"Baby, what happened to you? Talk to me." His voice is silky smooth and full of kindness, which slices deeper.
"Nothing happened," I rasp.
"You're lying." His tone gentle, his fingers now caressing the back of my scalp.
"Nothing I can talk about."
"Says who?"
"Me." To my horror, a tear trails down my cheek.
His crystal blue eyes are swimming with concern, which makes my already unstable emotions even shakier.
"Don't," I beg. "Please don't look at me like this."
"Like I care?"
"Yes, you can't care."
"Too late."
"You have to let what happened between us go."
"Not going to happen."
"Why? I've told you I'm not that woman! If you knew the person I really am, you'd be mortified you ever hooked up with me." I reach up between us, swiping the path of tears away.
"Impossible."
"Arrrrgggg!" I try to twist out of his grip, only to be yanked into his chest.
"I know the person you are because you are the same person I spent the best weekend of my life with."
"No." I shake my head against him, denying myself the happiness at his admission. "That was sex; this is real life."
"Bullshit," he deadpans, his voice hard and steely.
"I'm working through some things and you don't need to get involved."
"Whatever is eating you up inside, I can help. No matter what it is, I'll never regret my time with you. You can talk to me."
"I can't." My whisper comes out muffled, and I'm suddenly grateful he's got me pinned to him. "You're too good for me."
The silence gives me a chance to regain my composure and stop the pounding in my chest. When I have my emotions locked in place, I wrap my arms around his waist and lean back to face him. "When I say you'd be mortified, I'm referring to myself. I'm embarrassed by the woman I was, and tarnishing the memories of our time together is not—"
He shuts me up by running his mouth across mine, nibbling on my bottom lip and pressing his forehead to mine. "I know about the Prada Princess, heard about it before even knowing it was you who moved into town. But that's not the reason I call you Princess."
"Why then?"
"Because you're fucking gorgeous, you're chasing a dream, and when I remember our time together, it was perfect. The name fits."
"You're imagining a Paper Princess."
"Not in my mind. Pretty sure I remember you as perfect."
For the first time in a long time, I find myself wanting to hear him call me by the name I swore to hate. "Miller—"
"We have time," he cuts me off again.
"Time?"
"I'm not going anywhere. We have time," he repeats.
"I don't know what you're looking for, but I don't have a lot to give right now."
"You're wrong."
"You're not listening to me."
"Mmhmm." His lips touch mine again, vibrating with his response before he kisses me tenderly and loosens his grip to give me a little space. "To prove I hear you, I'll let you off the hook."
"How gracious."
"For now," he finishes with a hint of humor.
"Good lord!" I drop my head back to the ceiling.
"Ashlyn?"
My breath catches in my throat at the seriousness of his expression when I meet his eyes.
"Don't have a clue what you're hiding, but I get the feeling you've been dealing with this shit by yourself for a long time. You're not alone anymore. I've got your back."
His words are loaded with conviction. The overwhelming urge to cry strikes again, and I swallow hard, willing it to go away. Instead of continuing to push my argument, I say, "Thank you."
His eyes flicker with approval, and a slight grin spreads across his lips. "It'll get easier, promise," he teases. "But since I know those words are probably boiling in your throat, let’s get you some wine to wash away the burn."
The heaviness evaporates, and I fight a smile. "You have wine?"
"No, but where we're going does. We've had a hell of a day, and we're going to eat."
Once again, my initial instinct is to argue that I should go home and put some distance between us. Especially since he's made this decision without asking me. But the thought of dining out is much better than eating a peanut butter sandwich alone. Then I remember what I'm wearing.
"I can't go out to dinner like this. I'm a wreck."
"You're beautiful. And dressed for where we're going."
"Are we finishing our beer?" My nerves kick into overdrive at the thought of a dinner date with Miller in public.
"You want to finish your beer? Watching you take those two sips was only slightly less uncomfortable than your apologies and thank yous.”
I push at his shoulder, rolling my eyes. "It wasn't that bad! I used to put my brothers to shame. My reputation as the keg stand champion at Georgia games is unmatched. I'm out of practice."
He scans my face, his arms squeezing once more before letting me go. His hand slides in mine. "Come on, party girl. Let's get you something more pleasing to your palate. And on the way, I'll let you tell me all about your upside-down beer guzzling. It's a great visual."
I fight like hell to remain straight-faced but fail when my lips curl up as I let him lead me back to his truck.
•—•—•—•—•
"Are you finally going to tell me how you pulled this off?" I wave my hand over the table, which is filled with the remnants of our dinner.
When Miller drove straight to my house, I assumed he changed his mind about going out. A wave of disappointment flooded through me until I caught the mischief in his eyes when he came to my door, took my hand, and led us straight through to my back porch where a full-course dinner was waiting.
"I have connections."
"Connections that cater, deliver, and set up a full meal?"
"Told you this morning, people don't like to disappointment me."
"You're full of surprises."
"Better watch it, Princess. That almost sounded like a compliment. First, you like my house, and now you like my dinner."
