"Completely Understand," Leyla Said With A Hint Of A Laugh, "I've Got A Couple Of Those Myself." She

She still hadn't quite gotten used to running into Dr. Lane, and every time she half-expected him to yell 'hey, I know you from therapy!' Which was ridiculous because he was a professional as all her many therapists had been, and this only had to be weird if she made it weird. "The Autumn Spice is probably my favorite. The cinnamon, cloves, and nutmeg really make it taste like the holidays," she suggested, "but we're also doing a special for Creek Fest. It's a flight I've curated, it's just $5 and has that one, our Pumpkin Pie, Apple Cider Mule, and Ginger Pear mocktails. And we're actually donating those proceeds to Harmony Healers this week."

WHO: Josh & @leyla-tehrani

WHERE: Creek Fest

WHEN: September, 2023

"So, what do you recommend?" Josh asked as he looked over the menu, eyes scanning the drinks. Not much of an alcohol guy, Josh had to admit that he was pretty excited to see the Mawk Tales set-up, liking the idea of having something booze-free to drink, but still feel fancy about. Other than the eighteen million hot apple ciders he planned on drinking that week, on top of the hot chocolate, coffee and tea, since they were bound to find their way to him, too. "Honestly all of them sound good, I'm not sure where to start!"

Leyla agreed, offering a smile, "that's the worst, right? When you just want to enjoy a night out and someone plastered decides that's a good time to bug you." It truly was a beautiful place, and she really couldn't imagine having her business anywhere else now.

"I do," she replied, keeping her answer short and truth close to the chest. As with most of her truths. But the idea of getting to work with kids and offer them positive experiences was very appealing to her. "Physical therapy? I can see how those sort of correlate in some cases. Have you always been an animal lover? I feel like you sort of have to be to volunteer at a place like this."

Livvy nodded her head with understanding as Leyla explained her reasoning for anting to open the business, knowing that it made complete sense. "Sometimes when I want to go out after work, I don't want to worry about being hit on by someone who's been drinking all night, or deciding who wants to be the designated driver," which was always a challenge, one that no one wanted to take on, most of the time. "Besides, you have some really gorgeous views, which makes it all the better." Getting to kick back and relax with friends, have a drink, admire the views? Perfect evening activity.

"Oh!" she brightened instantly at the mention of a similar program, "then you have a basic understanding of how everything works. And how great it can be, too," not that she needed to sell it to anyone; once they spent an afternoon around laughing, smiling kids, they normally caught on to how important it was to them. "I'm a physical therapist, so when the mother of a patient mentioned her daughter getting involved in the program, I asked if I could tag along. Things sort of went from there."

Giving him a little nod that he had it right, Leyla offered a little smile with the finished result. It was already making their home feel cozier, which wasn't something she was used to...but she was getting there. She'd never experienced home in this way before, and it was foreign but warm. The ice around her seemed to melt in this space, as strange as that sounded. Placing the sheet of seeds into the oven as instructed, she listened as he talked a bit about his childhood. It sounded a bit like a movie or 60's TV show. She could just imagine a tinier Dare running around with his siblings and a warm-hearted mother figure gathering them up for holiday festivities. "It felt very much like you," she mused, "what are some other traditions from your mom?"

Seeing her gesture, Darrius stepped the tiniest bit to the side, glancing back up to see if he had it right, and then carefully securied it where it needed to be, stepping back to admire his handy work. Sure, it was a simple garland. Yes, it was probably laughable to most people who went all out for Halloween. But to Darrius, who liked the pumpkins and leaves and corn stalks and watching Casper and Hocus Pocus and The Great Pumpkin… it made him feel good. Turning back to the kitchen, he looked at the seeds that she spread out, and nodded his head, "looks great! I already set the oven, so we should just be able to pop 'em in and let them do their thing," and then they would have a tasty snack when their other housemates arrived home. "I do! My mom taught me how, she'd always make me and my siblings save our pumpkin guts just so we could make these."

"Well, I was born in Canada, but spent a lot of years down in New York. Made some of my best and worst decisions there as one does. Spent a summer in Iran and a year in Paris. So this is very very new. I'm used to busy and 'hey watch where you're going'" She mimicked the last part in her best attempt at a New York accent. "It's an amazing location for those exact reasons. I had worried a bit about the bars in the area, but when you're close to the coast, something refreshing can compete a bit with something that will ultimately be dehydrating." She nodded, "good. It's a standing offer whenever you want it. Have you ever gone anywhere or are you a lifelong Merrock..ian? Merrockite?"

"Where have you lived before?" Rafael asked, genuinely curious. It wasn't as though he expected everyone he talked with to have lived in one tiny town only to come to another, but he found it interesting to hear about how they came to be in Merrock, none the less. How different it was from where they called home. "I was going to say, if you're set up on the coast, you're set up well, because you can't go wrong with the views. And I can imagine when people just want the chance to kick back, relax, have a drink, it's great for that." When she offered a drink on her, he grinned, "I might just have to take you up on that."

Leyla usually tried to keep her looking back to therapy sessions, especially to that time, this man. However, looking directly at him made that part hard to ignore. If she was supposed to feel any relief he was still alive, it was jumbled up in all the other emotions she was rapidly trying to process. Fury was winning out as she stared at her own personal nightmare.

