Layla

by Colleen Hoover

  “There’s a casserole in the oven,” Layla says. “It’s almost ready.” She looks at Aspen. “How was the trip to Colorado?”

  Aspen smiles, but it’s obviously forced. She and Chad exchange a look. “Interesting,” Aspen says. “Two flat tires, one broken taillight, six hours wasted while we were stuck in a ditch.”

  “Those six hours were not wasted,” Chad says to her, raising an eyebrow.

  Aspen grins, and that’s enough of that conversation.

  “She seems different.”

  I spin around at the sound of Aspen’s voice. I thought I was alone in the kitchen.

  “What do you mean?” I ask cautiously.

  “Better,” she says. “It’s like I finally have my sister back. Good call bringing her here. I think it’s helped her.”

  I blow out a subtle release of air. “Yeah. Yeah, she’s definitely much better.”

  “She looks tired, though. And she’s lost weight.”

  I nod. “I’m keeping an eye on her. Like she said, she had the flu last week.”

  “The flu?” Aspen asks with a tilt of her head. “She just told me it was food poisoning.”

  Shit.

  Layla and I need to make sure our lies align in the future.

  I nod once. “Yeah. That too. Shitty week.” I grab my cell phone and Aspen follows me as I head outside, where Layla and Chad are.

  Layla is seated at the patio table, next to a heating lamp I turned on after dinner. Chad is sitting at the edge of the pool with his feet in the water. I heated the pool yesterday when we realized they were coming.

  I walk over to Layla and press a kiss to the top of her head before sitting down next to her. She grabs my hand and smiles at me.

  We spend the next half hour pretending our worlds are right side up. We laugh at Aspen’s and Chad’s jokes. We force ourselves to appear relaxed. We even make plans to go on a road trip with them in two months.

  A road trip we know can’t happen if we don’t figure out a way to solve this.

  It hits me as I’m sitting here—why Layla is willing to risk her life in order to get her life back.

  It’s because she doesn’t have a life at all while she’s stuck in this house at Sable’s mercy.

  We can’t risk leaving this place when Layla is merely a temporary possessor of her own body. And what would life be like for Layla if I forced her to remain in our current setup? She’d be a visitor to this world . . . at Sable’s mercy. We’ll never be able to leave. We won’t even be able to take the trip we just planned to take with Aspen and Chad in two months.

  This is it. This will be her life. Exhausted and imprisoned.

  I’m pulled out of my own thoughts when Layla laughs loudly.

  I catch myself staring too hard at her every now and then, but I’m fascinated watching her just be herself, even if she is forcing it. But there are moments—a split second here and there—when I forget this isn’t our normal.

  But it’s not our normal. Hanging out with her sister can never be normal. It’ll have to be meticulously planned. She’ll never get to leave this place with Aspen.

  Even their visits here can never be normal. When Chad and Aspen go to bed tonight, Layla is either going to have to figure out how to stay awake all night in order to prevent Sable from taking back over, or I’m going to have to figure out how to keep Sable quiet if she wakes up while Chad and Aspen are still in this house.

  Maybe that’s why Layla put Chad and Aspen in the downstairs bedroom. That way, if Sable were to take over momentarily while they’re here, they might not hear any commotion from Sable before Layla can slip back into her.

  “Layla told me you put in an offer on this place?” Aspen asks, looking at me. I must have been tuned out of their conversation, because I’m not sure what led to this question.

  I nod. “Yeah, last week. Should be closing soon.”

  “I hope you know we’re going to be here all the time. Wichita isn’t that far away, and I miss this place.” She looks at Layla. “I even miss you,” she says teasingly.

  Layla smiles and reaches out, squeezing Aspen’s hand. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you too. I can’t wait for everything to go back to normal.” Her words are sweet, but Aspen has no idea how much double meaning lies behind them.

  Layla’s back is to the pool, so she doesn’t notice when Chad gets out of the water and makes his way to the deep end. He backs up until he’s about ten feet from the pool. Then he takes off his shirt and starts sprinting toward the water. He jumps, wrapping his arms around his knees, and yells right before he makes a huge splash.