"It's the wine. The wine is the best part." I tip my glass his way.
"Mom and Darby love that brand, thought you may like it."
"My new favorite."
He flashes me a smile, leaning back in his chair and taking a sip of his beer. His gaze fixes on my backyard, and we fall into silence. The night has been nothing less than wonderful. Our conversation geared toward normal subjects, mostly me questioning the project sites we stopped by today. He stayed safe, too, asking about my family and brothers. He didn't push or bring up Chicago, and I didn't dare mention anything from earlier in the day.
It was light, easy, and possibly the most carefree I'd felt in months.
After a bit, I catch the way his nails scrape the label on the neck of his bottle and his weary expression that is a million miles away.
"Are you okay?"
His eyes cut to mine, and it's obvious something's bothering him. "Yeah, sorry, my mind drifted to the day."
"A lot happened today. Anything specific?" God, I hope he doesn't bring up the scene from this morning.
He studies me for a second and takes another gulp of his beer. "It's personal. You able to handle that?"
His tone isn't rude, but it still stings. I've shut him down hard when it comes to my personal life, and it's hypocritical for me to ask him to open up. But at this moment, I'm breaking my own rules because whatever is on his mind is important to me.
"I deserve that, but yes. If you want to talk about it, I'm here to listen."
"I'm worried about Darby."
His admission causes my chest to seize. He doesn't have to explain for me to understand what he is saying. Miller briefly described his conversation with Pierce this morning. When we arrived at the bakery today, my instincts went on alert. Darby tried to put on a happy appearance, but something was upsetting her.
He pierces me with a hard stare. "You really think that's it?"
I rake my bottom lip between my teeth and shake my head slowly. "No, I don't think that's it," I admit softly.
"Me neither, it's a bullshit excuse she's trying to hide behind."
"Maybe she has her reasons."
"You don't understand. Last time she hid deep-rooted feelings it was a clusterfuck. Sometimes I think we're all still recovering from it."
I suck in an audible breath, jerking back. "That's not fair."
His eyes flare before filling with guilt. "You're right. It was a shitty, dick thing to say. Things have changed. If Pierce heard me say that, he'd level me out."
Austin and Andrew come to mind and their own protective way of thinking. "I didn't mean it like that. You have a right to be concerned. As his brother, you've been through a lot. What I meant is that it's not fair to assume the worst. As you said, things have changed."
"Do you know what happened to them?"
"I heard Darby's version years ago when we first met."
"I'm sure you got the gist of things from her perspective."
Memories of the first weekend I met Darby come to mind. Stephanie had warned me her best friend had a heartbreaking past, but hearing Darby's story and witnessing her breakdown was devastating. "It was pretty bad."
"We lived in pure hell with Pierce." There's a hint of something in his tone that sounds slightly like anger, and I feel the need to defend her.
"Hell is a step up from where she was. It was a long time ago, but I still remember the pain and agony Darby was living through. I was visiting Stephanie for a few days. The second night, she got a call. I could only hear one side of the conversation, but it was intense. The next thing I knew, we were in the car and she was driving like a maniac to get to Darby. No amount of forewarning could have prepared me for what we walked in on that night."
Flashbacks explode in my brain, and a chill runs up my spine, recalling what happened next.
"Jesus, Ashlyn, you look like a ghost. What did you walk into?"
"The saddest, most gut-wrenching scene I've ever experienced in my life. A woman I'd never met was curled on the floor, her body visibly convulsing as she wailed into the room. Mail surrounded her. I stood back, ready to call nine-one-one. Stephanie immediately had Darby in her arms and pried a piece of paper out of her hands. When she read it, her own body quaked as she cried with her friend. Darby began to chant the same thing over and over. It didn't make sense until later, when the pieces came together."
"What was she chanting?"
I take a sip of wine, suddenly feeling like I'm revealing Darby's deep secrets. "It's not my place to say. I probably shouldn't have told you this much. It was a rough time, and as you mentioned, life was hell for both of them."
"What was she chanting?" he pushes.
"Why is that important?"
"Because it means something to me."
"I'm not sure I remember exactly."
"You're lying."
I grip the stem of my glass, knowing it's useless to deny him. "Fine, you're right, I'm lying. I'll never forget her words or the torture in her voice. She was saying, 'Cole Matthew, Cole Matthew, Cole Matthew. He gave him my name… my name… I was supposed to give him a Cole Matthew.' That was the first time in my life I saw what true anguish and suffering really was."
"Holy fucking shit." Miller's face has now gone pale as it sinks in. "Did you know what she was talking about?"
"Turns out Darby's mom had sent her a package and dropped some mail in the box that had been sent to her house. She unintentionally sent the birth announcement for Pierce's son."
"Cole is Pierce's middle name, and Matthew is mine. Pierce named his son."
"She didn't tell me that."
"Connie's such a fucking cunt," he spews with hatred.
"I don't know her, but I'd have to agree. Certainly one of the cruelest tricks I've seen."
