๐Ÿ Twelve

Layla changed her plans and stayed in town to eat dinner at Red View's most popular restaurant. She'd calmed down since the argument with Dawsonโ€”mostly thanks to his parentsโ€”but wasn't eager to sit down across from him and pretend nothing had happened. If nothing else, it gave her a chance to explore the town and enjoy what it had to offer.ย 

She'd spent the day poking around in small shops, buying clothes and trinkets she didn't need, and trying to get her mind on anything other than Dawson or weddings. Now, she was ready to settle in for a meal and satiate her growling stomach while listening to the sounds of the river and Red View's quiet nightlife.

Rushing Waters sat right near the river and offered beautiful outdoor dining right by the brook. Round, industrial styled tables sat under the fairy lights strung from the oak trees that surrounded the terrace. Even after the sun had set, the small section of the river bank remained bathed in a warm glow. But as Layla sat alone amongst a sea of couples and families, she couldn't stop the feeling of loneliness from seeping into her.

She'd eaten hundreds of dinners alone. Why did it suddenly feel different now that she knew what it was like to sit down at a table with a family that was filled with warm conversation? It made her even angrier at Dawsonโ€”if it weren't for his obtrusive questions, she wouldn't be trying to avoid him. She could've had another evening with the McAden's instead of getting a poorly-hidden look of sympathy from the hostess when she asked for a table for one.

Still, the night wasn't so bad. There was a small part of her that even enjoyed the time alone to recuperate. She was still getting used to being around people everydayโ€”people who were more than just clients or coworkers. People who actually wanted to talk to her about more than weights and cardio.

It was late when Layla got back to the orchard, so she used the key Kenzie had given her to get inside. Even in the dark, the moon casting long shadows on the hardwood, there was something about the house that was comforting. Something that had her taking in a deep breath as she rested against the front door, letting it out in a long sigh. It would be so much easier to hate it, to never want to come back. She wished she could see it all through the same lens as her parents did. Just some random town, some random family in the middle of Nowhere, USA.ย 

But in her heart, in a place she'd never been aware of before, she knew that wasn't possible. There was something here that would stick with her for the rest of her life. Maybe it was the bond of the McAdens, or the community of Red View, the views or the sweet smell of the breeze. Maybe it was everything all at once. Whatever it was, it had a hold on her, and it didn't feel like she'd be free of it anytime soon.

As far as she could tell from theย quiet and darkness, everyone else was asleep. It wasn't a surpriseโ€”running the orchard and preparing for the wedding took a lot of energy, and she'd learned quickly that the McAden's were an early to bed, early to rise type of family. She crept upstairs, not wanting to wake anyone, and slept soundly until her alarm woke her.

Dawson didn't join the morning workout, something she was both grateful for and annoyed by. She didn't want to talk to himโ€”so why did she want him to talk to her?ย 

She wished he would apologize, but knew there was nothing to apologize for. He was right, after all, and he was only sticking up for his family. It wasn't just the fact that he'd insulted her morals that was ticking her off, it was that in the process, he'd shown how solid his were in comparison.

She needed to get her mind off of him somehow. Yesterday's trip into town clearly didn't help much, so she figured it would be pointless to head out again just in hopes of avoiding him. Instead, she took Kenzie up on the offer she made as they were finishing up with some stretches, and after a brisk shower she headed downstairs to meet her in the kitchen for candle-making.

It was a beautiful day outside, all traces of yesterday's heatwave long gone. It had simmered down into weather that was now carrying a hint of fall. A steady, gentle breeze trailed into the house, swaying the pale curtains hanging on the kitchen windows. Absently, Layla wondered what it was like for Dawson to work outside every day, enjoying the days like today but having to bare Virginia's bitter winters and muggy summers.

Layla eyed the supplies splayed out over the countertop and the island in the center of the kitchen, and Kenzie in her bright red apron. "This looks... complicated."

Kenzie grinned, waving the thought away. "The process is pretty simple, really." She gestured around the room to different stations as she spoke, "We chop up the apples, boil them, and add that to the melted wax with some cinnamon. Then we dye the wax red and pour it into these," she picked up one of the small glass jars that had wicks glued inside, "and let them set for a day."

She let Layla take care of chopping the apples. Thanks to her time in the sorting shed, she knew these bruised apples were probably from the batches that Dawson sifted through. Their flaws didn't matter now as she cut them into tiny pieces, tossing them into the pot that was simmering on the stove and filling the kitchen to the brim with the scent of apples.

Kenzie watched the wax, stirring it and keeping an eye on the temperature. "How was dinner at Rushing Waters?"

"Nice," Layla answered. "I read on the menu they get a lot of their ingredients from the surrounding farms and orchards. Anything from you guys?"

"Some. They do a lot of apple desserts in the fall, so that's when we really start to do business with them. The first date I went on with Marshall, he took me there. We ended up sharing an apple crumble for dessert, and I told him we could've just saved our money if I'd forced Dawson to make us something at home."

Layla smiled at the story. "How long have you two known each other?"

