“Miller?” she says, her voice shaking and sad. I can tell she’s crying. I can pinpoint any emotion she’s feeling just from one word. I know her better than I know anyone else in this world.
“What’s wrong, baby?”
“Nothing. I just, umm, I…,” she can’t even talk she’s so upset.
“Goose, are you sick?”
“No,” she whispers.
Thank God. The relief I experience is short lived. If that fucker Bennett has hurt her, I’ll drive down there right now and kill him.
“Is it Bennett? Did he hurt you?”
“God, no, Miller. We’re perfect. He would never hurt me.”
I close my eyes and push my head against the building. We’re perfect. Those two simple words feel like an arrow to my heart.
“Why are you calling me?” I ask. The words came out with a harshness I didn’t intend. Her breath catches. Fuck.
“You’ve been gone for weeks. I miss my best friend. I want you to come back,” she says, barely audible through her tears.
“Where’s Bennett?” I ask. She shouldn’t be calling me in the middle of the night. I’m pretty sure he doesn’t know about this.
“At the hospital.”
I laugh. “So when you don’t have your boyfriend around, you miss me. I get it.”
“It’s not like that. I miss you all the time. Do you know how hard it’s been for me to go from seeing you every day to never seeing you at all? It’s killing me.”
“Do you know how hard is for me to watch you with Bennett? How hard it is for me to know I can never have you again? How hard it is for me to accept the fact that you’re in love with him and not me? It’s killing me, Goose, more than you can ever imagine.” The more I talk, the louder my voice gets, the heavier the lead in my stomach feels.
“I do love you Miller. I’ve loved you my whole life. I just don’t love you like that.”
I have to get off the phone. I can’t rehash this conversation. We’ve had it often enough that I’ve got all the different variations memorized. I can recite them in my sleep. I can’t hear any more of it.
“I need to go. Please don’t call me anymore. I can’t take it, Lucy. You have your new life with Bennett and I have mine. This is just how it’s got to be.”
I disconnect before she has the chance to try one more plea for my return. It might be the one time I cave. I can’t take that chance.
The phone chimes with a text thirty seconds later.
I’m sorry I hurt you so much. I don’t mean to. I love you.
Needing to get this build-up of painful emotion out, I turn around, let out a strangled sob, and pound my fist into the wood. I hit it over and over, numb to the pain. I ram it into the wall, watch the blood collect on the surface in front of me, but can’t seem to stop.
I can’t stop until I hear that raspy voice calling my name, until I feel a cool hand on my arm. I freeze in an instant, not wanting to accidently hurt her. She wraps her fingers around my arm and steers me back into the bar, depositing me on a bar stool.
She lays the phone and my pack of cigarettes on the bar directly in my line of sight. I stare at those three sentences on the webbed screen of my phone until my vision is blurred. I light a cigarette and let the smoke fill my lungs. I hold it in until I can’t stand it for one more second and exhale, pushing the poison out of my body. I continue the vicious cycle. Read the text, inhale, exhale. Andi adds another step to the mix. Woodford. I alter my routine. Bourbon, text, inhale, exhale. Bourbon, text, inhale, exhale. Over and over and over. I burn through several glasses of bourbon and countless cigarettes. We never speak. She stays with me the whole time, refilling my glass and lighting a cigarette for me whenever she feels like I need it.
I’m good and tanked. My face is numb, my mind is numb, and I think if I attempt to get off this stool, I will fall on my face. I make Andi aware of this fact. It’s the first time we speak.
“Well, I know something that will sober you up quick,” she says.
“Please enlighten me. I’m intrigued,” I tell her, reaching out to touch a strand of that wild hair. I have to put my hands on it. With this intense drunkenness comes my intense need to bury myself in a woman. At this point, any woman will do, especially my new feisty, red headed friend.
“Umm, that’s not what I meant. I need to clean up your hand. You did some real damage out there.”
I look at my hand. I must really be hammered to have forgotten what I did earlier. I can’t believe I didn’t break it. Who knows, it might be broken but I’m too fucked up to notice.
Andi comes back with a first aid kit in hand. “Do you need one more shot for good measure?”
I shake my head. One more shot and I’ll be in the hospital getting my stomach pumped.
“I’ll be gentle with you, Miller.”
And she is. She’s so very gentle. Her hands are light and soft. She winces each time she has to touch my mangled hand with antiseptic. I close my eyes so I don’t have to watch her, but I can feel her. I can feel her chest rise and fall with each breath. I can feel each of those breaths entering and leaving her body. I can feel every single exhale whispering against my cheek. I can feel each movement of her head, each movement of her legs. She’s standing between my legs, and each time hers brush against the insides of my thighs I feel it in the pit of my stomach.
I can also feel the cool metal of her wedding band each time it touches my hand. That’s the only thing keeping me from closing the gap between us and putting my mouth on her.
That’s the only way I know how to deal with this. It’s what I’ve done since I left. I find a woman and bury myself in her. I don’t have that option right now. All I have at my disposal is Andi. My very married friend Andi.
“All done,” she says, patting my thigh.
I open my eyes and look at her. God, she’s striking. So different from any woman I’ve ever seen.
