8. Layla

Why was that douchebag so hot?

Why did he seem so familiar to me too?

I don't like how that felt. I wanted to jump into his arms and kiss him immediately and… I couldn't.

I've never had a flash like that before and it really messed with me.

Maybe it's because he said his name was Brock and Eric and I had just talked about him and how I'd met him.

Yeah, that's probably it.

I walk down the street to the Cut Loose salon. I'm working with them to rebrand themselves as more than a shop that handles elderly clientele. They want to be known for the entire spa experience they offer.

I"m deep in conversation with Lula, the owner, discussing strategies and solutions for her upcoming marketing campaign. We"re making progress, brainstorming ideas, and bouncing them off each other with a sense of excitement and anticipation.

The door swings open, and my ex, Randy, is standing there, a bouquet of roses in his hand. The women in the shop let out a collective gasp, their eyes widening with excitement as they took in the romantic gesture.

"Randy!" I exclaim, my voice tinged with surprise and uncertainty. "Shouldn't you be in court?"

Randy is a lawyer here in town. He had told me yesterday that he had a very big case he was taking to trial today, a man being charged for three murders. He shouldn't be standing in the salon right now.

He steps into the room, a hopeful smile on his face as he approaches me. "Hey, Layla," he says softly, holding out the bouquet. "These are for you. The prosecuting attorney's star witness went ghost so the judge pushed it out until next month."

I glance down at the roses, their vibrant colors and delicate petals a stark contrast to the chaos of my desk. It"s a sweet gesture, one that would have melted my heart a few months ago. But now, it just feels dirty.

"Thank you, they"re beautiful."

"Flowers don't fix fuck ups," Lula interjects as she glares at Randy.

I stifle a laugh as he rolls his eyes at her.

"I miss you, Layla," he says earnestly. "I miss us. I know things haven"t been easy lately, but I still believe we can work through this. I love you."

I feel a pang of guilt at his words, a longing for the way I wanted things to be between us. But I know deep down that it"s not that simple, that there are wounds that run too deep to heal with a bouquet of roses.

It's not even the wounds. It's the fact that Randy has never been able to meet my needs, but every time I voiced that he'd guilt trip me and promise to change.

He never did.

"I appreciate the gesture," I say gently, setting the flowers aside. "But it"s not going to change anything. We"ve been through this before."

Randy"s shoulders slump in disappointment, but he doesn"t give up that easily. "I know I messed up. I know I hurt you, and I"m sorry. I shouldn't have been talking to that other woman. But I"m willing to do whatever it takes to make things right. I just want us to go back to the way we were."

"Randy, you weren't just talking to her you were going to her house at night and sleeping with her."

"I wasn't."

"I have pictures from her," I mumble. "Not just that, Randy. I've been contacted by other women saying that you're not faithful."

"I messed up."

"That's an understatement," Lula cracks.

I sigh, running a hand through my hair as I struggle to find the right words. "It"s not about you, Randy," I say softly. "It"s about me. I still need to figure some things out, to find myself again. I can"t keep pretending that everything"s okay when it"s not."

"I get it. I do. And I want to support you, however I can. Just know that I"ll always be here for you, no matter what."

"Thank you, Randy," I say, mustering a small smile. "I appreciate that."

He nods in return, his gaze lingering on me for a moment longer before he turns to leave.

Is he waiting for me to change my mind?

As the door closes behind him, I let out a shaky breath, the weight of our conversation hanging heavy in the air.

"Are you okay?" Lula asks.

I nod and blow out a long breath. "It was the right thing to do. There's just something missing."

"You deserve better, he wasn't treating you the way you deserve to be treated."

"Maybe that's it. You know I went through my journal a month or so ago and saw where I had talked about him cheating on me when we were in high school and college and… after that, I couldn't shake the thoughts."

"Understandable. You two never talked about why you broke up in the first place."

"No, he said he didn't want to give me my memories back. I should have realized that was a red flag."

"Ahhh, those red flags they're so enticing to charge at," she jokes.

I giggle and nod. "So enticing."

"Are you coming to wine night tonight?" Lula asks.

I hesitate. It's a sweet gesture but I'd rather be at home with Breckin, away from people.

"I don't know, I have a lot…"

"Let me rephrase that, you're coming to wine night tonight. I'll pick you up and throw you in my car if I have to."

"Fine," I giggle. "I'll be there."

"You won't regret it."

Hey, do you know Brock Bowen?"

"Brock? No, it doesn't seem familiar."

"Isn't that the name of the hot hockey player that I saw back in town?" Sadie, one of the stylists interjected.

"Ohhhh, yeah. He plays for the Predators. He hasn't been back to Stetson Falls in ages. I forgot all about him. Why?"

"I ran into him today. He said my name and I totally snapped at him because I didn't remember him."

"Well, that's understandable."

"He just seemed so familiar."

"I'm sure he played with Eric, did you ask him?"

"Eric told me about him. I didn't know if you had insight on him. My brother isn't good about that sort of thing. Heaven forbid I ask about a guy and he goes into protective mode. I was also so thrown off by the run-in that I've been stuck in my head."

She squeezes my arm. "Don't let it get to you."

