bedroom I’d rarely used since moving in five years ago. The trailer house I lived in was small, but it suited me. I’d lived here since I was seventeen.

  Washing the pills down with a glass of water, I made up my mind and decided to check on the girl. I wasn’t sure what to say. I was a solitary guy. I went to work at my job as a gas station clerk, hung out at the bar, and then came home, occasionally hooking up with some random chick that was gone before breakfast. That was how I liked it. I wasn’t one for people. Why I had offered her a room in the first place was beyond me. It wasn’t normal for me.

  Of course, for me, normal was a subjective term.

  “Need anything?” I asked, walking in. The girl was sitting on the bed as if she were getting ready to bolt instead of temporarily move in. I had the strangest urge to wrap my arms around her. She had an excellent poker face, but she had a tinge of sadness that followed her like a shadow.

  “No, thanks again for the room. I really appreciate it. Are you sure you don’t want anything for it?” She looked into my eyes. Her eyes were a soft brown, despite how hard her life may have been. I sighed. She wouldn’t quit asking me that, if I wanted anything for the room. I had no idea what she was going to give me if I had said yes. Judging by the messy state of her general appearance and the faint bruises on her upper arm, thumbprints by the looks of them, it was apparent she was a runaway. It was impossible to even tell how old she was. She looked fifteen but could be my age for all I knew. All the more reason to not ask what she’d intended to give me.

  “For the last time, I don’t want anything. It’s apparent that from how you ate at breakfast that you aren’t going to cost much to feed.” I smiled. “But do you have a plan?”

  She lay down on the bed and stared at the ceiling. It, just like the rest of the place, was a white wall. She was bound to go insane if she stared at it long enough.

  Maybe that was her plan because she didn’t speak for a long time. When she finally spoke, I completely understood. “No, I don’t have a plan. I’ve been without the option for so long that I forgot the plan I had. I think I had one once, but then again, I can’t remember that far back, so who knows? Maybe I never had one to begin with.”

  “I think I understand,” I said awkwardly. “I go into work for four. I’ll write my number down for you in case you need anything.”

  She looked uncomfortable. “I, uh, don’t have a cellphone anymore. My last one got busted by some douche with bad breath.”

  I let out an annoyed breath. “There’s a store up the street. We could go right now. I have a couple hours to kill…if you want.” I looked at the wall, at the floor, anywhere but her eyes. Great, now I was going insane. Why did this one girl make me so nervous?

  “No, you said it was right up the street, right?” She was twisting and untwisting a lock of hair around her finger, not looking at me. So, I wasn’t the only one who was nervous.

  “You’re sure?” That protective feeling, the one I couldn’t quite place, was back.

  Shaking her head, she retrieved her bag from under her bed and unzipped it, deliberately blocking my view of what was inside. After slipping a few bills into the pocket of her jeans, she zipped her bag up and put it back under the bed. A pink teddy bear was in her hands. She placed it on the bed with care. I looked at the bear curiously. She didn’t strike me as the type who would buy something like that. It looked handmade. I wondered if it would be all right to ask about later.

  “Hey, Blue Eyes, this door lock?”

  I blinked and looked at her. “What?”

  She smirked. “The door. Does it have a lock?”

  “Busted, sorry,”

  Her composure faltered for a second. “It doesn’t? Are you sure?”

  I grinned sheepishly. “Yeah, sorry, I haven’t gotten around to fixing it. I, um, broke it a few years ago.”

  “Well, any chance you could have anyone fix it within the next few days?” Her smile was flirtatious. “I like my privacy.”

  “Oh, don’t worry, I’ll have it done by tonight. I have some tools in the kitchen.”

  “Thanks, Daniels, that would be awful sweet of you.” As she passed me on her way out the door, she winked at me. I felt my face heat up and my downstairs get excited.

  I sighed. What was I getting myself into? Running a hand through my hair, I glanced at the clock. It was barely ten in the morning. Heading into my room, I grabbed my notebook off my desk and looked at the barely legible lyrics I’d jotted down the night before.

  Glass shattered hearts, pieces too small to fit

  Thrown into an empty box tucked under the bed

  Will you ever hear me again?

  Will you help me?

  The pieces are calling your name.

  My heart is in a box waiting for you to

  To what? Where was I going with that line? Sighing, I threw the notebook down and decided to work on the melody. Once the melody was in place, the words usually flowed like water. With my favorite guitar pick in hand, I began to play.

  When I was alone in my room, it didn’t take long for me to get lost in my own little world. Glancing up at the clock, I saw three hours had passed. Kristen hadn’t come back yet. How long did it take the girl to get a damn cellphone? Why did I care? She was just a girl. I didn’t understand why I felt so drawn to her. I saw homeless girls on the streets of Bay City all the time. Most of them were junkies. Hell, she most likely was one too. I saw the way she was tapping her foot at breakfast and her demeanor had changed since breakfast. She was c
almer.

