Two days after Gunnar's attack, I fidgeted on the edge of my bed, distressed and anxious.

But not because of Gunnar, fuck him, I had more important things to worry about.  

Like Daniel, who wasn't buying my story, no matter how many times I told it. I think he suspected the truth, or some variation of it, because he kept gently but firmly insisting that I tell him what had really happened, making sure to keep a larger-than-usual physical distance from me while he did.

It had enraged me. I could never feel threatened by Daniel and it broke my heart to see him like that, cowering as though he had to apologize for being male. Fuck that, Gunnar wasn't a man, he was a miserable, disgusting thing and I wouldn't let his actions affect the real men that I cared about.

I'd taken Daniel's hand in mine, looked him in the eye and repeated the lie. He'd let it go, but I could see him digging his heels in and settling in for the long run. This was far from over as far as he was concerned. 

Then there was Peyton, who wouldn't stop texting. He was going back to school on Sunday and I was running out of excuses not to see him.

There was no way Peyton would leave without seeing me, and my face looked worse than it did the night of the attack. I had no idea how he would react to it, but I was pretty sure I didn't want to find out.

Or maybe I should tell him.

Peyton would do something about it, that much I knew. He'd be smart about it too, and had the resources to get away with it, but what if he didn't? I couldn't risk something bad happening to him any more than I could, Jake.

Jake, the number one cause of my worries, currently AWOL and driving me up the wall.

Last night, he'd told me he was going out with Garrett. Fine, he did go out with his friends every once in a blue moon, even though he was more of a homebody who preferred to stay in, usually with me and Daniel.

Then tonight, he'd told me that he was going out again, this time, with Chase. I'd told him no, playing up the part of neglected girlfriend. I'd done it all in front of Daniel too, but we'd argued anyway and it had ended with Jake walking out of the house, slamming the door behind him.

I'd tried to convince myself that he was telling the truth, that maybe he'd needed a breather or something.

But at nine, I'd gone back to my locker to retrieve my phone charger and had seen Chase there, working the night shift. And no, he hadn't seen Jake since the morning.

I'd called him over and over again, even trying him with Daniel's cell. He hadn't pick up, so I paced by the windows, looking for headlights, clutching my phone to my chest. 

At midnight, Daniel had come out of his bedroom, fully dressed.

"Goin' out," he'd said, pulling his Stetson on.

He didn't have to tell me that he was going to look for Jake. His jacket had parted when he'd put his hat on, and though he'd been quick to zip it up, I'd already seen that he was carrying.

"Don't wait up for me darlin'," he'd said before walking out into the night, confirming my biggest fears.

This wasn't just me being dramatic, or a worrywart. There was a reason to worry and this was real.

Daniel wasn't a man to act without cause and being the grandaddy of all homebodies, he never ever went out at night.

My phone dinged.

"Please, Jake, please."

It was Peyton.

P: Breakfast tomorrow then? Lunch is fine too. Dinner. A snack in between any of the three?

Crap. I shouldn't have opened it, but it was too late, I couldn't leave him on read. Chewing on my lip, I was carefully typing out another excuse, pink eye, when I heard the pebbles against my window. 

Thank Fuck. I'm going to fucking kick your ass to the moon.

In my rush, I stubbed my toe on the bedpost and hobbled the rest of the way. I threw the window open and leaned out, with the same butterflies-in-the-stomach feeling I still got whenever he was near, no matter how often I saw him, or how angry I was with him.

"Jake!"

He wasn't standing in the open like he usually was, but was leaned up against a tree. It was too dark to see anything beyond his silhouette, but even from that, I could tell that his left arm was hanging uselessly by his side.

The smile dropped from my lips. "Oh my God, Jake, what's happening?" Grabbing my flashlight from the windowsill, I threw my legs out the window.

"Layla!"

"Stay right there, I'm coming down!"

"No!" He stepped forward, as if that would stop me, then doubled over to catch his breath. "Stay inside. Listen to me."

I froze, terrified by the fear in his voice. I'd never seen him afraid, of anything.

"Layla!"

"Yes, yes, I'm here, talk to me. Tell me."

He struggled with it, wheezing through the shudders racking his body.

