“When did you learn how to play?” he asks as he climbs up onto the bed and faces me, mirroring my position by pulling his legs up in front of him.

I stare at his face for a few minutes, wondering if I have the courage to ask him what he’s doing with me. Finn’s words have gotten to me, even though I swore I wouldn’t let them. Is he really doing whatever this is with me out of misplaced guilt? Does he feel like if he solves this stalker case and I’m safe it will make up for all the bad things that have happened in his life? And what then? He just goes back to his life and I go back to mine?

I look down at my guitar and I can’t help but think about my father. I wonder if he felt guilty when he walked out the door nine years ago.

“My father taught me when I was little. We used to go down into the recording studio, just the two of us, every single day after school. It was my absolute favorite time of the day,” I quietly admit to Brady as I run the palm of my right hand down the top of the guitar, feeling all of the nicks and scratches from years of use, each one reminding me of happier times.

Placing my the fingers of my left hand on the proper frets, I strum my right hand down the strings, quickly moving my left hand as I play the notes for the song that has been in my head all evening. The fact that I stood on a stage in front of strangers and played when I’d done nothing but hold this guitar in my arms for almost ten years makes me feel almost invincible. The song I play now is an original; it’s the first time I’ve ever played one for anyone, and the fact that I’m fully opening myself up to Brady and not afraid to do so speaks volumes. I’ve never played a single note of one of my original songs on this guitar, no matter how many words I’ve written that I know would be perfect for it. Regardless of the confusion I’m feeling about Brady and his feelings for me, I still trust him. I trust him enough to show him this part of me.

Brady doesn’t speak as I open my mouth and let the words softly build while I play. It’s a song I wrote during one of the darkest times in my life, when I thought ending it all was the only option I had to be free. I close my eyes and let the music flow through me. I strum the guitar slowly, and my words match my playing as I gently sing about the story of my life.

I put everything I have into this song and show him who I really am. I want him to see me, I want him to hear me, and I want him to finally understand me. I’m opening up my heart and soul to him here on this bed, and part of me doesn’t care if he’s with me because he feels guilty. As long as he’s here, I’ll take what I can get.

I’m standing on the edge,

close to falling in.

I know I could just let go,

close my eyes and let them win.

If I take that step there’ll be nothing left

of who I used to be.

Do I let the darkness swallow me?

Do I let go and finally be free?

This pain leaves a scar that you cannot erase.

Only the darkness can take away my disgrace.

Everyone thinks I have it all together.

They look right through me,

and refuse to see the truth.

That it’s all just a great big mess,

and I’m so far from being blessed.

Do I let the darkness swallow me?

Do I let go and finally be free?

This pain leaves a scar that you cannot erase.

Only the darkness can take away my disgrace.

I’m surrounded by so many,

but I’ve never felt so alone.

It would be so easy,

to say goodbye and make my way home.

Do I let the darkness swallow me?

Do I let go and finally be free?

This pain leaves a scar that you cannot erase.

Only the darkness can take away my disgrace.

I close out the song with a few gentle strums, pressing my palm against the strings over the sound hole, swathing the room in sudden silence. I can hear my heart beating in my ears and the ticking of a clock on Brady’s nightstand. I slowly open my eyes and look directly into Brady’s as he sits completely still right in front of me.

He doesn’t say a word as I slide the guitar off of my lap and stand it upright next to the bed against the nightstand. Just like on the stage at June’s, playing my guitar gives me courage and strength I never knew I had. It makes me feel bold and in control, and now that I’ve played one of my songs for the first time, I have a mass of excess energy and excitement that I need to channel elsewhere.

Getting up on my knees, I crawl over to Brady and straddle his lap, letting my arms rest on his shoulders and my hands dangle loosely behind his head. He hesitates for a few seconds before wrapping his arms around my body and pulling me close, and I ignore the look of guilt that I see on his face for a split second before he turns it into a smile, tipping up one corner of his mouth in the way I love so much.

I love this man. I can’t keep pretending like I don’t.

“You are amazing, Layla,” Brady whispers as he looks at my face and brings his hand up to use the tips of his fingers to brush my bangs off of my forehead, moving his fingers down the side of my face to tuck my hair behind my ear.

He’s staring at me so intently. I can feel that he wants to say more, but he’s holding himself back. His brow furrows as he looks at me, and I’m so afraid I can barely breathe. I’m afraid of what he’s not saying, and I’m afraid of what he might say. I want him to tell me he feels the same way I do; I want him to reassure me that guilt has no part in his feelings for me. I want this man to always be a part of my life and to continue giving me the strength and courage I need to survive. I know we need to talk, and there’s so much we’ve left unsaid between us, but I can’t do it right now. Right now, I just want to feel. I just want to lose myself in him and not worry about anything else.

I lower my head and kiss him. I pour everything I am into that kiss and hope that he can feel it. I slide my fingers through his hair and hold his face against mine and hope he knows that he’s the only man I’ve ever given this much of myself to.

Without breaking the kiss, Brady moves his legs out from under me and pushes me back on the bed, gently resting his body on top of mine. The few times we’ve had sex, there’s been a kind of desperation to it that I loved, like we can’t get enough of each other, and it quickly explodes like a bomb as we crash into one another, giving and taking and pushing us both to our limits.

This time, we slowly undress each other, taking our time to touch and kiss and feel. When he finally rocks into me, it’s unhurried and with ease. He moves on top of me slowly, and he never takes his eyes off of my face as we leisurely move against one another. When my orgasm washes through me, it’s gentle and delicious and no less powerful than all of the other times, just less frantic. When Brady’s own release comes seconds after mine, he holds himself still inside of me, entwining the fingers of one of his hands with mine and holding it between us, against his heart.