“That’s why,” I whisper, not sure if she even hears my voice.
“That’s why what?”
She still has my hand in hers, so I tilt my head towards my phone on the bar.
“That’s why I’m here.”
She gives me a sad smile and pats my leg again. “I figured as much. You can talk to me about it, Miller. We’re friends, remember?”
“I remember.”
“Do you think you can make it home?”
“Only one way to find out,” I tell her, getting off the stool. I’m very unstable on my feet.
We walk out the door and she locks up behind us. She tries to tell me bye and part ways with me, but I don’t allow it.
“I’m walking you home. I might be drunk, but I’m not letting you go home by yourself.”
She doesn’t even try to fight me this time. In fact, she has to link her arm through mine and help me walk. I’m not in any shape to be walking right now. When we get to her house I slump down on the porch, leaning back on one of the columns. I close my eyes and the porch starts to spin. I slide one of my legs down, hoping the contact with the ground will steady me.
“Do you even remember how to get to your hotel?”
I slowly shake my head no. The slight movement was not a good idea.
“Let me walk you over there.”
“Nope. Then you’d have to walk back. Not happenin’.”
“Then let me drive you.”
“Then you’d have to drive back. Still not happenin’.”
“Miller, it’s like two blocks away. I did plenty on my own before you got here.” I barely hear her next statement. I don’t think she meant for me to. “I’m used to it.”
I open my eyes and look at my friend. There’s a raw sadness in her eyes that’s usually not there. I don’t like it.
“You can talk to me,” I whisper to her, giving her back her words from earlier.
She pulls on that lip of hers, and then says, “You can stay on the couch tonight. You’re about to pass out on the porch.”
“I don’t thin
k that’s a good idea.”
“Why? Because of Celeste? She won’t touch you. Her bark’s bigger than her bite. She’s harmless.”
Why would she even think I’d be worried about her best friend? Wouldn’t her husband lose his shit if he saw a drunk guy passed out on his couch? Am I too drunk to understand this situation?
“Because of your husband, Andi. Do you honestly think he’d be okay with a man sleeping on his couch?”
All the color drains from her face, but she recovers quickly. “Trust me, it’s fine. Come on, Miller. Let me put you to bed. You need all the sleep you can get. Your hangover’s gonna be a bitch.”
Chapter Eight
Miller
Her body is so soft. Every inch, every curve, every part of it is absolute perfection. I run my hands up and down her flesh, watching goose bumps form on her skin. She sighs my name as my lips and the tip of my tongue run across her jaw line, teasing her before they reach those plump pink lips.
“Are you sure about this? Once I start, I won’t be able to stop,” I breathe out against her mouth.
She doesn’t say anything in return, just closes the infinitesimal gap between our mouths and kisses me with a fierceness I’ve never experienced before. Her tongue against mine sends a shock throughout my entire body. My whole body wakes up.
We pull away from each other a few heated moments later, both of us breathless and smiling. Her eyes are dancing. They’ve come alive. Her whole face has come alive. I thought she was beautiful before, but this is no comparison. I’ve never her face glow like this.
“You’re gorgeous,” I tell her, as I weave my fingers through her wild red hair and pull her back in for another kiss. I can’t keep my mouth off of her.
I wake with a start, trying to figure out if what happened was a dream, or a flashback from the night before. My head is swimming in bourbon from last night. Bits and pieces from yesterday are floating in and out of my mind, but they are in a jumbled mess. I can’t be sure what’s fact and what’s fiction. I know I got rip-roarin’ drunk, based on the pounding in my head and the desert in my mouth. Anything else is up for debate.
I close my eyes and rub my temples, thinking about that tender moment with Andi.
Did we kiss?
I wade through the events that led me to her couch last night. The rubbing of a bandage on my face helps put the pieces together. The phone call from Goose, getting wasted, Andi taking care of me, and me walking her home. I don’t think anything else happened. That kiss was a dream. It never happened.
I feel like an asshole for even thinking it, but I’m disappointed that it never took place. It felt pretty amazing in my dream. I want to see that look on her face. I want to be the cause of that look. I want to make her come alive.
She’s married, Miller.
Very Married.
I start to drift off again when I hear footsteps coming down the hallway. They go straight into the kitchen. I assume it’s Andi, so I stay put for a few minutes. I don’t think I can handle seeing her, not after that dream I just had. It felt so real. I shouldn’t be thinking about her like that.
I can hear her and Charley whispering about breakfast options. Charley is crying for something, but Andi is telling her no, that they have to stay quiet. Charley keeps getting louder and louder, so Andi gives in to whatever it is she wants, making her clap and laugh. I hear them come into the living room and music starts playing.
I open my eyes and the two of them are dancing in the living room. I smile at the sight, propping my head up on my hand so I can get a better look at them. Andi’s got Charley on her hip and they are spinning around the living room, giggling and twirling, a blur of red hair and tan skin. Every few seconds, Andi has to shush Charley. She’s so engrossed in what she’s doing with her daughter, though, she doesn’t realize that I’m already up and watching them, fascinated.
“Don’t try to quiet her down on my account,” I say, causing Andi to jump.