All the strength left my body then and I couldn't have climbed down had I wanted to. I sagged against the window frame and leaned my forehead against the glass.

No. No, no, no, no, no...

"Listen to me," he said again. "I love you. You know that right? I've loved you from the get go. And I really wanted to marry you, and I wanted to have babies with you, and ride horses with you, and be happy with you."

I whimpered.

No. No, no, no, no, no...

"And I wanted to be good. I knew I wasn't any good for it, but I wanted to be good for you. I swear to God, I tried the best I could."

I couldn't move, couldn't breathe. "What did you do?" I whispered.

"Baby, I fucked up. I fucked up real bad," he said.

My hands shook so badly that I don't know how I managed to switch the flashlight on. But I did, and I aimed it at him.

"Jake!" I threw my legs out the window. 

His eyes went wide and he stepped out of the shadows, waving his hands in front of him. "No, no no no! Layla, stay. Stay there. Please don't come down, I'm begging you, stay."

Jake was drenched in blood that I hoped, but doubted, was his. He wouldn't be walking if it were. His eyes were swollen shut, his knuckles shredded raw, and he was bleeding from his forehead.

"What did you do? Jake, what did you do?" I sobbed.

But I already knew the answer.

"I'm so sorry. I fucked up. I fucked everything up."

"Is he dead? Did you kill him Jacob? Did you fucking kill him?" I was hysterical, my voice shrill and barely audible, out of control tears streaming down my cheeks.

"I don't know! I don't know."

I buried my face in my hands and sobbed, my wails carrying into the humidity thickened night.

It would rain tonight.

"Baby, I gotta run." His face contorted in pain and he put his hand to his abdomen. "But I couldn't leave without seeing you."

"Go where?"

"I don't know."

Sobbing, I looked at him, all my hopes and dreams crumbling to dust and blowing away.

The time we'd spent together flashed through my eyes, the ankle, the barn, El Paso.

Jake outside of Buck's, playing his guitar for me. Jake on the Ferris wheel, reeling me in with his eyes, Jake on horseback, Jake half asleep in front of the TV.

I was never going to see him again. I couldn't bear it.

"Please don't cry Layla, I'm so sorry. But call Peyton, tell him he needs to come get you, right now. Then lock the door and don't open it for anyone until he gets here. Do you understand me? Tell him everything, he'll take care of you."

I nodded.

"Whatever you have to do Layla," he said softly. "I'm not coming back. I didn't keep my promise to you, so don't think you have to keep your promises to me." He tried to smile. "Go on, go inside. Do what I told you."

I dragged my forearm across my eyes and nodded. "Okay, but hold on. Don't move. I swear to God, Jake, you stay right where you are. Do you hear me? I need to give you something."

He nodded. "Hurry."

As fast as I could, I grabbed my backpack and dumped all my school stuff onto the floor. Ears straining to make sure I didn't hear the sound of his engine gunning, I frantically dug through my belongings.

"Jake!"

When he looked up, I threw the bag down and he bent to retrieve it. It wasn't very heavy at all, but he struggled with the weight.

The stars laughed at me from the skies, the face of the moon mocked me from behind rain clouds.

But I jumped anyway.

"Layla no!"

But he was on me, holding my face between his hands, showering me with kisses. I brushed the grass from my knees and pushed him away. Snatching the backpack from him, I shrugged it onto my shoulders. "You really fucked this up Jacob!"

"This is crazy. You can't-"

"Shut up! Of course I can, and I am."

We left Canyon with hardly anything but the clothes on our back and a backpack filled with my underwear.

***

Hardly anything because we made one stop before we skipped town.

The arguing started as soon as we got into his truck. I wanted to go to his house and get our money. He said we didn't have the time.

It was a good thing I gave in because within seconds of us leaving the property, the cops rolled in, squad car after squad car. It was also a good thing that I was driving, with Jake fully reclined in the passenger seat, bitching and moaning about how much pain he was in. But I'd already done a quick once over and he was more or less in one piece, so I was hardly feeling sympathetic.

Jake had another plan. I was completely out of my element - I knew that now, so I stopped arguing and drove according to his directions, my legs shaking all the way. Killing the headlights, we pulled up in front of a ramshackle house just like Buck's, only on the opposite end of town.

