Layla - Colleen Hoover Page 0,61
in a body with a heart that could break and tears that could form. I didn’t feel all this when I watched it before. This sucks.” She drops down onto the bed and hugs Layla’s pillow. “I don’t like all these feelings.”
I point the remote at the TV and then hit the power button. The room grows dark. I set the remote on the nightstand and then lie down in the bed and pull the covers over me. Willow turns to face me, curling her hands beneath her cheek. “Patrick Swayze died, right? In real life?”
“Yeah.”
“You think he’s a real ghost now? You think he could be like me?”
“Maybe. But you’ve never left this property, so how can you know what else is out there? Who else is out there?”
She grins. “I’d leave this property for Patrick Swayze.”
“Maybe that’s what you need to do. Leave. Travel. Go see if there are others like you.”
“But it feels like I’m supposed to stay here.”
“Why?”
She shrugs. “I’ve just always felt that way. Surely there’s a reason I’m here, in this random house in the middle of nowhere.”
“Maybe you used to live here. Maybe you died here.”
She thinks on that for a moment. “It doesn’t feel like home, though. Not that anywhere could, I guess.”
“What if there was a way you could find out where you’re from? Who you are? Would you do it?”
Her eyebrows furrow. “What do you mean? Like hire a detective?”
“Something like that. I might know a guy.”
She laughs. “You know a guy?” She rolls her eyes as if that’s far fetched. But honestly, not much seems improbable to me anymore. She covers her mouth and yawns. “Layla’s really tired. She’ll have a hangover when she wakes up tomorrow.”
“Will I see you tomorrow night? I want to talk more about how I can help you find answers.”
Willow adjusts the pillow beneath her head. “I don’t really want help, Leeds. Every time you bring it up, it gives me a Dr. Kevorkian vibe.”
I laugh, confused. “What?”
“How would you feel if I told you that you should move on from your existence? It’s like encouraging me to commit suicide.”
Wow.
I roll onto my back, clasping my hands together over my chest. “I didn’t think about it from your point of view. I’m sorry I keep bringing it up.”
“It’s okay,” she says. “And I’m not saying I’m opposed to searching for answers someday. I’m just not sure I’m brave enough to take that step yet. For now, I just want to enjoy this last week of being able to hang out with you.”
I don’t look at her, but I can feel her staring at me. She enjoys hanging out with me. It’s not an inappropriate thing to say, but the reaction I have in my chest to those words might be bordering on inappropriate.
I don’t respond to her. It’s during the moments of silence between us when I feel the guiltiest.
Silence is where all the mistakes happen.
I roll over and close my eyes. “Good night, Willow.”
THE INTERVIEW
The man stops the recorder.
I tilt my head back, feeling uneasy about where this conversation is headed. I want to be honest with him, but the truth that’s about to come up doesn’t paint me in a good light.
Nothing else I say tonight will paint me in a good light.
“Do you have a restroom I can use?” he asks.
I point down the hallway. “Third door on your right.”
He gets up and leaves the room. I would go check on Layla, but it’s finally quiet upstairs. Hopefully it stays that way for a while. I open my laptop to see if Willow is in the room with us.
“Are you here?” I ask her.
I scoot the laptop over to an empty seat next to me, and she immediately types a response.
Yes.
“What do you think?”
I haven’t been down here for all of the conversation because I wanted Layla to fall asleep, so I don’t know what all you’ve told him, or what he’s suggested.
“I’ve told him almost everything, but all he’s done is listen so far.”
Almost everything? What have you left out?
I roll my head and then lower it to my arms. “I haven’t told him everything that happened the night Layla and I were shot.”
Leeds . . .
“I know. I’ll get to that. I just . . .”
The man walks back in the room, so I clamp my mouth shut and don’t finish my sentence. He eyes me carefully as he takes his seat at the table. “Were you just speaking