As soon as she drops Bryan off at the airport, she immediately heads for Tim's house. There's not even a moment of hesitation. Sure, she feels guilty. Horrible. But it doesn't stop her. She hasn't seen him since that night. Hasn't spoken to him. Has gone out of her way to avoid her father's bar, every other bar, the diner - anywhere, just anywhere she might possibly run into him. But now Bryan is gone and she can . . . can what? See him? Talk with him? Sleep with him?

And then of course, there's the question she doesn't even want to think about. What's next? When Bryan returns? When they move to Austin? She shakes her head as if to ward off her own thoughts.

When she shows up at his place, she realizes that she has no idea if he'll actually be there or not. It's Friday afternoon. Why would he be home?

He's not. Lyla sighs. She sits down on the front steps and looks around, watching the trees sway in the breeze. She doesn't know how long she stays there, just listening to the breeze. And the birds. It's so far from everything - from the highway and the cars and the diners and the people. It's pretty perfect, actually.

Finally, Lyla rises. She brushes the dirt off of her pants and wanders around the porch - it's a beautiful wrap-around porch with soaring views of his property. This land. Dillon. It's everything Tim ever wanted. She smiles sadly. This is Tim's dream.

She shouldn't be here. She can only mess this up - mess up his life, mess up hers. She doesn't belong here anymore. Lyla takes a last look at the house and turns to go.

When Tim pulls up - his truck kicking up dirt and dust as he comes to a stop in front of the house - she's still there. She freezes, watching him climb out of the truck, with a duffel bag. He's wearing gym shorts and a gray tee shirt that strains across his chest, showing off his sturdy build. He has a slight smile on his face.

"Hi," he says.

"Hi," she replies. "I was - I came by - but I was -"

"Leaving," he finishes for her.

"Yeah," she nods.

"Don't," he says. He slams his truck door shut.

She nods. She can't say a word. She lets him guide her back up to the front door, into the house. He closes the door behind her, tossing his duffel bag onto the floor. "Practice," he says.

Lyla looks confused.

"Summer workout - voluntary," he explains.

"I don't remember any summer workouts," Lyla cocks her head to the side.

"That's because I never went to them," Tim grins and flops down next to her.

Lyla laughs. "Right."

"So," Tim looks at her. "Is Bryan gone?"

Lyla nods.

"And you're . . . here."

Lyla nods again. "I - I don't even know why. I just - when I - I just wanted to see you."

"I'm glad you did," Tim replies.

"Your house. It's beautiful."

"Thank you," Tim says. He watches Lyla. Carefully. He can't read her expression.

"I - I'm, uh," Lyla looks down at her hands, "I'm happy for you, Tim."

They sit in silence for a minute.

Finally, Tim speaks. Slowly. Choosing his words carefully. "I meant what I said to you last weekend, Garrity."

"I know."

They're silent for another minute.

"Are we just gonna . . . pretend that you don't have a boyfriend for another month here?" Tim finally asks. "Until you leave again?"

"I don't know," Lyla shakes her head. She looks at Tim. "Honestly. I don't know."

Tim sighs. He puts his arms around her. He wants not to do this. Wants to be strong enough to tell her that she has to choose. Bryan and Austin. Or this. Him. Them. Right here. He can't. He's kissing her and she's kissing him back and, right now, that's all that matters.