Ever After Awaits (Layla) novel Chapter 149

Chapter 149: Layla POV

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The sun hasn’t quite crested the skyline when my eyes flutter open on Monday morning, so my room is still swaddled in blue–grey shadows. And for once, there’s no jolt when I wake up. No lingering dream that’s pressing down on my chest. There’s just quiet. And peace.

Light filters in through the slatted blinds in hazy golden strips, catching in the weave of the sheets and warming the wall by my dresser. For a long moment, I just lay there. Still and listening to the creak of the house settling into a new day, to the faint rustle of the trees outside my window, and the distant buzz of someone’s alarm going off behind a closed door.

My body feels…different. Not weightless exactly, but no longer braced for an invisible blow. Maybe it’s the exhaustion from the lake, or the slow way yesterday’s ‘normalcy‘ wrapped around me like warmth. Or maybe—just maybe–it’s safety. Finally.

I slide out of bed, my bare feet touching down on the cool wooden floors, and pad softly down the stairs. The house is quiet, only dimly lit up by the early morning still–rising sun, and heavy with guys who are still asleep upstairs. The scent of sunscreen and lake water still lingers faintly near the front door, where our bags and rolled–up blankets sit slouched against the wall, like reminders of the joy we wrung out of the weekend.

In the kitchen, the early light slants through the window over the sink, painting streaks of pale yellow across the counter. I flick the kettle on and pull my favorite mug from the shelf–one of the few things I brought with me when I moved in. It’s chipped on the handle and faded from regular use, but the weight of it in my hand feels steady. Like a small anchor.

While the water boils, I rest my palms flat against the countertop and take a deep breath. In. Then out. And in again. The quiet around me is something sacred. And it’s not the sharp silence of loneliness, but a soft, living thing.

When the kettle clicks off, I pour the water into my mug to steep the peppermint tea bag, and curl my fingers tightly around it, letting its warmth bleed into my palms. Then I settle down at the dining table with my legs tucked up on the chair, and my back hunched over just slightly as I cradle the mug like it might hold me in return.

For a few quiet minutes, it’s just me and the warmth and the soft pulse of à morning that doesn’t demand anything of you until you’re ready.

Hunter appears first. He moves like someone still half–dreaming, his dark brown curls messy and his cheeks still flushed from sleep. He doesn’t speak right away. He just murmurs a low and raspy, “Mornin‘, Beautiful,” as he passes behind me. His hand brushes my shoulder, and he leans down to

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Chapter 149: Layla POV

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kiss my temple without hesitation, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Then, without being asked, he slides an apple over to me with a sleepy smirk before continuing to the fridge. And I can’t

help but smile into my tea.

A few minutes later, Cade stumbles down the stairs. He yawns so wide it makes my own jaw stretch in sympathy. He scratches the back of his neck, then pauses behind me, ruffling my hair like I’m his favorite golden retriever. “You’re lucky I like you, Sunshine. Otherwise, I’d steal your tea.”

“You don’t even drink tea,” I mutter, but the corners of my lips won’t flatten.

He grins, steals a bite out of my apple, and then drifts out of the room again.

Xavier is next. Sharp and purposeful as always, he’s already fully dressed and looking like he’s drafted at least three legal documents since sunrise. He doesn’t pause, and he doesn’t say anything. He just glides past the back of my chair and drags his knuckles from one shoulder to the other in a quiet, grounding touch that makes my breath catch, my shoulders drop, and my eyes flutter shut. Then he’s gone, as if he didn’t just reset my entire nervous system in one pass.

AJ enters last. He’s still barefoot and shirtless, rubbing absently at the scruff on his jaw, like he only just noticed it exists. He moves more slowly than usual, more contemplative, his eyes shadowed by sleep and something else. When he sees me, he stops and our eyes lock across the space.

Something pulses between us, and it’s quiet, heavy, and unspoken.

Then he nods, just once. “Morning, sweetheart,” he says, his voice low and rough–edged with sleep.

I nod back with a slight blush staining my cheeks, murmuring, “Morning.”

One by one, they disappear again. They go into their showers or rooms, or they take a phone call. The world is pulling them forward into their day. But I stay where I am, curled around the mug that’s gone lukewarm in my hands, because my classes start late today, and there’s no rush.

And because this–this rhythm–is something I’ve never had before. And it’s terrifying. To want something so badly. And to start believing you might actually be allowed to have it.

My fingers tighten around the mug as my gaze falls to the middle distance, unseeing. And then–out of nowhere–a name floats to the surface of my mind. Aunt Laura.

It’s been years. I haven’t seen her since I was a pre–teen, even since before my mother started slicing people out of our lives like they were overgrown tree branches. Aunt Laura is Dad’s younger sister. Kind and loud and full of stories. She used to braid my hair when Mom wasn’t around, and she’d

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Chapter 149: Layla POV

sneak me books with scribbled notes in the margins.

Then one day, she was just…gone. Not in the literal sense. But in the cut–off sense. Like she was a thread that got snipped clean off.

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I pick up my phone from the table, where it lies face down, and scroll through the contacts I haven’t touched in years. Her name is still there, untouched and dormant.

I hesitate. Is this still her number? Will she pick up? Will she want to talk to me?

Taking a deep, steadying breath, I press call. It rings once. Twice. Three times.

“Hello?” Her voice is exactly how I remember it–smooth at the edges, and warm in a way that makes my throat ache with emotion.

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