Not Sorry

by Ella Miles

  “Miss, the ride’s thirty-four fifty.” I open my eyes to look at the cab driver, not my therapist, sitting in front of me. He wears an annoyed expression as he waits for me to hand him his money. I’m still visibly shaking from my attack, but at least I’m breathing. I dig a shaky, sweaty hand into my purse and pull out two twenties. I awkwardly climb out of the cab with my two plastic bags of groceries, purse, and crutches in hand. The cab speeds off the second I close the door; the driver doesn’t bother to help me into the building.

  “Asshole,” I mumble under my breath.

  I look up at the towering building in front of me. Afternoon light bounces off its shiny, modern surface making me squint. Floor-to-ceiling windows cover every surface and make it look more like an office building. If it weren’t for the balconies protruding from the sides, nobody would know that people live behind its icy façade. I sigh at the daunting task before me. I have to make it through the lobby, to the elevator, and up to my eighth-floor condo before I can collapse on my bed.

  I take a deep breath of calm, salty, ocean air before I move my crutches forward, swing my body through, and land on my left leg. I repeat the process several times before I make it to the doors of my condo building. Each step I take is agony. I’m already sweating profusely from just the first five steps. I’d prefer to just pass out on the cold marble floor in the lobby, rather than take the next hundred steps to my unit. I open the door and move through as quickly as possible, but the door swings shut and catches my right crutch. I tumble onto my ass for the fifth time this week.

  Shit! When will I learn? I lie on the cool floor for several seconds, not moving. At least I got my wish. If it weren’t for the large windows surrounding me, the light almost blinding as it bounces off the large chandelier above me, taunting me with its beauty that I no longer possess, it would be so easy to just fall asleep right here on the cold floor. I look to my left. Most of my groceries have rolled and tumbled well out of my reach toward the sleek white couches lining the wall of windows that look out over the beach. It’s not worth my effort to gather them all. I’ll just order pizza again. Eating healthy is not worth the trouble. I glance to my right where a large white desk sits vacant. Thank god, no one witnessed my embarrassing fall. I close my eyes, contemplating my next move.

  “Ma’am, are you okay?” a deep voice says to me.

  “I’m not a ma’am,” I say, not bothering to open my eyes or move. He’s confirmed that I’m not dead, so I expect him to leave me alone. I have learned after living in LA for the past three months that the people here aren’t any more considerate than the people in NYC are. I exhale when I hear the lobby door swing shut again.

  “I’m such a disaster,” I mumble to myself.

  The same deep voice laughs. “A beautiful disaster.” I open my eyes and see golden brown eyes peering curiously at me. I slowly sit up and gulp at the sight in front of me. He grins and my cheeks burn a bright shade of red. His dark brown hair is tousled; it doesn’t look like he’s ever combed it. Dark stubble covers his strong chin and neck. He’s not wearing a shirt - just shorts and running shoes, which allow me to see every perfect muscle glistening from the sweat covering his body. Tattoos cover his torso and arms. Beautiful. I realize I’m staring, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away from him if I wanted. He’s too beautiful. I feel my heart racing again, my breath quickening and the sweat forming have nothing to do with my earlier panic attack.

  He gently places one finger under my chin, raising it to close my gaping mouth. I flush a shade redder, but I don’t stop staring. He has a gleam in his eyes as he looks intently from my mouth to my eyes and then my forehead.

  “Shit, you’re bleeding,” he says, breaking the spell that has come over me.

  “I’m sure I’m fine. I just need to get back to my condo,” I say as I begin to stand. He offers his hand to me, and I take it as he easily pulls me into a standing position. He holds onto my sweaty hand for much longer than what is necessary for me to regain my balance. I stare up at him now as he towers over me before he quickly jogs around the lobby picking up every apple, orange, and tube of Pringles that rolled out of my bags when I fell. My mouth gapes open again, but no words come out. I just stand frozen.

  “Breathe,” he says, smiling. My face heats up again as I release a breath I didn’t know I had been holding. Get it together. You can’t be into him. It’s too soon. I reach into my pocket to feel the warm green fabric there. It reminds me of what I’ve lost and what I am not willing to lose again. I take a pained breath as I let the guilt wash away.

  “Come on. Let me help you to your condo.”

  My mouth moves to form the word ‘no,’ but it would be so much easier with his help. So instead, I follow him to the bank of elevators at the far end of the lobby. He presses the button and the doors open immediately. We enter in silence.

  “What floor?” he asks, as the doors begin closing.

  “Eighth,” I respond, trying not to look at him and embarrass myself again.

  But I still see the crooked grin he flashes me out of the corner of my eye. This time I see a hint of dimples I didn’t see before. “So what’s your name?”

  “Alex … ah,” I respond in a voice barely audible. Dammit! Why is it so hard for me to act like a normal human being around this man? He’s good looking, sure, but he has heartbreaker written all over that smug grin.

  “Alex what?”

  I open my mouth to correct him but snap it shut quickly. My name is Alexa, not Alex, but coming from his mouth, Alex sounds perfect. He doesn’t need to know anything else about me. As soon as we get to my condo, I plan to get rid of him and will never see him again.

