Remember When (Teach Me Book 3)

by RC Boldt

  “Holy shitsnacks,” Tate murmured. Why? Why did he have to look all freaking hot and put together when she … well, didn’t. Immediately glancing down at herself, she dislodged her arms from her friends’ hold to brush a handful of stray crumbs from the bodice of her sundress. She knew that her lipstick was long gone and she probably had crazy hair since Raine had insisted she put it up “just in case she had to be sick”. Which was ridiculous since they all knew Raine was the biggest lightweight out of all of them.

  Her stomach gave a little flip of its own at the sight of him. Of the man who had perfect freaking hair, just the right amount of stubble that made a woman want to feel it in certain places, dressed in a pair of well-fitted jeans and a plain, short-sleeved gray shirt. The same man who currently had his eyes trained on her and seemed … amused?

  No. That was not okay in her book.

  “Vaughn.” She stepped away from Raine and Laney to start toward his Jeep. “So nice of you to—ooof!” Her heel caught on something or, maybe, her lingering tipsiness had something to do with her stumble. Miller reached out to steady her in the nick of time.

  “Easy there, Donnelly. No face planting on my watch.” Even with the dim streetlights nearby, she couldn’t see his eyes to tell if he was laughing at her.

  “Nice save, Vaughn,” she heard Laney say from behind her, her friend’s tone holding a far greater amount of amusement than Tate preferred. Of course her friends were laughing at her. Because friends did shit like that. Especially hers.

  “Time to get in the car and go home, party animal.” Miller’s grasp on her elbow elicited shivers and, noticing them, turned to her with a look of concern. “You warm enough? I have a hoodie in the back if you need it.”

  Without thinking, she answered him, “Please.”

  He opened up the rear hatch and pulled out a plain gray hooded sweatshirt, promptly helping to slide it over her head and put her arms through the extra-long sleeves. Then, he guided her around the vehicle to settle her into the passenger seat, going so far as to buckle her in. Laney and Raine were already seated in the back.

  So there she sat, in Miller’s Jeep, all nice and cozy with his sweatshirt on. No big deal, right? It was just a freaking hooded sweatshirt, after all.

  Except for two small details. One, she wasn’t actually cold. And two, she pulled up the collar of the sweatshirt around her chin so she could—as discreetly as possible—take a sniff, here and there, of it. Because, holy hell, did it smell good. It smelled like a combination of Miller’s cologne and bodywash. So intoxicating. So—

  “Just an fyi. You’re really creeping us out right now, with your sniffing of that thing.” Tate’s head whipped around at Laney’s voice. Glancing back to where she and Raine were seated, she saw the looks of dry amusement on their faces. Just as she was about to make an attempt at a witty comeback, Miller opened his door and slid into the driver’s seat.

  He asked quietly, “You okay?” She merely offered a nod in answer.

  He put on his seatbelt, backed out of the driveway, and began the drive home. She decided the forty-five minute drive from Atlantic Beach to Fernandina Beach would be a prime opportunity to show him just how much of a stellar conversationalist she was these days. To show him that she was even wittier than ever, to show him exactly what he had missed out on all these years.

  Yeah, I’ll show him, she thought to herself. Attempting to stifle a yawn, she promptly decided she would show him after she rested her eyes a bit. Which was how it happened that Miller dropped off Laney and Raine first.

  And how she slept through the entire trip.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  SOMEONE WAS CALLING HER NAME and attempting to nudge her awake from a phenomenal dream. The audacity of a person. Really.

  Blindly swatting a hand out, she mumbled, “Leave me alone.”

  “I can’t let you sleep in my Jeep all night.”

  Who the hell would say they “can’t let her sleep”? Really? That was just ru—

  Then, it dawned on her where she was and who she was with. Remembrance of the night’s events came crashing down on Tate. Slowly, with more of a wincing motion, she cracked open her eyes to verify who was speaking to her.

  Shiiiiiiiiiit.