“Miller, I didn’t know you were up. I thought you’d be passed out for hours after last night.”
Her face is red. I’m assuming it’s partly from twirling and partly from embarrassment.
“Nah. I’ve been up for a little while.”
“Let me go get you some orange juice and something for your head. I’ll be right back.”
She puts her daughter down and rushes off to the kitchen.
Charley comes over to the couch and stares at me. I give her a smile, and she grabs my hand.
“Boo boo,” she says. I glance down and remember my bandaged hand.
“Yeah. I have a boo boo. Your momma fixed it for me, though.”
Andi comes back in the living room with my medicine and glass of orange juice. I swallow the pills dry, then down the orange juice in a few gulps.
“Mommy, kiss boo boo,” Charley tells her.
We both just laugh her off, but she’s not having it. She keeps repeating herself, getting louder and louder. Finally, Andi rolls her eyes and gives in to her persistent daughter. She takes my hand, pulls it to her mouth, and presses her lips ever so gently to the bandage, part of those full lips hitting the bare skin of my fingers. Her eyes look up to mine and she drops my hand. I clear my throat.
“All better,” Charley says before she runs away.
Andi and I smile at each other.
“Thanks for taking care of me last night,” I tell her.
“That’s what friends do.”
“I’ll get out of your hair now.”
“Stay for breakfast. I’m just about to bake some blueberry muffins.”
I need to get out of here. This feels too comfortable for my liking. That kiss from my dream is stuck on repeat, playing over and over in my mind.
I wanted it to be real.
“Thanks, but I really do need to get going. I think I’ll go get my stuff and move into my new digs today.”
She smiles. “Good. Did Cap give you the key?”
I shake my head no. She goes to her purse, then comes back and dangles a single key on a ring in front of me.
“Here. You can have mine. Have you seen this place yet?”
“No. He just told me about it.”
“Tiny is too big of a word for it,” she says. “It makes this place look like a mansion. But, it has a bed, a bathroom, a TV, and a kitchenette. If you plan on staying a while, it will do until you can get some money saved for something a little bigger. The bed isn’t that great, so if you have a bed back home, I would suggest bringing it here.” More lip pulling. “If you need to go home to pick up some stuff, I can ride with you. You might need a friend. You know, for moral support.”
She sure likes throwing that word around. Between her and Goose, I’ve grown to hate that word. It’s like they both need to constantly remind me of where our relationships stand.
“Thanks, but I’m sure the bed will be fine.” I take the key from her. “I’ll see you around.”
Friends. The ‘F’ word I’ve come to loathe. How can I keep these two friends of mine out of my head? How can I keep these friends from invading my dreams every night? It’s been a few days since I crashed on Andi’s couch. I haven’t seen her around, but I can’t get her out of my head. I don’t know if it’s because I know she’s off-limits, or because she’s shown me a bit of kindness, but she’s worked her way into my thoughts and I can’t get her out. She’s competing with Goose for real estate there. The two of them are constantly occupying my mind. I feel like I’m going insane.
I haven’t been with a woman since I’ve been in Fairhope. Maybe I need to find someone to help me forget about them for a night. I’m behind the bar, scoping out a few options lingering around The Shipyard, when my friend comes strolling through the front door. She makes herself comfortable on one of the barstools, then proceeds to take my breath away with one of her smiles. That smile falters when she notices the look on my face. I must look like hell. I haven’t been sleeping, and I’ve been drinking in hopes of drowning in my misery.
It hasn’t been working.
“What’s the matter?” she asks, a genuine look of concern on her face.
“Nothing. You want a drink?”
“I want you to tell me what’s wrong. You look like shit.” She cocks her head to the side and pulls on that lip of hers.
That lip that I want to pull on with my teeth.
“Is it her? Did she call you again?” She whispers her questions, like she’s afraid to say it too loud. I just shake my head.
“Talk to me, Miller.”
“Goddamn it, Andi. I said nothing’s wrong. Drop it. Please.”
I immediately regret my words. I expect her eyes to start tearing up, but they don’t. They start blazing, the green practically glowing.
“Well excuse me for trying to make sure you’re alright. Last time I saw you, you almost broke your damn hand. You look even worse now. I’m just worried about you. Don’t be an asshole.”
She gets up and starts to leave, but I grab her wrist, keeping her in her spot.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you. I’m not fine, but that’s nothing new. I just don’t feel like talking about it right now. Don’t leave. Stay and have a drink.”
Her eyes regain some of their softness as she sits back down. She gives me another smile, so I give her one back. We stare at each other for a few seconds before I notice I still have her wrist in my hand. I give it a squeeze and let it go.
“So, what are you drinking?”
She looks around, that fire in her eyes blazing again, and says, “It’s pretty dead in here. Why don’t we shut this place down early and you can drink with me?”
“And what do you wanna drink?”
“Tequila.”
Oh shit.
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
“Why not? Cappy wanted Charley tonight, I don’t have to work in the morning, and you look like you need it. I don’t see anything wrong with my idea.”
“It’s tequila. Nothing good ever comes from shooting tequila.”
“You scared, Miller?” The challenge is evident in her eyes.
The Promise of More: The Home Series, Book Three Page 6