  “Just Alex. So who is my rescuer?”

  A surprised look crosses his face, confusing me. “The name’s Landon. Just Landon.”

  I give him a weak smile back. The elevator doors open, and he holds them to give me time to get out without crashing again. We reach my condo after winding down the long hall, and I dig through my purse to find my keys. I fumble with the key in the door before it finally unlatches. I walk past the kitchen that opens into my living room, heading straight for my couch. Collapsing on it, I let my crutches fall to the floor, finally feeling like I can breathe again. I frown at the closed drapes across from me, blocking my view of the ocean. I’ll have to get up again to open them, so I can see the waves as I drift off to sleep.

  “You can just set the bags on the counter in the kitchen,” I say, not bothering to turn my head to him.

  “Did you just move in?” he asks, striding around my condo, examining all the boxes lining most of my walls. He walks as if he owns the place. Not like a stranger should. I look around at the neatly stacked boxes that I haven’t been able to bring myself to unpack. When I do, it means this is real. This is my home. And I don’t know if this should be my home or not.

  “Sort of,” I answer.

  I hear Landon digging around in one of the boxes in the kitchen, but I don’t have the strength to lift myself off the couch. He can rob me for all I care, just as long as he doesn’t take this couch so I can sleep. I hear him run the faucet in the kitchen and then walk toward the couch. He kneels on the floor next to my head before pressing the wet washcloth to my forehead. I shiver despite the washcloth being warm. He continues to hold the washcloth to my forehead for several minutes. Neither of us really speaks, and I just close my eyes to try to relax. I expect him to ask questions about my leg or my still bruised face, but he doesn’t. I realize, as I look down at my leg, that he can’t see the damage. My long skirt keeps it hidden. I’ve never been more thankful to be wearing a skirt in my life. If he saw my damaged leg, he wouldn’t be able to get out of here fast enough. He wouldn’t be wasting any time on me, even if he is just trying to be nice. The scars covering my face, arms, and chest are usually enough to scare everyone away, which allows me to spend most of my time by myself. And that’s how I like it.

  He removes the washcloth. “I think the bleeding has s
topped. Do you need help unpacking?” It takes me longer to answer than it should, as the smell of his sweet sweat and deodorant has distracted me. I’m a little shocked at how nice he is being. It seems out of character for the model bad boy in front of me.

  “No, I can manage,” I say, as I move to get up to let him out.

  “You stay,” he commands as if I’m a dog. “I can let myself out.”

  I lie back down, despite how I hate when people order me around. I just really need to sleep. The afternoons are the only time I get a reprieve from the darkness that consumes me at night, giving me only a few hours to sleep before the darkness comes for me.

  I watch as he moves to a box labeled pillows and blankets. He pulls a blanket out and drapes it over me. I close my eyes to hide the tear I feel escaping and falling down my face. The blanket still smells like him.

  Continue Reading Aligned: Volume 1 for FREE here

  About Ella Miles

  Ella Miles writes steamy romance with a twist. She’s currently living her own happily ever after near the Rocky Mountains with her high school sweetheart husband. Her heart is also taken by her goofy four year old black lab that is scared of everything, including her own shadow.

  * * *

  Ella is the author of the bestselling book: TOO MUCH. She is also the author of the ALIGNED series, MAYBE series, DEFINITELY series, and UNFORGIVABLE series. Get a free book by visiting her website: EllaMiles.com/freebooks.

  Stalk her at:

  www.ellamiles.com

  ella@ellamiles.com

  Acknowledgments

  This book was really fun to write and was a bit different than any other book I’ve written. I came up with the idea for a book at a time when I didn’t have time to actually write it. So instead of taking a month or two and just writing it straight through I started writing a chapter a week or whenever I could fit it in between other projects. And then I posted the book to my website for anyone to read and give feedback on as I wrote it.

  It was such a fun experience to write it this way and to read everyone’s feedback as I wrote it! I might even do it again with another book in the future.

  So first and foremost I must thank everyone that read that initial version of this book! You are all amazing and it so nice to hear how excited you all were to read another chapter each week.

  To everyone that not only read it but also gave me feedback both positive and negative thank you! You really helped me figure out how to make this book the best that it can be! Thank you to Debbie C., Abigail A., Maj B., Marion M., Colleen D., Terry A., Cheryl M., Tannie L., Crystal C., Tina P., Linda L., Lenora S., Caliestro N., Jennifer K., and Tracey.

  I know I’m probably forgetting someone and for that I’m sorry! If I forgot you, remind me so that I can make it right! :)

  I must thank my wonderful editor Jovana. You are amazing and I don’t know how you put up with me missing deadlines and all the horrible typos that I make, especially now that I’m dictating more. You’re amazing!!

  Thank you Cara for making me a beautiful cover as always!!

  Thank you to my husband who put up with me while I wrote this and also helped me with the final round of proofreading! Maybe someday I’ll write something with less romance in it that you actually want to read instead of being forced into reading :) Thank you for reading my books anyway! I love you.

  And thank you to my readers! You are all so so amazing!! This has been an incredible journey so far and I can’t wait to see what comes. Thank you!!