He drops his chin to his chest, which is heaving with deep breaths. "God, every time I learn something like this, it reminds me I'm a bastard."
"Why are you a bastard?"
"I hated Darby for a long time for what I thought she'd selfishly done to my brother. When the truth came out a year ago, it was my words that caused the damage in the first place. Stories like the one you shared make their nightmare all too real."
I reach over and put my hand on his knee, squeezing lightly. "I may not know all the gritty details, but you didn't drive her away. She was depressed and needed help. What happened with Pierce isn't your responsibility."
"I should have seen things clearer, been more aware of what was happening."
"What could you do?"
"Who knows, but I wouldn't have sat around and let him fuck up his life like he did."
"You think he considers Maya and Cole a fuck-up?"
"You know what I mean."
"I know, but I also know he has Darby now, and they found a way to work through their past and let it go. You have to do the same."
He takes my hand and threads our fingers together. His attention stays on our joined hands, and when he raises his attention to me, a tingle races up my spine. "I think you can help me with that."
"Me?"
"Yeah, help me figure out what is going on with Darby, so I can help my brother fix it."
"I’m not sure it's my place to get into her business."
"Being her friend is not getting into her business."
"We're not that close, Miller. It would be awkward."
"You two have history. Maybe she'll open up to you."
"I'll check on her tomorrow. But I'm sure whatever is on her mind, Pierce will have handled—"
My statement dies when his face goes hard, his jaw sets, and his eyes darken. "Son of a fucking bitch!" he hisses. "The name."
"What? What name?"
"Pierce told Darby he was ready to pick a name for the baby. She's been holding off. It didn't seem like a big deal to me until hearing your story. I'd bet my ass that's what's wrong."
My heart hurts at his realization, and I suck in a breath, tears springing to my eyes. "Poor Darby. I can't imagine what she's feeling right now if those emotions resurfaced."
"Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me." He releases my hand to scrub his through his hair. "This is bad, and I can't do a goddamned thing about it."
"I shouldn't have told you. Somehow it feels like betrayal."
"It's not betrayal, and she won't know you told me. That's why this is bad. Pierce lives with the shame every day. If he knew any of this, he'd go fucking ballistic. Outside of the existence of Maya and Cole, he'd do anything to erase those years."
"Maybe you can gently explain that the pressure to pick a name may cause her sadness."
His gaze flies to me. "When it comes to Darby, Pierce will move fucking mountains to keep stress out of her life."
"That's sweet but impossible. There are some things out of his control."
Miller's eyes scrunch together, and his mouth presses in a taut line. He stares as if I've told him something outrageous. "You've met my brother, right?"
"You know I have," I snap, feeling offended with the way he's looking at me.
He picks up on my gripe, and his face relaxes, his lips twitching slightly. "You'll learn soon enough."
"What does that mean?"
"I told you before, we don't fuck around."
There's no way to miss the intent behind his statement and the way it's directed at me. "Why do I feel like this conversation just took a turn?" I mumble under my breath, fighting the urge to squirm in my seat.
"What's t
hat?" His grin turns wicked, knowing he heard what I said, and he sits back in his chair, the intensity gone.
"I thought you were distraught over Darby. Let's not lose focus."
"I'm focused."
"A few seconds ago, you were ripping your hair out. Let's go back to that."
"I have a plan."
"You have a plan? You came up with a plan in zero point two seconds?"
"Yep."
"Want to share it?"
"Nothing I can do to change what happened, but it'll work itself out."
"That's it? What does that exactly mean?"
"I'm seeing now how things find a way of working out."
He reaches to the bottle of wine chilling in the middle of the table and tops off my glass. "Time to change the subject."
"I'm not sure my brain can switch gears this quick."
"I'm thinking switching gears is your specialty. At the risk of making you defensive, and not wanting to argue, why don't we talk about the house?"
I huff out but agree. It's been a good night and I don't want to argue. The house is a safe subject, so I take a sip and dive in.
Chapter 5
Miller
"Stay with me, Lily." I kissed along the column of her throat, feeling her pulse quicken against my lips. She stiffened in my arms, then squirmed to get free. I loosened my hold enough for her to roll onto her back and face me.
"That's not a good idea."
"I don't leave until Monday. I'd like to spend more time with you."
"Isn't that against the rules?"
"What rules?"
"The rules of a one-night stand."
My heart rate spiked, hearing the label she'd put on our night together. "There are rules?" I asked low, trying to cover my irritation.
She searched my face, her eyes filling with doubt. "I don't know. I've never done this before," she admitted on a whisper.
The knot in my stomach unraveled, and a scorching sensation seared through my veins. Memories of the night before rolled through my head. No hesitation, no wavering—she gave herself willingly. If it wasn't for the pure honesty shining on her face, I'd have called bullshit. But that morning, the confidence of the previous night had faded. A possession like I'd never felt boiled inside.
Miller's Time (Southern Charmers Series Book 2) Page 5