“Stop it, Andi.” I don’t want to hear any of this. This isn’t supposed to be happening.
“I won’t stop. I need to say it, and you need to hear it. And, if I had to guess, your heart isn’t so neat, either, Miller. It’s just as messy, and I’m stuck in there, too.”
“Quit fucking saying those things to me, Andi.” I’m on the brink of hyperventilation. The need to get out of this room is starting to build. “We both love other people. We can’t love each other. That’s not how this works.”
“That’s bullshit, and you know it. You don’t love her anymore. You haven’t been in love with Lucy for a while.”
“I do love…” I start, but she cuts me off.
“You talk to her every day now, Miller. You’re not freaking out about it, punching walls and getting fucked up. You know I’m right. You’re over her, but you just can’t see it.”
I can’t speak. I can’t think. I can’t breathe. The more she talks the more it hurts.
“You know it’s the truth. I don’t think you were ever in love with her.” She stops her rant and pulls on her lip. “Have you slept with anyone else since you’ve been with me?”
My head snaps back like she slapped me. “Jesus Christ, Andi, you know I haven’t. I would never do that to you. I haven’t been with anyone but you since I got to Fairhope.”
“Did you go have sex with someone else when you found me studying with Nick?”
Is she serious?
“Fuck, no. Why would I do that to you?”
“You did it to Lucy when she first met Bennett. You did it before Lucy and Bennett ever got together. You did it just at the thought of them. And you continued to do it to her, over and over again. You wanted to hurt her. You think that’s love?”
Why is she bringing all this shit up? I ask her to stop, but she’s relentless. I have to go. I should have gone the minute she started talking.
“You fucked your way through your fair share of women when you were sleeping with Lucy, and then you screwed anyone who looked like her to try and get over her. Tell me, Miller, why would you do that to her and not to me? Are you gonna start finding random red-heads to fuck if I end things between us right now? Will that help you get over me?”
“Shut up, Andi.”
Her words are ripping me in two. She might as well stick her hand through my chest and pull my damn heart out.
“You didn’t fuck around on me because you’re in love with me. You wouldn’t dare treat me like you treated her. That’s real, pure, honest love, Miller. We have something real here. It’s love, and it could be beautiful. You just have your head too far up your ass to admit it.”
“I have to go.”
She sinks down on the bed, mouth hanging open, chest heaving, tears falling.
“What?”
“I can’t be here. I need to leave. I need some space to think.” I start throwing random things in a bag and grab my phone and keys off my dresser.
She gets up, jabbing her finger in my chest. “You can’t run away. That won’t make this any less real. That won’t make you forget me.”
I don’t have a response for her. She’s right. I know damn good and well that leaving won’t make me forget her. I couldn’t forget her, even if I wanted to. Nothing in this world would make me forget Andi.
“Walk out of that door, Miller, and this is as good as done.”
Her words feel like a physical blow to my back.
I can’t look back at her. I just walk out.
I regret it the minute she slams the door behind me.
I regret it the entire drive back to Baton Rouge.
I regret it when I pull my truck into Bennett and Lucy’s driveway a few hours later. Bennett’s dressed in scrubs and heading out the house when I shut off my ignition. My body and my mind are both so exhausted that I can’t muster up the energy required to even get my bag out of the truck. Hell, I can hardly pull myself out of my truck.
“You look like shit, man,” he says, holding the front door open for me to pass through.
“Nice to see you, too.”
“I’m headed out to work. Luce is at the hospital with Maggie and the boys. I take it you need a place to stay?”
I nod.
“This have anything to do with that red-head of yours?”
I nod again. He just chuckles.
“I’ll call Lucy on my way to the hospital and let her know you’re here. Help yourself to whatever you need, except my girl. That will get you killed. Anything else is all yours. You can crash in one of the spare rooms.”
He walks away, laughing. “I never thought I’d see the day.”
I walk down the short hallway, find the first bedroom that I can, and pass out.
I walk into the kitchen, not sure of the time, but almost certain it’s early evening. The sun’s almost gone for the day. Lucy’s standing at the stove, making grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup. I smile. After all this time, that’s still the only thing she can manage to make.
She turns around, a hesitant smile gracing her beautiful face.
“How you feeling?”
I shake my head. I don’t want to talk about it. I’m not ready to say anything. If I let the words out, the reality will sink in.
What did I do?
“Hungry?” she asks, plating up the sandwiches and taking the soup off the stove.
I swallow down the enormous lump in my throat before I attempt to speak. “I think I’ll hop in the shower first.”
She grabs my hand from across the island, giving it a squeeze. I don’t feel anything. I used to be hyperaware of each touch from Goose. Now, I feel nothing. Just the comforting touch of an old friend.
I join her outside after I shower, feeling a little better.
“Where’s Bennett?” I ask, in between bites of my now cold soup and sandwich.
“He got called back to the hospital.”
“How are Maggie and the babies?”