  Layla’s whole body jerks from the unexpected commotion behind her.

  Almost immediately, I see the change. It’s like I can tell the exact moment when Layla slips out of her body now.

  I freeze when I recognize Sable has taken over. The unexpected splash in the pool must have startled Layla, like the night the lightning scared her.

  Sable’s eyes widen, and she looks over her shoulder, sitting straight up in her chair. She stands up suddenly, knocking her chair backward. “What the . . . ?” She looks down at her arms, then up at the house. “How did I get outside?”

  I stand up immediately and try to slip between her and Aspen, but Sable takes a quick step back. “Don’t you dare come near me!” she screams at me.

  Shit.

  Aspen stands now. “Layla? What’s wrong?”

  Sable continues to back away from me. She points at me while looking frantically at Aspen. “He’s drugging me! He won’t let me leave!” I shake my head, ready to defend myself, but before I can open my mouth, Sable pulls one of her shirtsleeves up, revealing the bandage on one of her wrists. “He keeps me tied up!”

  I lunge toward her to stop her, but before I reach her, her arm falls to her side and her eyes close. I stand in front of her, gripping her shoulders, trying to shield her from Aspen’s view. Layla inhales a slow breath, and then she calmly opens her eyes. I see the fear pool in her face.

  “What is wrong?” Aspen says, her voice louder and full of panic. “What do you mean he’s drugging you?” Aspen pushes herself between me and Layla, breaking us apart.

  Aspen is holding Layla’s face in her hands, trying to get her to look at her and not me.

  I grip the sides of my head and take a step back. I have no idea how she’s going to explain this slipup.

  Layla’s eyes are wide, as if she’s struggling to figure out a way out of this. I have no idea what to say. Aspen looks over her shoulder and glares at me as if I’m a monster.

  “Just . . . kidding?” Layla says, completely unconvincing.

  “Wh . . . what?” Aspen says.

  Chad is sloshing over to us now, his jeans leaving puddles of water behind him. “What’s going on?”

  Aspen points at Layla. “She . . . she just said Leeds is drugging her. And keeping her tied up.”

  “I was kidding,” Layla says, looking back and forth between them, attempting to explain away the outburst. She’s forcing a smile, but everything is so tense now.

  “That’s a weird thing to joke about,” Chad says.

  “I don’t think it’s a joke,” Aspen says. “Show me your wrist again.”

  Layla tucks her sleeve beneath her thumb and pulls her hand away. “It was an inside joke,” she says. She looks at me. “Tell her, Leeds.”

  I don’t know what to tell her. At this point, there’s no way Aspen will believe a word that comes out of my mouth. But I nod anyway and move closer to Layla as I wrap a hand around her waist. “She’s right. It’s a weird inside joke. It’s only funny to us.”

  Aspen stares at Layla in disbelief. Then she brings her hands to her forehead as if she doesn’t know what to make of the last minute of her life. She shakes her head, confused. Unconvinced. “Come inside the house with me, Layla,” she says, reaching a hand out to her sister.

  Layla just stares at it. Then she shakes her head. “Aspen, I know that was weird. I’m sorr
y. I do things I can’t explain sometimes . . . because of the brain injury. I thought it would be a funny joke. It fell flat.”

  Aspen studies her sister’s face . . . looking for a sign. A silent plea for help, maybe. “This is seriously fucked up,” she says. Then she pushes past us and heads to the house.

  Chad watches Aspen disappear into the house. Then he downs the rest of his beer. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “You guys are strange,” he says, right before he follows after Aspen.

  It’s just Layla and me outside now.

  Layla covers her face with her hands. “I can’t believe that just happened.”

  I pull her in for a hug. “They’ll get over it.”

  Layla shakes her head adamantly. “Aspen won’t. I saw the look on her face. She doesn’t trust you now.” She presses her face against my chest. “We can’t keep doing this, Leeds. I want it to stop.”

