Page 81 of Sunshine

My stomach clenches tighter. “Jason,” I whine. “You know I want to get out of Texas.”

“I know, I know.” He blows out a breath. “I just miss you, and I’d hate to lose the opportunity for us to be together after this year.”

We’ve had this conversation a dozen times. Sometimes I wonder if he assumes I’ll give in if he asks me enough, but it’s theonething I’m holding fast to, the one thing that ensures I’ll get to have experiences that are simply for me after I graduate in the spring. “I watched your game this morning,” I say, changing the subject.

“Well, I’d hope so!” He chuckles. “How’d I look?”

I roll my eyes, smiling. “Good, as always.”

“I miss you cheering for me from the sidelines.”

“Me too,” I admit. Friday nights aren’t the same here either, not without Jason on the field. I’ve loved cheerleading my entire life, but I’m ready to find new things to be passionate about. Thankfully, Texas A&M doesn’t have an official cheerleading team since it originated as an all-male military school. If they did, I know Jason would push extra hard for me to go there with him.

I hear Wells say something in the background, the low tone of his voice at once so familiar and yet foreign. I can’t hear what he says, but whatever it is prompts Jason to end our conversation. “All right babe, I gotta go get some things done over here. But I love you and I miss you—let’s talk again tomorrow, yeah?”

My eyes find the digital clock on my nightstand, and I wonder what kinds of things he needs to get done at eight o’clock on a Saturday night. I would bet money that he’s going to a party after the Aggies’ win this morning—I’m not sure why he wouldn’t just tell me. “Be safe,” I say back, and then the phone disconnects.

Letting out a quick exhale, I plug my phone into the charger on my nightstand and pull my camera from where it lies on my dresser. Settling back in bed against my pillows, I put in an old memory card from two years ago and scroll through pictures of Jason and Wells at the ranch, of Ghost and Champ and Lady in different corrals, even a handful of shots of little Lucky before he was adopted. My heart begins to ache as I lose myself in the memories of a much simpler time, when it felt like I had everything I could ever want.

I know deep down that if I’m not careful about my choices this year, I may lose any chance of feeling as free and confident as I did back then, as the girl who was headstrong and brave about the things she wanted for her life. I think about Regan’s words earlier and know she’s right, that my dreamsarejust as important as anyone else's. I just hope I don’t lose Jason in the process of finding my own way.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

NOW

Wells pulls into one of the few open spaces between Sheriff Joe’s patrol car and a black minivan that looks like it came right from a dealership. Dread coils uncomfortably against my ribs as I look around the full parking lot, at all the cars surrounding us.

“Doesn’t look like it’s a quiet night at June’s,” Wells murmurs, scanning the full lot.

“No,” I agree with a sigh.

He looks at me, resolute. I feel it like a calming balm, settling my nerves. “Layla, we can have dinner,” he says simply. His voice is low and patient with the smallest lilt of supplication. “We can go in there and sit in a booth together and enjoy a goddamn meal.”

I meet his earnest gaze, and I know he’s right. I try to muster some of the confidence that flooded through me when I faced Mom yesterday—but something about facing the whole town feels . . . bigger.

There’s a radical shift occurring here in the static between Wells and me, and though it electrifies my skin and bones and the tempo of my heartbeat, it’s not something anyone would see just from looking at us—not if we can maintain our composure. I’ve been inside June’s Cafe hundreds of times, and just because Jason’s dead it doesn’t mean Wells and I can’t share a dinner. Right?

I look back at the diner—the paint-chipped shutters and hanging red geraniums that sway in the evening breeze—and decide we might as well get this over with. It’s not like Wells and I have anywhere else to go besides the cabin, but I’m not ready to go there again—not yet. I know it’s also important that Wells doesn’t think my nerves have anything to do with a desire to hide him, when it’sreallyabout hiding myself.

Whore.

I’ve tried so hard not to let my mother’s words affect me, but they do. Facing her was a not-so-subtle reminder of the stifling haze that engulfs this town, of the people and the gossip and thejudgment. I’m not sure anyone would understand how the late Jason Moore’s perfect girlfriend could fall for his best friend—aBennettat that.

And I honestly don’t know what to do about it.

I wind my fingers through the ends of my hair, my foot tapping lightly against the mat.

“Look at me, Layla,” Wells says gently. And I do. “No one else matters.”

And I smile, because he’s right.Why do I care what anyone thinks?Wells matters more to me than I ever intended for him to, and the way I feel about him is bigger and louder than some dirty secret.

He deserves to be seen. To know how much he means to me. And I can’t let my mom’s insults get in the way of what makes me happy.

“No one else matters,” I repeat, my cheeks pulling wide. “Come on, let’s go eat.”

I walk close to him through the parking lot, my shoulder brushing against his. And when we get to the door of the diner, I reach to pull his hand in mine. His eyes flash to me, wide and surprised, and I love the way they hold and tell me I’m safe.

Inside, I ask Olivia for a table for two. She nods, grabbing two menus to take us to the only open table in the diner—right in the middle of the room—and halts when she sees our hands clasped together. Her gaze flies up, bounces between us, and then smiles at us in a way that feels real. “Follow me,” she says, grinning.

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