It was like a bad made-for-TV crime movie. I parked the car and Jake told me to wait there, to drive away if he wasn't back in five minutes. Pulling the hood of his hoodie over his head, (absurdly, I wondered why concealing his identity even mattered at that point) Jake left.

He kicked in the front window and disappeared into the house. Two minutes later, he was out, duffel bag swinging from his shoulder. 

I didn't ask what was in it, and he didn't tell me.

We really left after that.

***

The adrenaline faded once we hit the highway and the enormity of it all started to sink in. The surreality of the situation, the disbelief, the fear.

What the fuck was I doing?

I felt sick about Daniel, but tried to find comfort in the fact that we would've left in three months anyway.

Then of course, Peyton.

Somewhere along the way, Jake had stopped answering my questions. He was still breathing, but his eyes were closed. Scared shitless, I pulled into a rest stop, dark and deserted at this time of the night. Yes, I wanted to check on him, but I needed a minute too. My hands and legs were shaking so much that it was difficult for me to drive.

I can't just leave Peyton like this...

Jake was either asleep or passed out, but there was nothing I could do for him.

"You better not die," I murmured. Then I killed the engine and called Peyton.

At the sound of his 'Hello', my throat closing in so tight that I couldn't speak.

I'm really leaving him, all alone.

"Layla? What's going on over there? Why are the cops-"

I sobbed his name. 

"I'm on my way, hold on. Five minutes," he said.

I pictured his face, eyebrows tight with worry, white knuckled hands gripping his phone.

"I'm not there anymore," I whispered. "We're leaving."

When he asked why, I briefly explained the situation to him. And when he asked where we were, I told him.

"I'm on my way. Layla, wait for me, promise you'll wait. You can't leave without saying goodbye to me."

That was why I'd called. Everything else I could leave behind without regrets, but not Peyton. Never Peyton.

After hanging up, I cried some more, and fretted over Jake who looked a lot paler than he had earlier. And yes, I second guessed my decision, over and over again.

Thirty minutes later, headlights blinded me through the rearview mirror.

Peyton.

Like a desperate child seeking its mother, my hand shot to the handle, fumbling and cursing at the lock.

Let me out, let me out...

I was still messing with the lock when Jake grabbed my wrist, scaring the shit out of me.

"Go back with him," he said.

So he wasn't unconscious.

Ignoring him, I opened the door and stepped out. Five steps later, I backtracked and took the keys from the ignition.

Just in case.

Peyton was still in his car, talking to someone on the phone. It was an intense conversation, judging by the expression on his face.

So I took a moment to drink him in, the familiar silhouette of his profile, the strong lines of his shoulders, the gentle waves in his hair.

I can't believe it. This is the last time I'll ever see him. 

He hung up, and I took a deep breath. I really did try to stay calm and collected, but the second our eyes met, I was running at him.

Peyton all around me, he felt so good, so solid, so safe, holding me so tight against him that we both had to gasp for breath. 

"Thank God you're okay," he murmured, palming the back of my head and holding it into his chest. He kissed the top of my head over and over again, then pushed me back, held me in place while he surveyed my beat up face.

His jaw ticked but he said nothing about it.

"I couldn't leave without seeing you," I said.

He nodded, released me.

We stared at each other, memorizing each others' faces. And then he smiled, that same smile he smiled when we first met. He opened his car door. "Get in the car."

Huh?

I frowned. "What? Why?"

"I need to talk to Jake in private and it looks like it's going to rain," he said.

When I hesitated, his eyes dimmed and a sardonic smile appeared on his lips. "I'm not going to kidnap you, Layla." 

Because I trusted him, I let him put me in his car. I had something I needed to give back to him anyway, and it would be easier to leave it here.

Taking my phone out of my pocket, I hit the home button and looked at the screen. It was still set to the same picture he took of me by the lake, a year ago.

As long as I had it, he'd wait for me, have hope that I'd call. And that was no way for him to live. And as long as I had it, I would always be tempted to call. And that was no way for me to live either.

We needed a clean break, so we could both move on, rid ourselves of the shackles we'd put upon each other.

I placed the phone in the passenger seat, face down.

