Page 11 of Unspoken Hearts
“All right, I get it,” Laynie cuts me off, holding up a hand.
Running my hands down my face, I grumble, “I just can’t think about this right now.”
She gives me a small pitying smile that rubs me the wrong way. “No more Lawson talk, then. What do you want for dinner? I still have some leftover lasagna I can reheat?”
“Sure,” I say with a small shrug, sipping on the hot honeyed latte she made for me.The honey just makes it so much better. “I’m easy going, you know me.”
I don’t miss the look of disbelief she gives me, making me snort a laugh.
“We’ll go back to mine when I am done.” Laynie drops the cloth in her hand to grab a container from underneath the bench. Opening the lid, there’s an assortment of biscuits stacked to the brim. “Hazel brought these over this morning.”
Smiling, I take a shortbread dipped in vanilla icing and enjoy it with my coffee as Laynie devours hers and keeps cleaning.
I end up helping her with the dishes and wrapping up the desserts for tomorrow in the display cabinet before we switch everything off and lock up. Laynie lives only a few streets away from Golden Hour, and with the evening sun still burning brightly, a slight sheen of sweat cakes my skin by the time we reach her place.
We pul into the driveway of a small, cottage-like house, decorated with timber railing and a grey tin roof. Blooming daisies, petunias and asters fill the garden with shades of purples, pinks, yellows and whites. It’s quaint and modest, and all she needs since her parents left to travel around the country in their caravan.
Pushing open the door, I follow behind her inside, the sweet consuming scent of vanilla and almond filling the place. I slip my boots off by the front door, before walking into the kitchen. Laynie wanders over to the fridge, grabbing out a tray wrapped in foil. My eyes sweep over the familiar, cosy house. It hasn’t change since the first time I came over. Family photos hang on the sage coloured walls, with beige coloured furniture consuming the living room and kitchen. Dust is already starting to settle on every surface.
“I’ll pop it in the oven. Should only be fifteen minutes.”
“Great.”
I feel something brush past my leg. Glancing down, I grin widely as her cat, Freddie, circles me—thick multicoloured fur and large green eyes—purring like a drum.
I pick him up and he curls into my arms as I pretend to rock him like a baby. “Hello to you, too.”
Laynie chuckles lightly. “He’s missed you, since I’ve been gone for a week.”
“I missed him, too.” I stroke his chin. “And that’s only because you had Mrs Davidson feeding him, otherwise I would have stayed here every day to do it.”
She turns to look at me, her pale eyes shimmering as an easy smile forms in her pink lips. “I know you would have, and maybe you should do that.”
“What?” I ask, frowning a little, wondering where she’s going with this.
Leaning her elbows onto the bench, Laynie fixes her eyes in me. My pulse jumps a little with the heaviness of her stare. “Why don’t you move in here with me?”
My shoulders slacken, and her face drops slightly. “L…” I drawl. “I would, but this is your parent’s place. I can’t just move in. What if they come home?”
“What if they don’t?” she counters, shrugging.
My teeth dig into my lip as I stubbornly shake my head. “Thank you for the offer, but I don’t think I can. Besides, Axel didn’t take all his things. What would I do with them? And what about if Aunt Lucy comes back?”
She scoffs lightly. Freddie jumps out of my arms onto the bench. “Your aunt hasn’t spoken to you in months. Do you really think she cares about the place?”
Her bitterness digs at my gut, making me blanch. Laynie and Grayson made their feelings about my aunt perfectly clear when she left, and it hurt to hear, but now I’m starting to feel the exact same way.
“It’s her place, though.” My frown deepens. I feel a little defeated.
“It might be her name still on the lease, but she’s not coming back, Macie,” Laynie says blatantly.
I exhale softly, crossing my arms over my stomach. I know she’s right. My aunt hasn’t so much as answered one of my hundreds of messages.
Why am I still anticipating her return?
My fingers play with the hem of my top, nerves vibrating through me as I dip my chin. “Let me think about it, okay?”
“Okay,” Laynie lets out, pushing off the bench to peer into the oven, leaving me with the gnawing sensation in my stomach I’ve grown too familiar with.
