“Saylor, I’ve been gone a long time. I don’t blame you for holding a grudge . . . but at some point, I’d like to think we can be friends again.”
“Friends? Is that what you want from me?” I tighten my arms across my chest, not to ward off the chill this time, but rather to protect my heart because there’s something about Hayes Whitley that just gets to me. To the parts I want to guard and yet know he can weasel his way into without really trying.
And that’s why I need to keep my temper front and center. Use my anger as a shield against this charming man, who is that perfect mix of rugged and pretty-boy handsome. The man who knows from experience exactly what buttons to push.
Because he screams trouble from a mile away in every sense of the word, especially to my heart, because he’ll never stay. Because he’s Hayes.
“Remember that night on Todd Schilling’s property?”
His change of topic gives me whiplash. I’m about to say which time, since there were so many nights we all hung out on his family’s stretch of land. Endless hours lost to the lot of us, acting like misspent youth when in reality we did nothing out of the ordinary. But I don’t need to ask which time he’s referring to because even with the many memories, I know.
How could I not?
“Yes.” My voice is quiet. Eyes inquisitive.
“Do you remember what I said after?”
I nod.
I protect those I love.
The emotions of that night are so powerful, the feeling of security he provided me with, even more so.
And I hate that with that single memory, that off-the-cuff phrase, he’s softened me. Made me remember those words and that promise while trying to push him away.
“I meant what I said then, and I mean it now. I did some shitty things to you and don’t deserve your forgiveness even though I’ve asked for it, but in the end, Saylor, you’re part of my family. Ryder’s part of my family. I can’t think of a memory before my twenties that the two of you weren’t a part of in some way or another. The Laytons have done more than their fair share of crap to you whether intentional or not. And I’d like nothing more than to help you out if you need it. Okay?”
The combustive fuel to my temper just burned out from the unrelenting look in his eyes and the honesty in his words. My pride wars against the emotions of my past. Against wanting to forgive and needing to move on.
On not wanting to still have feelings for this man—to hold on to the hurt he caused when he left, and remind me why I shouldn’t feel anything now. But how can I when he says something like that?
“Thank you. I appreciate it. It’s not necessary though. It’s probably best to leave Mitch in my past and try to make a new and different future.”
Like what I did after you.
Hayes makes the connection between my words and what my eyes are saying. He knows he doesn’t fit in this world of common people and State Street anymore.
“The next time I see you, Saylor, I’m going to earn back the chance to be your friend.” The muscle in his jaw pulses. His tongue darts out to lick his bottom lip.
But friends can break your heart too.
“Goodbye, Hayes. It was really good to see you again.”
I battle against every single part of me that wants to wait and see what he says next, to believe his declaration, but at the end of the day, all I have left is my pride. The only thing I can do is trudge forward. And with that in mind, I offer a slight smile and turn my back on the man I used to think held my future.
Because I need to return to my reality.
The sweet smell of the bakery and the comforting ring of the bell greet me when I pull the door open. DeeDee meets me with a wide grin and eyes still trained over my shoulder where Hayes is probably getting into his car. And I don’t want her million questions. Don’t want to feel like I just broke up with Hayes again when we never really broke up in the first place.
He left.
And I need to remember that. Need to not be blinded by the feelings he stirred up when I’m feeling vulnerable about Mitch’s wedding. I’m still recreating my life, and to some extent . . . me.
“So, uh, why do I sense that Hayes Whitley was more than just a childhood friend like you told me before?” DeeDee asks at my back as I wash my hands in the sink, attempting to refocus. However, the pounding of my heart tells me it’s going to take a few minutes.
I shrug in response and grab a towel to dry my hands on. “We dated for a while. Then he left for Los Angeles and I never heard from him again.” Why is that so hard to admit? When I turn around her eyes are wide, mouth opening and closing like she wants to ask so much more but isn’t sure how much she should pry into her boss’s past. Wise girl.