“The fuck you will, motherfucker. The. Fuck. You. Will.” Voice low, threat apparent, I clench my free hand into a tight fist, ready to lay him out. “Chloe is off-limits, you hear me? Not just no, but hell no. Fuck no. No.” I step in closer, ready to tear him limb from limb for talking about Chloe that way. Ready to murder the heartless bastard for daring to even think about touching her. “Do you fucking hear me?” I demand, glowering.
And Chance smiles. He takes a step back, putting some separation between us, and nods. His slicked-back hair doesn’tmove from the motion. “Loud and clear, my friend. Loud and fucking clear.” He slaps the front of my shoulder as he passes, hard enough to push me out of his way. “Get your shit sorted and get back to work, man. I’m tired of covering for your ass.”
Chance walks out the door, and I’m left rooted to my spot, beer in hand, wondering when the fuck he became the responsible one.
No sooner has the door slammed shut behind him than a quick, loud rap sounds against it. At least it feels like it happens in quick succession. I seriously have no sense of time right now. I could have been standing here for a minute or twenty, but by the chill on the beer can still clasped in my hand, it couldn’t have been all that long. Fucker probably decided to come back for a drink after all.
I swing the door open without even looking and turn to stumble back to the couch. My moment of sobriety fueled by anger has passed. I just want to sink into my shitty couch and drink myself to sleep.
“Forget something, asshat?” I say, my eyes already closing.
I should put my half-empty beer down before it falls out of my hand, but I don’t. I’ll just clean up the mess in the morning. Or not. Who gives a shit?
The can slips a little, my grip going lax as my body gets heavy with sleep.
“The fuck you want, Tin Man?” I mumble, not even sure Chance is still here.
The door softly clicks shut.
“Miles?”
I peel my eyes open because either Chance’s balls are in a vise or it’s not him in my apartment. That voice is too high. Too sweet. Too… tooChloe.
“What’re you doing here?” I try to push myself up to sitting, but it takes some serious concentration before I can make ithappen. “How’d you… You’ve never…” I rub a hand down my face, trying to clear my head and figure out how she knew which apartment was mine. We spent all our time at her house, the beach, but not here.
“Erin. I had an idea of where it was, but I begged her for the number, so I wouldn’t knock on the wrong door.” She takes a tentative step in and looks around at my sparse furnishings. Her gaze bounces around, taking in the nothingness of my apartment. Couch. TV. Coffee table. It looks more like a long-term efficiency rental than the place someone’s lived in for almost a year.
I let her look though. Because while she’s focused elsewhere, I get to focus on her. The black hair tumbling down her back, free from its binds for a rare moment. Her sparking blue eyes, clear, concerned. The pout of her pink lips pulled down at the corners. She’s fresh-faced and beautiful. I stare at her for as long as possible, memorizing all the tiny details that I’ve missed.
Her gaze swings back to meet mine, and after a beat, I look away.
“We had an agreement,” Chloe says, taking the few steps to the end of the couch. She lowers herself to perch on the edge of the cushion by my feet, the shitty excuse for leather squeaking as she sits. “You broke it.”
Jesus, fuck, going right for the kill, isn’t she?
“I guess I did.” I let my head sink into the cushion behind me and close my eyes. It’s easier to let her go, to push her away, if I don’t have to see her.
“It goes against the rules.”
My mouth twists. “What?”
“You take the time to coach a bunch of boys in a stupidly violent-looking game. You hold them to a standard and teach them what it means to be a gentleman. To keep their word, berespectful, make eye contact.” She pauses, waiting for me to do just that but I don’t. I can’t. “And then you ignore it all yourself.”
There’s nothing I can say. I can’t dispute any of what she said.
“Will you talk to me, please? Look at me, Miles. Just look at me and tell me what happened. What changed so drastically with us?”
How can I explain it to her? How do I tell her that I thought I had everything and lost it? Only to find it again in her and Jake—a family. One I almost lost and then begged, pleaded for, so I could have the honor of keeping them, all based on the promise that there would be no secrets. And I’ve been keeping a big fucking secret I can’t even deal with.
Her head dips forward, and she gathers her hair, twisting it into a braid over one shoulder, like she did so many months ago on Erin and Blake’s deck. Silence stretches between us, layering itself on top of tension and secrets and lies of omission. I’m stubborn. Angry. Barely functioning. But for the life of me, I know I can’t look her in the eye, see the sadness there.
“I know it’s big, whatever happened. I know it’s bad. But more than anything I know that I want to help you. That I don’t want to lose you.
“Erin only gave me your apartment number. Jack—Dallas’s best friend—he knows but isn’t sharing. God, you have so many people who love you, who want to help, who want to support you and heal you and help you find a way to put yourself back together. I love you, Miles. I never thought I’d feel that again after losing Dallas. Never for a minute thought I’d find someone who could fill the hole he left in my life.”
She reaches out, placing her delicate hand on mine, and I flinch. I fucking flinch, and she pulls away, which is stupid because every cell in my body is reaching for her, yearning forher. I want to wrap myself up in her. Let her be the binds that hold me together.
I dare to take a glance at her. A shaky sigh deflates her shoulders, curling them inward. With a nod, Chloe reaches into her bra and pulls out a folded stack of bills. Clasped in her lap, she briefly fiddles with them and then places them on the coffee table. Then, Chloe stands and walks to the door.
