Page 88 of Layla

“This won’t work,” I say slowly, the truth of it sinking in slowly, my stomach dropping. “I never should have let it get this far.”

“What are you talking about?” Layla’s voice is sharp. Scared. I refuse to hurt her even more by dragging this out.

“I’m better alone.” A rush of exhaustion settles over me as I say the words. “It’s not right for me to fuck up someone else’s life along with mine.”

“You think you’re fucking up my life?” she asks, incredulous. “Do you have any idea how ridiculous that is?”

I shake my head. “You always teased me about being so controlled,” I mutter, my lips tugging up in a humorless smile. Fuck, she had no idea how tight I held that control. And there was a reason for it. To keep what had happened tonight from ever happening. But I hadn’t been able to stick to it. I’d been too weak. And I had hurt her because of my own failure.

“And don’t you see how much happier you’ve been since you let go of some of that control?”

“What I see, Layla, is that the asshole whose stalking you has been able to get close—way too fucking close—more than once because I let my guard down.”

“That’s not—”

“And then this.” I gesture at her arm, unable to look at those angry red marks again. “Me letting go of control got you hurt tonight. And next time it could be worse.” Itwouldbe worse. I was sure of that. And I’d be damned if I let it happen. “You should go back to bed.”

She stares at me like I’m speaking gibberish. “Fine,” she says. “Good idea. Let’s go lie down and get some rest and tomorrow—”

I hold up a hand. “I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“John.”

“I’m not going to hurt you, Layla. I refuse.” I rub a hand over my forehead, finally prepared to do the thing I should have done as soon as I started to have feelings for her. “Tomorrow I’ll call someone else from the team to come and stay with you until you need to be back in LA.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” she cries, some of that Layla attitude I love so much finally creeping back into her voice. “You’re going to leave me here? Because of a nightmare?”

“Because it’s what needs to be done.”

She shakes her head, incredulous. “And what happens when I go back to LA?”

I swallow hard. “I’ll make sure you have the best team in place to look after—”

“Hang on.” Just like that the fiery attitude is gone, replaced by something that sounds an awful lot like panic. “Are you saying…John, are you breaking up with me?”

I close my eyes. I don’t know if I’ve ever heard her sound quite like this. Hurt and betrayed and so fucking scared.

My fault. All my fault. And I’ll only make it worse the longer this goes on.

“I can’t be with you,” I say softly, unable to meet her eyes. Because I’m a coward. And because I’m weak as fuck. I have no confidence that I’ll be able to stick to my decision if I have to see that pain in her eyes.

“You’re just tired,” she says quickly. “Fine, sleep on the couch. Get some rest. Everything will look different tomorrow, I know it.”

I stand, slipping the blanket from my shoulders. “No, Layla. It won’t.”

I think she must be in shock because she’s still as I walk away from the table. I’ve made it halfway to the living room before she catches up with me. “You’re not doing this,” she says, her voice shaky as she grasps my arm. “Please, John.”

I know that she’ll never forgive herself if I let her beg so I gently peel her fingers from my arm. “It’s already done.”

“You won’t even look at me?”

Fuck. I don’t want to. I’m likely to crumble if I do. But I owe her this much at least. So, I brace myself and look down into beautiful, terrified eyes. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let this happen.”

“Aren’t you glad it happened?” she cries. “Aren’t you glad you were with me?”

Jesus, of course I am. It’s been the best few weeks in my pathetic life. But I can’t tell her that. “I’m so sorry.”

“John, Iloveyou!”