  Miller Fucking Vaughn. Of course.

  His loud, unexpected bark of laughter startled her and she realized her mistake. Because she had actually spoken her thoughts aloud. Brilliant. Just brilliant.

  “That’s amusing, Donnelly.” His gorgeous lips were twitching ever so slightly, as if resisting the urge to grin. “Since I’ve often used that as your middle name, as well.”

  Wait, what?

  “That hurts.” Which wasn’t a lie or an over exaggeration. It did. Even if she didn’t want it to. Which she didn’t. She’d had enough hurt from this guy to last her a lifetime. And then some.

  She also noticed he didn’t apologize.

  Exhaling loudly, she unfastened the seatbelt and grabbed her small purse. “Thanks for the ride.” Turning to open her door, the hand he laid on her arm stopped her.

  “Wait. I’ll come around.”

  Before she could protest, Miller was out of the vehicle and came around to open her door, helping her out, one hand at her elbow and the other at the base of her back. And damn those tingles rocking through her at his touch.

  He carefully guided her up the stairs to her door. As she unlocked and opened it, ready to enter, she turned to offer a good-bye.

  “Well … thanks for the ride home and everything.” Nodding perfunctorily, she turned back to step inside her house, ready to lock the door behind her.

  “You’re welcome.” Instead of turning around and going back down the stairs to his vehicle, Miller stepped inside, closing the door behind him. Wide-eyed, she stared at him. A feeling of unease crept through her as she watched him reach a hand behind him, clicking to secure the lock.

  “What are you doing?” Her hesitance was apparent.

  His full lips curved into a smirk. “Coming inside.” He tilted his head, eyes scanning her from top to bottom. “Helping you into bed.”

  Whoa. What did he just say?

  With a look of disbelief, she said, “You are not helping me into bed.”

  Stepping away from her door, he toed off his flip flops onto the doormat before taking a step closer to her.

  “Miller Vaughn. You are not—”

  She broke off when he dropped down to kneel at her feet, sliding off her strappy wedge heels. His large hands made her feet look tiny, and the feel of his callused fingers made goosebumps break out on her skin. Once he had placed both of her heels next to his flip flops on the mat, his eyes met hers, and there was something in the depths … something indecipherable, yet it made her unable to look away.

  “I want to make sure you get cleaned up and in bed.” When she opened her mouth to protest, he added firmly, “Safely.”

  That, right there, had her prepared snarky response of “I don’t need a babysitter” or something close to it going poof. Gone. Just like that.

  Why? Because the way he had said it hadn’t been Neanderthal-like. And his eyes had looked at her as though he actually cared about her. As if he were truly worried about her well-being.

  She stared at him, still in his crouched position at her feet. And, to be honest, if it had been any other time—especially a few weeks earlier—she would’ve had a lot to say about him being at her feet. And none of it would’ve been very … uh, favorable. Like, at all.

  But now? Now, she felt thrown off kilter. Because the truce they’d made still didn’t address the fact that there was a shit ton of hurt between them.

  “Miller.” She breathed his name and it sounded like a plea to her own ears.

  Slowly he stood up, eyes locked with hers the entire time, and it felt like all the oxygen had been sucked from the room. She found it difficult to breathe because of the way he was looking at her, eyes darkened with intent. The way those eyes flitted to her lips had her le
aning in closer, tilting her head up. Just as their lips were a hairsbreadth away from touching, she felt his hands come to tuck her hair behind her ears on either side before his palms cradled her face.

  “Time to get you ready for bed.” His hands dropped from her face, grasping her hand before tugging her down the hallway to her bedroom. Once they stepped inside, he let her hand go and moved a few steps away. Appearing almost nervous, he ran a hand through his hair, mussing it slightly, but still managing to look achingly handsome.

  “Why don’t you get your pajamas and wash up,” he gestured quickly to her adjoining bathroom, “and I’ll tuck you in before I leave.”