"Oh shoot, what time is it?" I ask as I look around for my phone.

"Late," she laughs. "You probably need to get to the rink, huh?"

"Yes," I smile. "Breckin is so excited that Uncle Eric is helping with practice tonight."

"It's the talk of the town. All the kids are excited."

"I will see you tomorrow."

I grab my things and hurry out of the building. I let out a long exhale as I climb in the car and make my way to the ice rink to meet up with Eric and Breckin.

I am so grateful for the ways in which my brother has stepped up for Breckin. It's not an ideal situation that I don't remember who his father is, but Eric has always made sure Breckin hasn't lacked a father figure. My dad is pretty great in that area too.

The cold air nips at my cheeks as I step into the ice rink. The sound of skates scraping against the ice fills the air, mingling with the excited chatter of parents and the occasional burst of laughter from the players on the ice. It"s a familiar scene, one that I"ve grown accustomed to over the years as I"ve watched Breckin grow from a timid beginner to a confident skater.

I make my way to the edge of the rink, scanning the crowd for a glimpse of my son"s familiar blond hair and infectious smile. And that"s when I see him.

He"s standing near the boards, a vision of masculinity in his hockey gear, his brown hair tousled and his blue eyes sparkling with intensity. He"s talking animatedly with my brother, his laughter ringing out across the rink like music to my ears. He"s gorgeous, in a rugged, effortless sort of way, and my heart skips a beat as our eyes meet across the crowded ice.

It's the man from the coffee shop.

I tear my gaze away from him, feeling a flush of embarrassment creep into my cheeks. I shouldn"t be staring like that, especially not in front of Breckin. But there"s something about him, something magnetic and irresistible that draws me in despite my better judgment.

Just then, I hear a familiar voice yelling Mommy, and I turn to see Breckin running towards me, his face lit up with excitement.

"Mommy!" he shouts, throwing himself into my arms.

I catch him easily, swinging him up into the air and spinning him around in a circle. "Hey there, buddy," I say, planting a kiss on his cheek. "How was practice?"

"It was awesome!" Breckin exclaims, bouncing in my arms. "I scored two goals!"

I laugh, ruffling his hair affectionately. "That"s my boy. I knew you could do it."

As I set him down and he rushes off to join his teammates, I steal another glance at the hot guy by the boards. He"s still watching me, his gaze intense and unwavering, and I feel a flutter of butterflies in my stomach at the thought of him looking at me like that.

Before I can dwell on it any longer, Eric appears at my side, a wide grin on his face. "Hey, Layla," he says cheerfully. "Looks like Breckin had a good practice today."

"Yeah, he did," I reply, tearing my gaze away from the hot guy to focus on Eric. "Thanks for helping out with the team, by the way. It means a lot to me."

"No problem. Anything for my favorite little hockey star."

Just then, the hot guy approaches us, his eyes fixed on me with a mixture of curiosity and something else I can"t quite place. Eric turns to introduce him.

"Hey sis, this is Brock. We were roommates in college."

"The guy you played against in the championship a few weeks ago."

"That's the one."

"Mommy," Breckin says as he tugs on my hand. "Mr. Brock plays professional hockey too, like Uncle Eric."

"So I heard, that's pretty cool that you had two hockey stars at practice."

"Lucky kids," Eric laughs.

"Thanks for showing up to the practice, it means a lot to the kids," I say as I gaze up at Brock.

His face is white as a ghost as he looks in between me and Breckin. My stomach flips and I feel off.

"It's nice to meet you," he says as he extends his hand.

I take his hand automatically, feeling a jolt of electricity shoot through me at the contact. "Nice to meet you too, Brock."

There"s a moment of awkward silence as we stand there, our hands still clasped together, neither of us quite sure what to say next. Eric watches us with a bemused expression, clearly enjoying the drama unfolding before him.

Finally, Brock clears his throat, breaking the tension. "So, uh... Breckin is your son?"

I glance over at Breckin, who"s busy chatting with his friends, oblivious to the awkward encounter unfolding nearby. "Yes, he's mine," I reply with a smile.

"How old is he?"

"Just turned five not long ago."

"Oh," he nods slowly as he's silent for a moment. "Are you married?"

"No," I reply as I narrow my eyes.

What a weird question.

I notice my brother giving him a weird look too.

"I'm sorry that was awkward," he chuckles. "I wanted to ask you on a date, and I didn't want to do that if you were married."

"Bro," Eric groans. "You cannot ask my sister on a date."

"Eric! I am an adult and can answer on my own."

"You can't date my friends, that's weird. Besides, in a few months, he'll be going back to Nashville. That's not going to work."

"You're right," he murmurs as he blows out a breath. "I'm trying to get back to Boston though."

"You are?" Eric asks excitedly. "You and I would be on the same team again? That would be amazing."

"I think I'm ready to come home and settle down here close to family."

"Did you finally pop the question to Tierney?"

Tierney? Why does the sound of another woman's name make me want to fight someone?

"No," he laughs. "I ended things with her months ago. She and my mom would have loved for me to pop the question. I wasn't feeling it."

"Man, you really need to get over the girl who broke your heart senior year of college."

Brock's eyes flit to mine for some reason.

"I thought I had."