“She’s great. Amazing, actually. You wouldn’t believe how she is with them. I mean, I knew she’d be an awesome mom, but she’s not even fazed by all the medical things going on with them. And the boys are growing like weeds and getting stronger every day.” She stares off and smiles. “They just need some names, and we’ll be good to go.”
“What about Claire and Ava?”
She sighs and puts her sandwich down. “Everyone is fine, Miller. What about you? I want to know about you.” She looks down at her lap, then back at me. “I’ve been talking to you almost every day, and you never acted like anything was wrong. Then you show up this morning, Bennett said looking worse than he’s ever seen you.” She grabs both my hands in hers. “What happened in Fairhope?”
I can feel that familiar stinging in my eyes, coupled with an intense burning in my chest. It’s spreading through my body and settling in my limbs. “Andi happened.”
She gives me a small smile and shakes her head. “You have to give me more than that.”
“She’s in love with me,” I whisper.
Her smile takes over her entire face. “I could have told you that. I still don’t understand what the problem is. Why are you here?”
“Because I can’t love her back,” I whisper, but the burning in my chest increases ten-fold as I say the words. They sound wrong leaving my mouth. They sound like a lie.
“Why?”
Do I really need to spell this out for her?
“Because I’m in love…,” I start, but I can’t finish the statement. I clear my throat. “I love…,” I try again, but it’s not right. I don’t mean it.
I don’t love Goose. I mean, I love her, but I don’t love her. I’m not in love with her.
The notion hits me like a freight train, dead in the center of my chest.
Jesus Christ. Andi was right.
I take one of my hands back and run it through my hair and down my face. “I don’t love you anymore, Lucy.”
“I know that,” she says, squeezing my hand t
hat still rests in hers. “We were always meant to be like this, Miller. Friends. I’ve always known this. I’ve told you countless times, but you don’t listen to me. You should always listen to me. I know what I’m talking about.”
I give her a smile, but let out a weak, shaky breath. “I messed up. I ruined us, and now I’ve ruined me and Andi.”
“Nothing’s ruined. Look at us right now, sitting here, having a civil conversation. We hit a little bump in the road, but we’re working on it. All of this can be fixed. The two of us will be just fine, Miller. I never doubted that. We’ve been best friends our entire lives. I wasn’t going to let anything take that away from us. You and Andi will be just fine, too.”
“I don’t know, Goose. It was pretty ugly. I left her. She said we were done if I left, and I did it anyway. I shouldn’t have run away. I need to stop running away from my life.”
“Tell me what happened,” she says, pulling me from the patio table to the couch that’s on the far end of the deck.
I tell her everything. I don’t start with this morning, though. I start at the beginning, with the night I left Baton Rouge after her father’s funeral. I give it all to her, not leaving any detail out. I tell her about the women and the drinking, and I tell her about Hope. I tell her about Cappy, and how much he reminds me of Thomas. I tell her about Charley. And I tell her about Charlie.
She hears everything about my life with Andi. The night she took care of me when I punched the wall and busted my hand up, the first night I kissed her, the trip back to Louisiana, the night we danced in our field, she hears it all. We laugh, we grimace, and we cry. It takes me hours to get our story out. It’s a cathartic process, and one I desperately need.
It doesn’t take long before I come to the stark realization that I’m in love with Andrea Hope Bankston, and have been for a while.
I need to get her back.
I just have to figure out how.
Chapter Twenty-eight
Andi
I allow myself to remain curled up, lifeless in Miller’s bed, sobbing and broken, for a few hours before I force myself to get up and leave. I can’t stay here. I have to go home and tend to my daughter. I refuse to let myself become the person I did when I lost Charlie. I’m a mother now, and Charley’s needs come before my heartache.
Celeste and Charley are in the kitchen having breakfast when I finally make it back home. One look at me and my best friend knows that my early morning trip to Miller’s apartment did not turn out in my favor. I didn’t give her any details about why I was going over there in the first place, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that things are done between us.
“What did he do?” she asks, the venom seeping through her whisper.
I shake my head. He didn’t do anything. I did this to myself. I knew he didn’t want this, but I just couldn’t keep my damn mouth shut.
“This was all me, Celeste.”
Her face softens as she pulls me into her arms. I push away, gently grabbing the top of her arms. “I can’t do nice from you right now. I’m hanging on by a thread,” I tell her. “If you don’t mind, I’m gonna go take a bath.”
“That’s fine. Cap’s coming to pick up Charley soon for the park. I’ll get her ready.”
I pull my daughter out of her seat and give her the tightest hug I can manage without cutting off her air supply before heading to the bathroom.
A full week passes, and I hear nothing from Miller. Seven entire days of radio silence. Seven of the longest days of my life. I make sure my phone is charged and with me at all times in case he calls, but I hear nothing. I’ve never gone this long without speaking to him. I can’t call him, though. I refuse to be the one to pick up the phone. He left me. He obviously doesn’t want to talk.