"Oh, since high school. He was my best friend before we started dating. He had a crush on me for years, but I never knew about it. I never imagined heโ€”or any guy, reallyโ€”could think of me that way, you know? So I never let myself think of him that way until he confessed."

Layla wasn't sure what would make Kenzie think that men wouldn't be interested in her. She was radiant, and probably the friendliest person Layla'd ever met. Everything she did was laced with positivityโ€”even the painful extra reps of their workouts and the stressful task of planning her wedding. From what she'd seen, there was nothing that Kenzie couldn't tackle with a smile.

"We've been together now for four years. We've talked about marriage since pretty early on, but he wanted everything to be just right, and I didn't mind waiting. I knew I wanted to wait awhile before starting a family, anyway. But his business is really solid now, and we can afford to build our dream house, so I guess we both realized there was no reason to put it off anymore. He proposed after we had another date at Rushing Waters. So it's a special place for us in more ways than one."

"You guys work well together," Layla commented, dropping more apple chunks into the pot next to her. "It was something I worried about when I was thinking about starting the boot campโ€”some couples really don't do well with this sort of thing. They start to think they're competing against each other, rather than working together."

"Do you train a lot of couples?"

"Not that many, but some. A few fashion models and their boyfriends, who are all trying to make it in one thing or another. Some of the movie stars I train bring in their girlfriends every now and then. Just to try and show off to them, I think."

Kenzie giggled, still stirring the wax. "I can imagine they don't all seem so glamorous when you've seen them exercising day after day."

"You're right about that. Plus, you get to know some of them more than you'd like to. It's always nicer working with people who haven't let all the fame go to their headโ€”or even better, the clients who aren't famous. You and Marshall offered me a place to stay, and you thank me after every workout. It's a lot different than how I get treated back home."

There was a deep sympathy in Kenzie's voice as she asked, "Is that what made you want to branch out? To get away from all that?"

"Pretty much." Layla nodded as she reached for another apple. "I want my work to feel like it means somethingโ€”if that makes sense."

"It makes sense. And your work means a lot to me and Marsh," Kenzie replied, joy laced in the words. "I'm already down a dress size from when we started the program, and I'm close to losing another. But more than that, I just feel good. It's nice, keeping active. You made it so easy to start, and now I don't see myself stopping. If our house plans weren't already finalized, I would've added some kind of gym. Maybe Marshall can find someone to buy a lot in town and turn it into one."

"It smells good in here." The deep voice nearly made Layla jump. It certainly had the hairs on her neck standing up. She didn't turn to look at Dawson, instead keeping her attention focused on the apples.

"Oh! Perfect timing," Kenzie said. "Do you mind keeping an eye on this wax for me while I use the bathroom?"

Dawson agreed, and Layla tried not to tense as they switched places. She shifted her weight further away from the oven, distancing herself as much as possible while still in range of the pot.

He waited until the door was swinging shut behind Kenzie to speak. "I'm not diseased, you know."

She hadn't meant to make her maneuver so obvious, and she had to fight back a smile at the teasing.ย 

"How was dinner in town?" he asked casually when she didn't respond.

She kept her chin up, her shoulders square. "Fine."

"My parents said you stopped by to see them. They like you, you know."

She wished the simple words didn't make her so happy. The McAden's had welcomed her with open arms, and she was beginning to wonder how she would ever manage to leave such a warm embrace. She was growing way too fond of everythingโ€”the house, the family, the orchard and the town. Never had she feared missing somewhere until now.

"I'm sure that's hard for you to believe," she replied sharply, "given that you think I'm such a terrible person."

"Hey, now," he let the spoon rest against the pot, turning his full attention to her. "I never said that, and I don't think it, either."

"Could've fooled me."

"If I thought you were a terrible person, I wouldn't give so much of a damn about you throwing your life away. I like you just as much as everyone else does, and I know if they knew the truth, they'd tell you exactly what I have been."

"Which is what, exactly?" She asked, knife coming down loudly against the cutting board with each slice of the apple. "That I should turn my back on everything that I know, everything that I have in life, just for the chance of something that might never happen? I appreciate the sentiment, but it's a stupid one."

"Not half as stupid as what you're doing."

"God! You are soโ€”" Her sentence dissolved into a gasp as the knife made contact with her thumb, slicing into the skin. A thin line of crimson bloomed immediately, blood flooding from the wound.

She moved for the sink, but Dawson beat her to it. He took her hand in his and turned on the tap, running her finger under the gentle stream of water. She grimaced at the sensation, looking away and trying to ignore the heat that was blooming inside her now that their bodies were just inches apart. She'd placed all that space between them for more reasons than annoyance.

He turned off the water and she opened her eyes to see him leaning over and reaching into one of the drawers of the island, pulling out a small first-aid kit. "You're not the first person to cut yourself in this kitchen."

As he undid the latches with one handโ€”the other still holding hers, forcing the heat inside her to move to her faceโ€”she watched the sunlight catch a few tiny, white scars on the tanned skin of his hand.