  Right then, it was like a needle dragging across a record, making that awful screeching sound. Tate was pretty certain she was hallucinating. Maybe someone had slipped her a roofie? Because Miller Vaughn hadn’t actually just said that he’d “tuck her in”. Had he?

  Miller closed the gap between them and one long finger went under her chin, pressing up to close her mouth. Because, yeah, her jaw had gone slack.

  “Go get washed up, T,” he told her softly.

  T. He’d called her T. Damn him and that old nickname which seemed to melt her defenses.

  He steered her in the direction of her bathroom and she somehow managed to put one foot in front of the other, entering and shutting the door only to sag against it. Tate pressed a hand to the middle of her chest, feeling the rapid beating of her heart.

  “Damn you, Miller Vaughn,” she muttered under her breath.

  Because there had only ever been one man who’d managed to make her heart speed up, as if to say, “He’s the one.”

  And he was standing on the other side of that door.

  * * *

  “Fuck,” Miller muttered to himself, beneath his breath. Because, really? What fucking guy says he’s going to “tuck” a chick into bed?

  Oh, yeah. One without any balls, that’s who.

  He ground his palms into his eyes and let out a low laugh that had an edge to it. An edge of insanity, maybe. Yeah, because that was the only way he’d admit to the whole exchange which had just occurred.

  But, if he were being entirely honest, he didn’t regret it. Because after the words flew from his lips, the expression on Tate’s face had made it worth it. She had been stunned, yes. But the other emotion that had flitted across her face had looked a lot like surprise and he’d noticed the softening in her entire demeanor.

  Inhaling a deep breath and letting it out slowly, he heard the bathroom door open and braced himself for her to kick him out. Which he couldn’t actually blame her. He’d all but strong-armed his way inside and demanded she let him tuck her in to bed for the night. She was probably going to—

  Miller had turned around and the sight before him stopped him dead in his tracks. Hell, he’d be surprised if his brain hadn’t just short-circuited at the sight of Tate in her pajamas—or what he assumed were her pajamas as they were a simple tank top and loose fitting pair of cotton shorts. Scrubbed free of makeup, she was even more gorgeous, appeared more touchable, almost vulnerable.

  “Well, I’m all cleaned up, so …” She trailed off, eyes darting nervously to her bedroom door as if she wanted him to leave. But he wasn’t going anywhere.

  Amusement lit his eyes as he grinned at her. “Uh-uh, Donnelly. I promised you I’d tuck you in. And I fully intend to deliver.”

  She huffed out a loud breath. “Fine.” Then, she walked to her bed—flashing him a delicious look at her ass which made his fingers itch to get his hands on—roughly yanking back the covers before sliding in, promptly pulling them up to her chin.

  Her expression grew panicked as he walked around to the other side of the bed. “What are you doing?” He settled himself beside her, atop the comforter. On his side with a hand propping up his head, he gazed down at her.

  “Just tucking you in for the night.”

  She seemed dubious. “Right.” Just then, a jaw-breaking yawn overtook her.

  “Just close your eyes and I’ll tell you a bedtime story.”

  What. The. Fuck. Did. I. Just. Say? Jesus. What the hell was wrong with him?

  Her eyes flew open. “What did you just say?”

  “Close your eyes, Donnelly.” That had come out far gruffer than he would have preferred. Softening his tone, he added, “Just relax.”

  God, he could lie there and stare at her forever. She was so achingly beautiful.

  “Go on with your story, Vaughn.”

  He could detect the sleepiness in her voice.

  “Once upon a time, there was a boy and a girl who lived in the same neighborhood and went to the same school but had never really crossed paths before.” Miller’s eyes traced over her features, over the cascade of blonde hair fanned out against her pillow. Watching her for a reaction, he carefully reached out with his index finger to run it along the ends of the blonde tresses, reveling in the silkiness. She didn’t move, her breathing even but not appearing to be asleep quite yet.