  I nod, but only because I want her to relax. I’ll momentarily agree with anything if it puts her mind at ease.

  “Tonight. I want to do it tonight.”

  I shake my head. “Please, no.”

  “We’re doing it tonight.” Her voice is resolute. Her words final.

  I feel like I’ve sunk to the bottom of the pool. My lungs feel dense with water. I clear my throat. “How are we supposed to do this tonight? Your sister is here.”

  As if she’s been thinking about it the whole time, she answers immediately. “I think drowning would be the easiest way. We’d have to time it perfectly. You’d have to be sure my heart stops before you start to resuscitate me.”

  I separate myself from her and begin to pace the concrete surrounding the pool. “I don’t know that I feel comfortable with that. I don’t even know how to do CPR.”

  “Aspen is a nurse.”

  “Aspen won’t go along with this,” I say.

  Layla closes any space between us and lowers her voice. “She doesn’t have to. We’ll play it off like it isn’t planned. Like it’s an accident. As soon as my heart stops beating, you’ll yell for her. I made sure one of their bedroom windows is open, so she’ll hear you. And if she doesn’t, just run to the window and wake her up.”

  That’s why she put them downstairs. “You already had this planned out?”

  Layla’s eyes are firm. “Don’t judge me. You have no idea what it’s like for me.”

  There’s a world of pain in her expression like I’ve never seen. I don’t even know how to argue against that pain.

  She’s right. I don’t know what it’s like for her. I won’t even pretend to know. All I can do at this point is love her enough to attempt to find trust in her instincts.

  “What if I can’t bring you back right away? What happens if the ambulance takes your body away before you’re able to slip back into it?”

  “Don’t let them. Make sure Aspen brings me back.”

  “How do you know Aspen will know what to do?”

  “She’s a nurse. She saves lives every day.”

  I don’t like this. “What if it works and we bring your body back? How do we know Sable won’t come back instead of you?”

  “I won’t let her, Leeds.” Layla says that with such conviction I can’t help but trust her. I pull her to me and rest my chin on top of her head. For the first time since finding out ghosts are real . . . I’m terrified.

  “I love you.”

  Her words are muffled against my chest when she says, “I love you too. So much. That’s how I know this is going to work.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  It’s been two hours since we came upstairs to prepare for Layla’s drowning.

  Two hours since it started to feel like my world might be coming to an end.

  She has everything planned out. She even wrote down instructions and is making me study them like this is some kind of fucking college exit exam.

  Hold me under until I’m no longer struggling for air.

  Check my pulse. When it stops, call 911 immediately.

  Wake up Aspen.

  Start resuscitation.

  You only have five minutes to save my life.

  I let the paper fall to the bed. Five minutes. I can’t read it again.

  “Do you need more time to look it over?” she asks me.

  “I’m going to need years before I’m ready to do this.”

  She lifts a hand and touches the side of my head. “I know you’re scared. I’m scared too. But the longer we let this go on, the weaker I’m going to be. We need to do it now before we have more slipups. Before Aspen becomes even more suspicious.” She grabs the sheet of paper and folds it up. Then she walks to the bathroom and flushes it in the toilet. On her way back into the bedroom, she grabs my laptop and sets it on her side of the bed. She clears her throat and then says, “I typed up a suicide note. I think it’s important to have, just in case.”

  I cover my face with my hand. “A suicide note?” I can’t keep my voice down. “How are you so calm about this? You just wrote a suicide note, Layla.”

  “I don’t want you to take the fall if this doesn’t work. I scheduled it to send as an email for four hours from now. You know the login to my email. If I don’t make it . . . allow the email to send. But if I do make it . . . delete it. Because it’s going to everyone, Leeds. You, Aspen, my mother . . .” Her voice is even—mechanical, almost—as if she’s completely detached from the reality of what we’re about to do.

  She grabs my hand, wanting me to stand up. Wanting me to follow her.