  I was such an idiot! I couldn’t believe I didn’t think to say anything before she left, insist to go with her. What if she got hurt, or hurt someone else? I set my guitar down, placed my pick back in its spot on my bedside table, threw on the first shirt I saw, and dashed out the door, barely remembering to grab my phone in case I was late to work.

  “Hey, Blue Eyes, you come to help me pick out a phone?” She laughed loudly as I walked in. She was playing around on a display phone at one of the small tables. I strolled over casually.

  “Are you okay? You’ve been here for nearly three hours. It’s a fifteen-minute walk from my house.”

  “I’m fine. I just got a little distracted. There are so many options here.” She smiled. “I’ve never had this much money before so I thought I’d try them all out before I decided.” She spun around on the white swivel chair she was sitting in, giggling like a little kid. “Wee!”

  “Are…are you high right now? I know you are.” I said uncomfortably, feeling like I was scolding a petulant child.

  “Then why even ask?” she snapped. Her pupils were just slightly larger than normal. “So, what if I am?”

  “Then you shouldn’t be out in public, should you?” I hissed. “You could wind up in jail!”

  “I am perfectly in my right mind! If you would just kindly shut up, no one would be the wiser, dammit!” she whispered sharply.

  “Ryder? Ryder, is that you? Thank God! I have been trying to get ahold of you for months!”

  My head snapped up to look at the person who had spoken. I recognized that southern drawl. I would have recognized it in a crowded room. I had been avoiding it for months.

  Chelsea Higgins beamed at me from across the empty store, making a beeline straight for me. It took everything in me not to bolt. I was the only protection Kristen had against Chelsea. Not that Chelsea could do much in a store. Of course, that hadn’t stopped her from breaking a bottle and threatening to stab me with it in a crowded bar. Yup, I needed to stay between them.

  “Ryder, who the hell is she?” Chelsea accused, looking at Kristen like she was a deadly rattlesnake, a deadly rattlesnake she felt the need to kill.

  “Excuse me?” Kristen raised an eyebrow. “I’m just here for a cellphone. Who are you?”

  “Name’s Chelsea, Ryder’s girlfriend.” Chelsea replied, looking at me with doe-like brown eyes. Kristen looked at me like she wanted conformation that I also saw the three heads Chelsea had.

  “Ex-girlfriend,” I clarified, with as much enunciation as I could manage.

  “No, no, you promised. You said you didn’t mean to hurt me. You said you were sorry. You said we could stay together.” Chelsea’s voice was a pitiful, pleading whine that I could barely stand. It took all the patience I had not to explode.

  Just the sight of her was making my mind conjure up unbidden, violent images of me completely losing it on the poor girl. The rational part of me understood that, like me, Chelsea suffered from an illness, one that could not be helped. The rest of my mind was screaming at me to pretend the rational part did not exist.

  “Chelsea, listen. I want you to really listen to me, please.” I let out an exasperated sigh. “I am very sorry, but that is not what I said. I said we couldn’t stay together. We are not good for each other. We both have mental illnesses that feed off each other. We could hurt each other without meaning to. We already have in the past. You don’t deserve a toxic relationship. You deserve a guy who can help you. I cannot be that guy. I have my own struggles. The relationship is dangerous for both of us. I broke off contact because you need to realize that you and I are not meant to stay together. You are a lovely girl and I wish you all the best, but please do not talk to me again. Do you understand?”

  Her face crumpled, and she reminded me of a toddler who had just been told her dog had just died. “No! No! That isn’t what you mean! You love me, Ryder Daniels! You said you loved me! You said so yourself!” Chelsea was screeching her words.

  The store clerk, a fit but nerdy-looking African American, looked at me with wide eyes. “Please escort her out or I’m calling the cops.”

  “Yes, sir, I am so sorry for all this. She was just leaving.” I said, feeling my whole body flush with embarrassment as I took Chelsea by the arm. She seemed delighted that I was touching her and her wailing cries stopped instantly. She now reminded me of a dog who had just been barking for an hour at a neighbor in his yard, only to stop the moment she heard she was going for a walk.

  Kristen looked at me quizzically but said nothing as I led Chelsea outside as quickly as I could. I sighed. I was going to have explain when I got home. Before checking my phone for the time, I prayed it was almost four so I would have time to figure out how I would explain things.

  My past wasn’t pretty and I wasn’t ready for a pretty questioning girl to pry into it just yet. Preferably never. I just figured if I didn’t ask about her past, she wouldn’t ask about mine, but there was no brushing off what happened. She would want answers. She had a right to them.