Much like I did with the details surrounding my husband’s death, my mind conjures up the most horrible and unimaginable images it can about Miller. I know what happens when he is put in this type of situation. He turns to alcohol and women to help get rid of the pain. I have no idea where he is, what he’s doing, or who he’s doing it with. I can only assume he went running back to Lucy. Everything always boils down to Lucy. As much as it kills me, I hope he’s with her. If he ran back to Lucy, he’s not out drinking and screwing random women. That’s probably the safest place for him to be. Unless, of course, he’s managed to piss off Bennett and he’s killed him. I come close to calling her a few times, but I exercise some self-control and refuse to let myself do it. Instead, I spend my days walking around in a fog, my head pounding, my heart aching, and my stomach in a perpetual knot.
This hurts. Miller leaving me is a hurt so much worse than when Charlie left me. When Charlie left, it was final. I knew that he was never coming back. I knew he was gone and there wasn’t anything I could do about it. Miller chose to leave me. He made a conscious decision to abandon me, despite knowing my feelings for him. He didn’t have to walk out of that door, but he did it anyway. That blow is harder to come to terms with than my husband’s death. Charlie would have never chosen to leave me.
Before he left, I told him we were done if he left. I lied. In fact, I’ve never told a bigger lie. That might make me weak, but I would take Miller back in a heartbeat. I don’t love him any less than I did when he was here with me. Maybe he had to leave. He said he needed space to think. I have to trust that he’s doing what he said, and that he’ll eventually come back to me.
On day eight, Celeste comes into my bedroom and brings me an envelope. There’s no return address, but the messy handwriting across the front is as familiar to me as my own. I reach for it slowly, scared to take it from her hand, like it’s a snake, waiting to strike.
I lean against my headboard and close my eyes, letting the letter fall to the bed. The unyielding ache in the center of my chest has increased, as has the unrelenting pounding in my head.
This is it. He’s ending it. He’s done with me.
I feel the bed sink down beside me. “Open it.”
“No. He’s done.”
Celeste pats my leg. “You don’t know that. If he was done, why bother with a letter? Open it, honey.”
I open my eyes and roll my head towards my best friend. “Are you encouraging this? Coming to his defense? Who are you?”
She smiles. “Crazy, right? Listen, he made you happy. I can admit that maybe I was a tad bit harsh in my judgement of him. Except for this isolated incident, he’s proved not to be a total ass hat. So, I want to see what he’s got to say.” She rubs her hand up and down my leg, giving it a slight squeeze. “However, if that is, in fact, a letter ending things, I will track him down and rip his balls off with my bare hands.”
I smile for the first time in eight days. A genuine smile, not one that’s forced for someone else’s benefit. My fingers quiver as I rip the top of the envelope. Red catches my eye.
I pull out a piece of red construction paper, folded in half. As soon as I take it from the envelope I can see that it’s a heart. My pulse is thumping overtime, my mind replaying the words I shouted at him before he left me.
Hearts are messy. They aren’t cute, neatly cut-out little pieces of construction paper that you give out to people. They are bloody, slippery, squishy, and messy as fuck.
“What is that about?” Celeste asks, confusion dancing across her face.
I’ve told her the gist of what happened at Miller’s apartment that morning, but didn’t go into the details of my rant. Instead of giving her an answer, I open the heart that I’m holding in my shaking hand.
You’ve never been
The one to be
The one to wear what you feel on your sleeve
If I’m the same, then how could we
Get to the place we both know where we need to be
I read over the lines several times, tracing his writing with my fingertips, familiarity dancing along the edge of my mind, but I can’t place the words. Celeste is stumped, as well. I’m just as confused as I was before, but feeling slightly hope
ful that he’s made contact. I just wish I knew what he was trying to tell me.
Throughout the day, I type out texts to him, but chicken out and delete them before I push send. I don’t know what to say to him. Celeste seems to think I should wait and see what happens next. I hope she’s right, and something actually does happen.
The next day, another envelope comes in the mail. Charley and I are in the yard playing when the mailman passes. I absentmindedly flip through the bills, magazines and junk mail as we walk towards the house when I spot it. The rest of the mail falls from my hands and into the grass as I tear open the plain white envelope from Miller. I pull out the heart, no hesitation this time, and unfold the child-like shape to see what it says inside.
I let my heart come undone
Hold onto me before I turn and run
I want to love you
The corners of your heart no one’s been to
I want to know you
Run my fingers in the creases and unfold you
I collapse into the grass, heaving, when it hits me. It’s the song we danced to in the field. God, I remember that night in stunning, vivid detail. It was the first night I ever brought up Miller’s feelings, or denial about his feelings, to him. It was the night I realized that I loved him.
It obviously had an impact on him, too.
Day after day, the hearts arrive, containing snippets of that beautiful song. I want to call him so bad and tell him to come back to me, but I don’t think he wants me to do that. I think he needs to finish sending me these hearts.
The Promise of More: The Home Series, Book Three Page 20
