Damaged, The Romance of Nick and Layla (Part 4) by Crystal Cierlak Read Free Book Online Page A

hurry. Hastily I slip my feet back into my shoes, grab my personal belongings and room key and slip out the door.
     
     
     
    Once I’m in my own car and driving away towards the nearest Starbucks I feel myself start to relax. This urgency to run fueled by adrenaline is a new experience for me, and I haphazardly wonder if Nick was right when he said I’d wear my heart out. Is such a thing even possible? ’30 is too young to die.’
    Oh, right. It’s Friday. And I am officially 30 years old.
    The line inside Starbucks is long but I don’t mind the wait. For the first time since yesterday I don’t feel the need to check around for familiar faces around me, but once in a while I look up to scan the crowd, just to be sure.
    A vibration in my pocket interrupts my thoughts, and when I fish it out I see Nick’s name on the screen.
     
    Have you run away again, or are you coming back?
     
    The part of me yesterday that briefly considered responding to him is back. The four year wall has already been broken. I didn’t say much to him last night, but I let him hold me, and it was actually what I needed. Could I just go back to ignoring him again? He’ll have to go back to his life eventually, whatever that entails these days, and I’ll have to find something in my life to go back to. Certainly not my mom and dad’s home. The phone vibrates again.
     
    Layla please let me help you.
     
    “Ma’am?” I look up and a barista in a black apron is looking at me expectantly. I’m holding up the line.
    I smile apologetically at her excuse myself, turning around and heading straight for the door, ignoring the strange stares from the people in line behind me. I slide back behind the wheel of my car and start the engine, my fingers stalling on the keys.
    Okay . I take a deep breath and pick up the phone. I tap the screen autonomously and a moment later it’s ringing.
    “Layla,” Nick breathes into the phone. “Are you okay?”
    I open my mouth to speak and it takes a moment for any sound to come up. Finally, it does.
    “Okay. I’ll meet you outside the hotel in ten minutes.”
     
     
     
    I see him standing outside the Canary entrance as I pull into the driveway, and for a moment I feel the pull of adrenaline telling me to run. I pull up in front of him instead and unlock his door. He’s freshly dressed in a fitted black tee and jeans, Ray Bans over his eyes. He gets in and buckles himself into the seat, and I’m unable to look at him. This isn’t going to be easy.
    “Breakfast?” I ask finally as I look from left to right across traffic waiting to make a safe turn onto the street.
    “Sure. You pick,” he replies, and I get the sense from his voice that he’s more hopeful of our ability to communicate.
    We cruise along Carrillo Street and cut in at Cliff Drive, heading back towards the coast and Hendry’s Beach. Turning left into the parking lot I see it’s not too busy, and park in front of The Boathouse, one of my favorite restaurants. We’re seated inside at a table and we sit, order drinks and food, and finally I can no longer ignore him.
    To his credit he hasn’t said a word, and a part of me thanks him for giving me the space to be the first one to speak. His eyes haven’t left me since I picked him up.
    “So,” is all I can manage. Finally I look up at him. Really look at him. He’s aged since the divorce. The last bits of baby fat that once made his face angelic and ageless have gone and he looks first and foremost a proper adult, a man. His hair has darkened but is still blonde, and it rises up above his head in an I’ve-just-been-fucked kind of way that makes him look… He’s always been good looking, sexy, and now it’s even more apparent. The ice in my heart melts a bit, and I objectively look over him and realize he’s become even more handsome since I left him. His cheek bones are more prominent, as is his jaw, cutting across his face in a way most people would kill for. He’s still a