  I just hoped that wouldn’t lead down the rabbit hole even Alice herself wouldn’t dare go down.

  “You must have questions,” I said as Kristen came out sometime later with a new phone in hand.

  She looked up from her phone and looked around. “Yeah, how’d you manage to get rid of her?” Her smile told me she was holding back laughter.

  “She stomped off in anger after I tried to tell her repeatedly that I didn’t want her in my life anymore.”

  “Ouch,”

  “Yeah, well, she wasn’t the easiest person to be around,” I said as I started walking home.

  “No way. She seemed so normal all of the two minutes I met her.” She rolled her eyes. “So, what’s her deal? You said something about mental illnesses. What was that about?”

  I grimaced. “You caught that, huh?”

  She shrugged. “You know what, never mind. It’s none of my business.”

  Putting my hands in my pockets, I took a deep breath. “No, you have a right to know. You’re living at my house, after all. I have BPD. Borderline Personality Disorder.”

  I watched her expression carefully as I said it. Her eyes widened slightly. “Okay,” she said slowly. “So, what? You have, like, mood swings or something?”

  “It’s a bit more complicated than that. Actually, a lot more complicated than that. I’m pretty much a mess really, Kristen.”

  She looked at me sheepishly. “Okay, confession time. Since I am staying with you, I suppose I should tell you…My name is actually Layla. You want to talk about a complicated mess? Meet the messiest person you’ll ever meet.”

  I chuckled. “Okay, Layla. Nice to meet you. Anything else?”

  “Not really ready to go there,” she replied. I nodded. Her shields were back up. She was suddenly closed off again like a heavy wooden door slamming shut.

  “Understood. My past is pretty much a mess too.” I walked beside her in silence, my head buzzing with questions. Why would Layla use a fake name? Just who was this girl who wore her sadness like armor? I wanted to know more. I just hoped I’d get the chance.

  Walking through the door after work, I heard a rock song playing in Layla’s room. It was one of my favorites. Quietly making my way down the hall, I saw her singing and dancing around the room. There was no trace of the sad girl who told me her life was a mess. This girl, singing to a fast-paced song in a stranger’s house, was completely happy in that moment. It made my heart melt as I watched her hair whip around as she danced barefoot on the carpet, belting out the lyrics. Her voice was amazing.

  “Oh God, Ryder! Make a little damn noise next time!” Layla exclaimed, flying to the other end of the room to turn off the radio. Her chest rose slightly with each breath. She must’ve been dancing for a while.

  I smirked. “I was enjoying the show. I’m sorry. Should I buy a ticket next time?”

  “I, uh, found an old radio in the corner. I hope you don’t mind me borrowing your CD
s. I’m sorry.” She was looking down at her feet like she had done something wrong and was awaiting punishment. The vibrant girl I had just seen was gone in the blink of an eye. The sad girl was back again.

  “That’s fine. Borrow any CD you want. I have most of them on my phone, anyway. Now, can we talk about how amazing that voice is? You should definitely come to the bar with me one night.”

  “R-really?” Her eyes shone with gratitude. “I don’t sing much. I…I was never allowed to.”

  “Allowed to?” I cringed at the words. Music was everything to me. The idea of not being allowed to sing just didn’t register with me. I would have died without my music a long time ago.

  Sighing, she sat on her bed and picked up her teddy bear. “Yeah, it’s a long story no one wants to hear. And even if they did, I wouldn’t tell them.”

  I didn’t move closer to her, but my eyes fell on the bear she held to her chest. “That teddy bear. It’s important to you, isn’t it?”

  A soft bitter laugh reached my ears. “It’s my best friend. My only friend. Pathetic, right? But at least Lilly can’t hurt me. Lilly may be incapable of feeling, but at least it means that she can’t hurt me, and that’s what matters.”

  “That’s not pathetic, not at all. For a long time, my guitar was my only friend. I’m a loner most of the time so it’s still one of my best friends. I have a few friends now that I’d be happy to introduce you to…if you feel up to it, of course.”

  “No, now please leave. I’m tired.” I could practically hear the door slam again, a deadbolt slamming home for extra precaution.

  “Sure, will you be all right? Did you eat dinner? I could make-”

  “I said out!” Layla screamed as she shut the actual door in my face.

  Sighing, I went into the kitchen and made myself a sandwich. Sad Girl had transformed into Angry Girl awfully fast. Living with Layla might be tougher than I had originally thought. I hoped it wasn’t going to be a rerun of what happened with Chelsea, just with a different actress. At least Chelsea had never been on drugs. I sighed, rubbing a hand over my face, feeling more tired than I had a second ago. Drugs. I needed to talk to Layla about that. I couldn’t afford to lose my house because of a junkie, no matter how pretty she was.