He slides out of me without a word and moves behind me, pulling my back up against his front and wrapping his arms tightly around me. I lie there next to him, listening to the sounds of his breathing as they gradually slow until I can tell that he’s finally asleep. I can’t stop the tear that falls down my cheek, and I bury my face into the pillow so I don’t wake him.

I should be happy that what just happened between us wasn’t sex, it was making love. I could feel his love for me in every part of my body even if he didn’t voice the words.

So why am I not happy? Why do I feel like he was saying goodbye?

I wake up slowly to the sounds of people talking in the living room. Rolling over to reach for Brady, I feel nothing but cold sheets and realize the bed is empty. I push everything I’m feeling as far down as possible and get up out of bed, throwing on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt from my bag and running a brush through my short hair. When I leave the bedroom and walk into the living room, I see Finn, Brady, and Gwen standing around in the kitchen. Brady’s eyes quickly leave mine when I look at him questioningly, and I realize with a sinking feeling that the worries I had last night weren’t unfounded.

“Layla, good news!” Finn says excitedly as he rounds the kitchen table and walks up to me, pulling me into his arms. “They caught that Ray guy. They picked him up last night after they got an anonymous tip from the APB they put out. We have to get to the station as soon as possible so you can ID him.”

I try to catch Brady’s eyes over Finn’s shoulder, but he’s got his arms crossed in front of him, staring down at his shoes. I pull out of Finn’s embrace and take a step back, forcing my chin up and putting on a look of bravado that I don’t feel. This is a good thing. They caught the guy who’s been terrorizing me. He’s behind bars and this can finally be over. I can go home and things can go back to normal.

“That’s great. I’ll just go get my things and—”

“There’s no time,” Finn says quickly, cutting me off and grabbing my hand as he pulls me towards the door. “They want to book this guy as soon as possible, and they can’t do that without you. I’ll send someone for your things later.”

I let Finn pull me towards the door without a word, casting one last look behind me at Brady. Is he really going to just let me walk out of here without saying anything?

He finally looks up from the floor, but his eyes don’t meet mine. They’re somewhere over my shoulder.

“If you want, I could follow behind you. You know, if you have any questions about the process or anything…” Brady says quietly, trailing off at the end.

If I want? What about what YOU want? God dammit, say something to me!

“Thanks, but I think we’re okay. I can take care of Layla from here,” Finn tells Brady with a cocky smile.

I stand there for as long as I can, willing him to actually look me in the eyes. Have some fucking guts to tell me to my face that this is it, that last night really was his way of saying goodbye. Gwen stands off to the side, looking back and forth between us like someone at a tennis match, waiting for one of us to do something.

I turn away from both of them and start heading out the door Finn holds open, but then I stop in my tracks. Maybe I’m making a big deal out of this when he’s probably just acting like a typical guy and doesn’t know how to say what he wants. It’s not like I actually came out and told him how I felt. I showed him instead. I showed him a part of me that only my father ever saw or understood. I trusted him to see me, to know me.

I want to be strong and I want to be independent, so maybe I should start acting like it. Take what I want for once. Letting go of Finn’s hand, I hold up one finger, telling him to wait just a minute, and stalk back over to Brady who is now staring out the window.

“Just because I’m leaving and things are going back to normal, doesn’t mean anything has to change between us. You know that, right?” I say softly to his back as he continues to look outside. I see his shoulders tense, though, the only outward sign that he’s listening.

“I’ve spent too much of my life doing things I don’t want and being unhappy. You make me feel like I can do anything, be anyone. You wormed your way into my life and pissed me off a whole bunch, but now I can’t imagine spending a day without you. I know I started out as a job for you, but it’s more than that now. I know it is.”

His shoulders heave with a deep sigh, and he finally turns around to face me, the confidence and smile wilting on my face when I see his eyes. They’re cold and hard and they don’t meet mine directly.

“Look, sweetheart, we’re from two different worlds. You and I both know that. This thing between us, whatever it was, it was just a thing—a way to pass the time,” he tells me quietly so no one else can hear. “You’re safe now, the bad guy is behind bars, and my work here is finished.”

I press my hand to my stomach in an effort to keep myself together. Right now, it feels like my whole body is being ripped wide open and my heart and soul are spilling onto the floor at his feet.

“You don’t mean that. I know you, Brady. Why are you doing this?” I whisper angrily, my shaking voice giving away the torrent of emotions running through me.

“Sweetheart, you don’t know a damn thing about me. Just like that fiancé of yours, we were both paid by your mother to do a job. My job is done, so I’ll be collecting my paycheck and hittin’ the road. You better get going, your chariot awaits,” he says with a nod in Finn’s direction before turning away from me again, this time pulling his cell phone out of his pocket and punching some buttons like he’s sending a text.

Sending a damn text when he just broke my heart.

“You’re a coward, you know that? A fucking coward,” I tell him angrily and loudly, no longer caring that Gwen and Finn can hear me. Swiping angrily at the tears falling freely down my face, I turn and walk over to Gwen, pausing for a moment in front of her.

“Gwen, thank you so much for everything,” I tell the woman with a sad smile. She’s the first woman I really thought I could be friends with in long time. She's real and honest, and I had hoped to be able to have her in my life. That won’t be possible now. Not when her brother obviously wants nothing more to do with me now that the “job” is finished. He’s just going to stand there and let me walk out the door and out of his life, and there’s nothing else I can do about it.

Gwen rushes over and wraps her arms around me, squeezing me tight, and I have to struggle to swallow past the lump in my throat and not let myself sob into her shoulder.

“He’s being an ass. He loves you. I know he does. Just give him time,” she whispers in my ear before pulling away and mirroring my sad smile.