"I never thought of baking as a dangerous hobby," she murmured as he unscrewed the lid for a tube of ointment, dabbing some onto her cut. The actions all seemed too gentle for him. Touch so light, his hand just barely holding hers in place as he worked. She hadn't realized hands that large and tough could be so steady. So... tender.ย 

His lips toyed with a smile. "Ah, so you've discovered my secret."

"Don't know why you'd want to keep it one. The pastry was delicious. I wondered who made it."

"I'm guessing my father ratted me out." His focus was set on her thumb, and he let go for a brief second to unwrap a bandage. She hoped he didn't hear her breath catch when he took her hand again, dressing the wound.

Her voice was too soft for her liking as she replied, "I'm no snitch."

The laugh that escaped him was as soft as his touch, and as his fingers secured the bandage around hers, Layla found herself wishing it could have taken longer. That she had some excuse to live in this moment with their bodies this close and her hand in his all day.

"Yours won't scar," he said, still holding her hand even though the job was done. He met her eyes, and she was grateful for the counter behind her when her knees threatened to give. Why did he have this effect on her? Why couldn't she just ignore it, turn it off somehow? "But you should keep it covered for a few days."

"Sure."

His gaze fell back to her hand, which was limp in his. She wanted to straighten up, to jerk it back and move away. But she didn't, because the want to stay there was so much stronger. He moved their hands towards himself, raising hers to his face. Her insides swirled, eyes widening as she watched and waited for him to brush his lips against her skin.

"There's blood on your ring," he murmured with a frown, letting go.

"What? Oh." Reality rushed back to her and she felt herself flush, turning to the sink and taking in a breath as she cleaned it off. What was she thinking? She'd been expecting him to kiss her wound better, and still she'd left her hand in his, waiting, wanting. She was behaving like an idiotโ€”and thinking like one, too.

He let out a laugh through his nose, leaning back against the countertop. "There's a metaphor in there somewhere."

At that she shook her hands dry, not caring if she splashed him. "You should check the wax."

"And you should throw that ring in the garbage disposal."

She whirled to face him with furious eyes, and only became angrier when she saw the joking grin on his face. He was not only getting to her, but he was amused by it. He strolled easily over to the stove, stirring the melting substance.

"You know," she snapped, walking back over to her own station with heavy feet. "I don't know what makes you think you're such an expert on love. Your mother told me yesterday that you've basically sworn off the idea of marriage altogether."

"And?" he prompted as she tossed the tainted apple chunks in the trash.

"And?" she repeated in disbelief. "And so I don't see how you can stand here with that air of superiority, telling me I'm giving up on something that you've already given up on!"

"Look, just because I don't... do love, doesn't mean I can't have an opinion. You don't have to get married to know when someone else shouldn't."

"You don't do love," she echoed his words again, scoffing at them. "You are such a hypocrite. Condemning me for my choice when you've made the same one. I can't believe I've been letting you try to tell me what to do."

"You've hardly been letting me," he said lightly. "And I'm not a hypocrite. I don't pretend that I want love, or marriage, or anything more than something casual. Everyone in my life knows I'm never gonna settle down, and so do the women I go with. You, on the other hand, have convinced everyone to believe in a lie, including yourself."

Layla forced her mind not to dwell on "the women I go with." Dawson's dating life was the last thing she should care about, other than the fact that it did, in fact, make him a hypocrite.

"Me lying is irrelevant." She wished he would take his attention off of that stupid wax and look at her again. "I'm talking about you being so convinced, before I ever admitted to it, that I wouldn't be happy with my arrangement. If you can be happy with your... your careless flings and your one-night stands, why was it so hard for you to think I could be happy with my marriage, even if it wasn't based on love?"

"Simple," he said, finally facing her as he stirred. The light had left his gaze, though, and there was no humor in his expression anymore. "I never said I was happy."

She felt the pang of sympathy as she realized they were in the same boat, but it was overshadowed by the bitter anger. They were in the same shitty boat, and yet the whole time he'd been acting like he was in a position to throw her a life preserver to get her out of the rough waters.

"So what, I'm supposed to think of it as some act of nobility? That you're trying to save me from the same fate?" She crossed her arms, glaring at him. "Well I don't. Because to me it seems a lot more like you've been using me as a sparring partner because you'd rather confront me than yourself."

He let the spoon fall against the metal pot with a loud clang, jaw tight as he held her glare. Only the sound of the kitchen door swinging open drew Layla's gaze away.

"Sorry, Marsh called to tell me he's going out to dinner to try to close a deal tonight," Kenzie said, seeming completely oblivious to the tension she was walking straight through. She stepped right between them to check on the wax with a grin. "Looks like it's done!"

"I gotta get back to work," Dawson said, striding out of the room. He gave the door a harsh push, letting it swing wildly behind him. Kenzie didn't notice the lingering sign of his anger, and Layla did her best to pretend she didn't feel a longing to go after him.


Sorry no update last week! Hopefully this longer chapter makes up for it ๐Ÿฅฐ And I hope you enjoyed all the tension-- both good and bad lol ๐Ÿ˜†

Comment