She waited for an explanation, one she hoped would be just stumbling through, not here to hurt kind, trusting people. None was offered as he looked at her like he was just struck dumb. "Yes, I do," she snipped, "I finally started my own business. It's called Mawk Tales, it's here on the coast." Part of her still told him like she hoped he'd be proud, but if he actually said that, she might lose her shit in front of all of these people. "What are you doing here? These people still trust--at least most of them seem to, and you and I both know that you are not built to hold anyone's trust."

Vitus had lost the borders of his twenties to a head-fogged downward spiral, crafted by his parents and accelerated by his own hand. Without structure, his memories had buckled and bent inward toward each other. Some had collapsed entirely. He'd carried the pieces with him ever since. And now, up from the rubble of those years, Leyla rose like pinpoint-sharp debris, resurrected. She brought the same blaze with which she'd bitten him during those last few conversations they had. Her rage had followed him cross-country back then, bleeding across the width of the States. Before his eyes had even finished clearing, his skin began to itch. With flame, with scar tissue, with memory.

She looked the same. No, she looked better, healthier, than he recalled. Even as decade-old remorse slammed him sideways, squeezing all the breath from his lungs at once, he couldn't help but feel a touch of relief at that. Despite everything, she'd made it to her thirties. So many other loved ones from back then hadn't. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came right away, so he closed it again. Another few blinks, like he couldn't be sure she was real. And then, stupidly, quietly, "Leyla? What are you—What? You live here now?"

"Maybe a bit of a variety. Like an 80's, 90's and today sort of experience?" She suggested, thinking then everyone would experience some songs that they liked. Setting the flight down in front of him, she listed them off, "blackberry, strawberry basil, blue lagoon, watermelon lime." She then laughed as she addressed his previous statement, "I'm more than fine with no country."

"That's gonna be based on who you asked. I say, your business, you set the vibe." Alec could make just about anything work, as long as it only required his voice and a guitar, it would work. "Just no country, we already have a western bar in town."

She wanted more for him, same as she wanted from him. It was six months ten years ago, and she could still remember every bit of it. If she let it, her mind would trick her into believing he was safe again. That was the thing about Vitus, though. She would push him, say things that would piss off any other person, and he'd only acknowledge it in his own quiet, self-destructive way. Sometimes, she almost wished he wasn't sorry because it would make the truth so much easier to bear.

But he was. It just didn't take it away: the pain, the anger, the feeling that if she'd been somebody else it wouldn't have happened. She wasn't the first, though, and by the looks of his face, not the last. He left a wake behind him, and that's what she fought against. It's why she couldn't forgive him. "So you've already done your damage, haven't you?" She asked, venom draining momentarily from her words. She almost wanted the anger back, then she wouldn't feel so...sad.

Once upon a time, he'd have held her when she felt this way and all the broken pieces would have just slid right back into place. Like a puzzle. But that's all it was...a Once Upon a Time, a fairytale, a happily ever after that never gets finished. The book just closes on all the unanswered questions. "Yeah," she muttered, "it's a safe place. The kind of place I wanted growing up--the kind of place we would have benefitted from. Where people are kind, know you, accept you...it's warm." It wasn't a reflection of her, thank goodness, but it was the dream. It was the little girl she'd been once. It was for her.

How did he do that? Even when she hated him, she told him things. "Listen, I know I said some things last we talked that I--I shouldn't have said," in the closest thing to an apology he would get, "but you broke me. Do you know what it's like to go to bed one night the happiest you've ever been in your life and the next day, it's...gone? Trust doesn't grow back the same when it's ripped from you, the innocent, naive belief that the person who loves you can't possibly hurt you--would be absolutely incapable of it--it doesn't come back. And whether I get hit by a bus tomorrow or live past 100, I think I'll hate you forever for that. For saying you loved me and all the ways that wasn't enough--for making me believe that meant I wasn't enough."

He'd lost entire days with Leyla, but he hadn't lost her. He remembered small details, and they came into sharper focus the more she talked, reaching with her voice to tug them loose. Details like her father's name, Rahim; her birthday, late May; the roses he had woken her with the morning she turned twenty-four. Vitus rubbed his sternum while she spoke, like he could still feel her after all these years.

And she could still feel him too, it seemed, because she turned the last sentence into a projectile and struck him right across the face with it. A wince tangled his expression.

"I'm..." Sorry. But he'd already said that, so many times, and she'd never wanted to hear it. He couldn't ease Leyla's pain like he used to, but he could give her the truth, at least: "I moved last August. Been here a full year now. I—" Cheated on my girlfriend and lost her and needed a change of scenery. Another blink, at that, as he realized what he was about to say. Ten years, during which time she'd opened that business she always wanted for herself, and what had he done meanwhile? The very same thing that had destroyed their relationship. Even after arriving here for his fresh start, he'd broken multiple people's trust. Her reminder of that lodged itself in his throat, clawing down into his ribcage, until all he could do was laugh incredulously at himself. Or try to, at least. The sound grabbed his guilt on its way out and morphed into something painful. "God. Fuck."

He forced his eyes to stay on her, lest he run again. She really did look the same—that same strong nose he'd once admired, the same hands he'd once held between his own. A few bits of tenderness, aching and bruised, pushed through to the surface. "That's... really good. That you opened your own place."