  The next several minutes feel surreal. I follow her out of the bedroom, down the stairs, and to the backyard.

  She walks calmly into the pool, and so much of this moment is wrapped in the night we met. The first time we spoke was in this pool. Our first kiss was in this pool.

  Why does it feel like our final goodbye might happen in the pool?

  My pulse is frantic. I can’t catch a breath. The reality of what we’re about to do may not be absorbing into her, but it has taken over every part of me.

  She’s standing in the middle of the pool, in the same spot where I found her floating on her back that first night we met. And by some miracle, she has the same expression on her face. Serene. “I need you in the water with me, Leeds.” I realize she’s remaining as calm as she is because she knows if she doesn’t, I’ll talk her out of this. I’ll talk myself out of this.

  But she’s right. We need to do it now, before she becomes even weaker from lack of sleep.

  I’m reluctant as I make my way toward the pool. The water is warm when I step into it, and it hits me that she had me turn on the pool heater yesterday—not so we could swim but for this very purpose.

  We keep our eyes locked together as I make my way to her.

  When I meet her in the middle, I have to close my eyes, because I finally see a trace of fear in her expression. She snakes her arms around my waist and presses her face against my chest. “I know you don’t want this, Leeds. But I want my life back. I need it back.” Her voice is shaking. “Every time I have to leave my own body, it’s like a brand-new heartbreak.”

  I kiss her on top of her head, but I say nothing. I couldn’t speak if I wanted to. The fear is too thick in my throat.

  “Listen to me,” she says, guiding my gaze to hers. “I’m going to have to let Sable take over. It’ll be better if she’s scared and confused when her heart stops. Because I’ll be alert and ready.”

  She’s right. Layla will have the advantage if she’s waiting by the sidelines.

  “As soon as I slip out of her in a minute, Sable is going to panic when she wakes up and sees that she’s in this pool with you. That’s when you do it. You shove her under, and you hold her down and you don’t let her up for air, no matter how scared you are or how guilty you feel.”

  I imagine what that will be like for Sable. Being drowned with no knowledge of why. She’s going to be terrified. She’s going to fight back. And I’m somehow going to have to look past the fact that it’ll be Lay
la’s body I’m drowning as I kill Sable for a second time.

  “Hey,” Layla says, her voice sympathetic and gentle. She’s looking at me like she knows exactly what I’m thinking. She always does. She understands my thoughts as if they’re whispered into her head as soon as I have them. “You won’t be ending Sable’s life, Leeds. You’ll be saving mine. You can do this.”

  That’s the perspective I needed to move forward. This is about what’s deserved. It isn’t about what’s moral. “Okay. You’re right. I can do this. We can do this.”

  “Good. Okay.” She sucks in a rush of air, but it’s a fragile intake, marred by fear. “Are you ready?”

  I shake my head adamantly because who could be ready for something like this? I take her face in my hands, and we lock eyes. She’s scared. Her lips are quivering. When her hands rest against my chest, I can feel her fingers trembling.

  I owe this to her. She’s been forced to spend so much time here alone, waiting for someone she couldn’t remember. I press my forehead to hers, and we close our eyes. When I’m this close to her, I can feel an unfrayed connection not even death could break. We’re bound together for eternity, and if I don’t get this right—if I lose her—that tether will feel like a noose tightening around my heart until it stops.

  I kiss her. I kiss her hard, and I don’t want to stop, because what if this is the last time I ever get to kiss her?

  I kiss her until I taste tears. Both of ours.

  I kiss her until she makes me stop.

  She presses her forehead against my chest, and I can feel the sadness in her sigh. “I love you,” she says.

  I wrap my arms tightly around her and press my cheek against the top of her head. “I love you, Layla.”

  “Thank you for finding me,” she whispers.

  And then she’s gone.

  It’s no longer Layla I’m holding, but Sable. I can feel the change in the way she jerks against me and then lifts her head from my chest, wide eyed.

  I have my hand over her mouth before she can even scream.