Peyton opened the door to Jake's truck, knelt down so that he was at eye level with Jake. Hell yes, I rolled my window down and strained my ears like it was nobody's business, but it was useless - all I heard was the rustle of leaves against the storm winds.

They talked for about ten minutes. Peyton nodded a lot, asked some questions. Finally, he handed a business card to Jake, which Jake took and shoved into his pocket.

I'm gonna fish that sucker out and see what it is at the first chance I get.

Finally, Peyton turned back my way, a dark solitary figure in the night, hands deep in his pockets. Punch after punch, life kept beating him down, didn't it? And now, me too.

He stopped and we looked at each other, keeping our expressions hidden while we still could.

I stepped out of the car. He walked toward me with a drag in his steps and stopped three feet from me.

"You sure about this?" he asked.

It killed me to kill him like this, but I nodded anyway. Then I tried to smile but I couldn't see anything through the blur of my tears.

"The whole drive here, I tried to think of something I could say to make you stay."

I shook my head.

"I know," he said.

Around us, fat drops of rain started to splatter onto the pavement, urging us to hurry.

He dug into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper, bigger than the one he gave Jake. "Here," he said. "Just in case."

It was a check, blank, signed in his neat, bold hand.

The last thing I did wasn't going to be to take something from him, everyone always wanted something from Peyton. I tore it into four pieces and shoved it into my pockets.

He didn't seem surprised.

He walked to his trunk and dug out the first aid kit. "He looks rough, you'll need this," he said.

That, I accepted gratefully. "Thank you."

"You should go," he said.

"I know."

He stepped out of my way.

So I walked, each step away from him harder than the last. 

Don't do it... don't do it...

I was halfway back to Jake when Peyton did it.

"I love you, Layla. It's always been you."

The world crumbled and my heart ripped to shreds, the weight of his words, overwhelming. I felt ancient, so old and so tired that I could barely breathe.

But I turned and ran to him, crashed into his arms. His arms went around me so tight that for sure, I thought we would both die from it.

Let's just die, Peyton. Here, together, all three of us.

"Stay, Layla," he said, his whisper harsh and broken in my ear. "You don't know what this feels like, for me to have to let you go. Change your mind and come with me, I don't care how miserable you'll be in New York, we can make it work. I'll make it work."

"Peyton-"

"I'm yours, Layla, I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you."

I touched my palm to his cheek. "I needed you just as much as you needed me. And I love you too Peyton Bishop. I've loved you from the very beginning and I'll always love you no matter where I am or what I'm doing. Don't you ever forget that."

He knew what I meant, so he released me.

By then the rain was falling in earnest so I couldn't tell if he was crying or if it was just the rain dripping from his golden eyelashes when I got up on my toes and pressed my mouth to his. And when he parted my lips with his tongue, I kissed him the way lovers do.

Because after everything was said and done, that's what we always were to each other wasn't it? From the first moment we met and in the purest sense of the word.

"Peyton, go." I said, pushing him away. "Please. I can't drive away from you."

He did.

Frozen in shock and horror, I watched him leave me.

Just as his tail lights were about to disappear around the bend, I ran after them.

"Peyton!" I yelled his name over and over again, but it was drowned out by the sound of rain and thunder. Sobbing, I ran after him, but he was long gone, it was too late.

Ten minutes longer, I stood in place, wondering if he would make it home okay in the rain, if he would be okay. If he would be okay when he woke up tomorrow morning. And what about the morning after that?

Bawling, I returned to the truck. Jake side-eyed me the best he could with his two busted eyes.

"What!" I yelled it at the top of my lungs.

"I don't know about shoving your tongue down his throat," he mumbled.

I slapped at his shoulder repeatedly, taking my frustrations out on him. "Shut up, shut up, shut up! This is all your fault!"

Once satisfied, I leaned over and kissed him, ready to go at last.

So we left, and I cried and sobbed all the way out of Texas.

A/N: Four chapters to go! What's gonna happen? 😱

For those of you who haven't already, please do check out my new work in progress: The Quarterback's Virgin.

I started it for Nanowrimo, am six chapters in and now fully committed to seeing it through.

It's different from this story, but I'm having a lot of fun writing it.

To see it, go to my profile: @meghahn

For those of your who already have, thank you for your continued support! ^_^