18. Ayla

18

AYLA

C lay’s voice pulls me from my thoughts…I hadn’t even realized how deeply I was thinking. “You seem lost in thought over there. Penny for your thoughts?” His tone is light, but there’s an undercurrent of genuine interest, like he truly wants to know what’s on my mind.

I hesitate, toying with my fork. Can I trust him with a piece of my story? The instinct to guard my heart is strong, but something in Clay’s open, honest face compels me to share.

“I was just thinking how nice and normal this is. Sitting down to a real meal together.” I take a deep breath. “Growing up, my family... we never did this. Never had family dinners or anything like that.”

Clay’s brow furrows, his surprise evident. “Really? That’s hard to imagine. My mom was big on family meals. Made it a priority every Sunday, no matter what.”

“That must’ve been nice,” I murmur, a wistful note in my voice. “I wish-”

The insistent buzz of my phone cuts me off. Frowning, I glance down at the screen lighting up beside my plate. My stomach drops as I see the missed calls and texts - all from Mom and Lila.

Cold dread trickles through me, dousing the warmth of moments before. My family, intruding on this pocket of peace I’ve found. Suddenly, it feels like the walls are closing in. I try to remember to breathe in and out and not let them take away from this moment.

With shaking hands, I quickly shut off my phone and shove it in my pocket. Out of sight, out of mind. I can’t deal with their drama right now.

I refocus on Clay, plastering on a smile I don’t quite feel. “Sorry about that. You were saying something about Sunday dinners?”

But even as Clay picks up the thread of our conversation, telling some sweet anecdote about his childhood, I’m only half-listening. My mind is a tangle of anxious thoughts, my earlier ease slipping away.

What could Mom and Lila want? Are they okay? Is he hurting them? Guilt claws at my throat. I should answer. I should find out what’s going on. But I can’t bear to step back into that world of pain and chaos. I know if I do, I’ll be guilt-tripped into coming home with false promises that sound good but I no longer can trust. Not when I’m just starting to find my footing.

Clay’s brow furrows with concern as he studies my face. “Is everything alright, Ayla? You seem...troubled.”

I hesitate, my instinct to deflect and hide my pain warring with the sudden, overwhelming desire to confide in him. There’s something about Clay’s steady presence, his kind eyes, that makes me want to let down my guard. To trust him with the jagged pieces of my heart. I’m on the edge. All I have to do is jump if I’m brave enough.

“It’s just...” I take a deep, shuddering breath. “My family situation is...complicated.”

Clay leans forward, his expression open and understanding. “I’m here to listen if you want to talk about it.”

Years of bottled-up emotions want to come out and I open my mouth to speak. The words pour out of me, a torrent of long-suppressed anguish. “My mom...she’s in an abusive relationship. Has been for years. I tried to get her to leave, but she always goes back to him.” My voice cracks, tears stinging my eyes. “I couldn’t take it anymore. Watching her suffer, living in fear. That’s why I left home.”

Clay’s hand twitches, as if he wants to reach out and comfort me, but he holds back. “Ayla, I’m so sorry. That must have been incredibly difficult.”

I nod, swiping at my damp cheeks. “It was. It is. But that’s not even the worst of it.” I stare down at my plate, shame and anger coiling in my gut. “My sister, Lila... betrayed me in the worst possible way. She slept with my boyfriend.”.

A heavy silence settles over the table. I risk a glance at Clay, bracing myself for judgment or pity. But all I see is compassion and shock. “That boyfriend of yours is an idiot for cheating on you.”

I shake my head. “There’s not a man in this world who doesn’t want my sister. She’s gorgeous.”

“I can’t imagine her being more gorgeous than you.”

My cheeks turn red. “You’d be surprised.”

“No. I wouldn’t.”

His words wrap around me like a warm embrace, soothing the ragged edges of my soul. For the first time in longer than I can remember, I feel seen. Understood. A weight lifts from my shoulders, the burden of secrecy and isolation easing with each shaky exhale.

“Thank you,” I whisper, my voice thick with emotion. “For listening. I’ve wanted to talk to someone for so long, but it never felt right.”

Clay smiles, a tender, reassuring curve of his lips. “You never have to thank me for doing something as simple as listening . I’m here for you, Ayla. Always.”

And in that moment, gazing into his earnest eyes, I almost believe him. Almost let myself hope that maybe, just maybe, I’ve finally found someone I can lean on. Someone who won’t let me down.

But the scars on my heart are deep, the lessons of the past carved into my very bones. Trust is a fragile thing, easily shattered. And as much as I long to surrender to the comfort of Clay’s steady presence, I know I can’t afford to let my guard down completely.

Not yet. Maybe not ever. Because, in the end, the only person I can truly rely on is myself. It’s a lonely truth but one I’ve learned to accept. To survive.

So I return Clay’s smile, letting his warmth seep into my aching soul, but I keep a small part of myself locked away. Hidden. Safe. A fortress around my battered heart, shielding it from further pain.

“How was your day? I hope work wasn’t too stressful without me and Piper.” I aim for a teasing tone, changing the topic.

Clay chuckles, the sound rich and warm. “It was fine. Productive, even. But I have to admit...” He takes a step closer, his eyes never leaving mine. “I missed having you around. Both of you.”

My heart stutters in my chest, a dizzying mix of longing and fear swirling through my veins. “Clay...” I whisper, my voice trembling. “I don’t... I can’t...” The words stick in my throat, tangled up in a web of uncertainty and self-doubt.

“I’m not your ex.”

I bite my bottom lip and swallow.

Clay’s gaze lingers on me, his eyes searching mine with an intensity that steals my breath. “What kind of man do you envision yourself with, Ayla?” His voice is low, almost intimate. “Someone who challenges you? Supports you? Makes you feel cherished and adored?”

I swallow hard, my heart pounding against my ribs. It’s a loaded question, one that demands an honest answer. And yet, as I meet Clay’s steady gaze, I find myself wanting to bare my soul to him. To share my deepest hopes and fears, my secret yearnings and hidden dreams.

“Someone kind,” I whisper, my voice barely audible over the roar of my own pulse. “Someone who sees me—really sees me—and accepts me for who I am. Flaws and all.” I pause, gathering my courage. “Someone who makes me feel safe. Valued. Loved.”

Clay nods slowly, his expression thoughtful. “You deserve that, Ayla. You deserve someone who will cherish you, protect you, love you unconditionally.” His hand twitches at his side, as if he’s fighting the urge to reach for me. “Someone who will stand by your side, no matter what life throws your way.”

Before I can respond, the front door slams open, startling us both. Kip strides into the room, his eyes lighting up as he spots me. “Hey, beautiful,” he greets me, planting a quick kiss on my cheek. “Something smells amazing in here. Mind making me a plate while I grab Piper?”

Why is he acting like we’re some kind of married couple?

That’s still better than trying to figure out where Clay was taking our conversation…

I force a smile, my mind still reeling from my conversation with Clay. “Sure thing,” I reply, my voice a little too bright. “Just give me a sec.”

As Kip scoops up Piper, cooing softly to her, I busy myself with preparing his meal. But even as I ladle pasta onto his plate, my thoughts are a tangled mess of confusion and longing. What am I doing? How do I feel about Clay?

It’s clear he has a crush on me.

With Kip settled at the table, I find myself gravitating back towards Clay, drawn to his calming presence like a moth to a flame. But as I sit down beside him, I can’t help but feel a pang of guilt. The memory of Teller’s lips on mine, the heat of his touch, the whispered promises we shared... it all comes rushing back, leaving me breathless and aching.

What would Clay do if he found out?