  “The boy had wanted to talk to the girl but she seemed like she wouldn’t want anything to do with someone like him. She seemed so perfect and smart and had her act together even back then in high school.” Lost in the memories, he continued. “Finally, in a class they had together, the boy got up the urge to sit with her and talk to her. And she was even more captivating than he’d imagined.”

  His lips twisted in a wry grin. “He had to work hard to convince this girl that he wanted to be with her. And when she’d finally believed it, when they’d become a couple, it had been like winning the lottery. Because she was …” Miller swallowed hard over the lump in his throat. “Because she was perfect,” he said in a whisper as he stared down, unseeing, at the finger tracing along her hair.

  “She was so perfect in every way that he knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. Even back then, when they were in high school. He just knew she was the one; she was it for him. So, they went to college together and life was great.”

  He paused, swallowing thickly. “Until the boy was gutted by his cousin’s death. That was when he decided he wanted to become a SEAL, to serve his country and honor his cousin. So he talked about it with the girl. She’d been supportive and told him she’d stand by him and love him, no matter what.

  “Except something happened.” Miller’s voice was barely a whisper now. “And every time that boy asked about letters from his girl, there weren’t any to be found. She just disappeared without a trace. And he had no clue why or what he did wrong.” His index finger stroked her hair. “And, the shitty part of it was, she took his heart with him.”

  Miller raised his eyes to Tate, only to find her still lying there, quietly breathing, deeply asleep.

  “And,” he added, quietly, “even though much time passed, the boy—now a man—sometimes wondered if that girl—now a breathtakingly, beautiful woman—still owned his heart.”

  He watched her as she slept, one corner of his lips tilted in a sad smile. Pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, he whispered, “Goodnight, T.”

  Carefully, he let himself out of the house, leaving the peacefully sleeping woman behind.

  Miller,

  Well, this is it. The last letter. And, yes, as ridiculous as it is, I’m mailing it off one final time. And totally expecting it to come back to me before I move. Even if a tiny part of me still hopes that it won’t come back. That it’ll actually get to you. I know the post office is probably super annoyed with me by now. And your Mom, too, of course.

  I’m leaving early Saturday morning to drive down with Cassie to get moved into my dorm room. She’s super excited that I’ll be living where’s it’s so much warmer than northeastern Ohio. And near a beach.

  There was a documentary type show on TV the other day about Navy SEALs battling it out in Ramadi. It made me think of you. Usually I try not to think about you, but even after everything that’s happened, I do worry about you. I pray that you’re staying safe.

  I don’t really
know how to end this …

  You were it for me, Miller. I thought I was it for you, too.

  Stay safe.

  Tate

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  “YOU SEEM MORE CONTEMPLATIVE THAN usual, Vaughn.”

  Miller turned at Doc’s words as they drove back from not only finishing up a training at the Jacksonville International Airport, but also working on detecting weaknesses in the overall security up at King’s Bay Naval Base and dealing with the designated personnel in charge of it … who was a complete fucking tool. They had been hired to determine how secure the base actually was in the face of an attack of any sort and the guy was taking their findings as a personal attack.

  In other words, he and Doc had had a shittastic day. And the last thing he wanted to do was get grilled about his level of contemplativeness.

  “No comment, huh?”

  Miller’s jaw clenched tight at his friend’s words. Just when he was truly tempted to lash out, what Doc said next stopped him in his tracks.

  “You ever wonder if maybe it happened for a reason?”

  Never before had he been glad to not be the one driving because, at Doc’s question, his head whipped around to stare at his friend in shock. Shock at the audacity of his words.

  As if knowing Miller’s instinctive reaction would be to lash out, Doc held up a hand to stop him. “I’m only asking because I’ve been there. Wondered why the hell something so shitty and fucked up happened only to realize, after some time passed, that it wasn’t meant to be.”

  Miller took his time responding, turning to stare out the passenger side window. “So, what you’re saying is that Tate and I were never meant to be,” he stated flatly.

  “Not at all what I’m saying.”