“Sure.” Though they weren’t a couple, they were still a unit who went to funerals together and had the same address.
She wrote quickly but beautifully before placing the pen down. “Should we go inside?”
He fidgeted with the collar of his shirt, knowing damn well if Mrs. Garrick were alive, she’d tell him to take the stupid dress shirt off. He held his hand out, and Harper slid hers into his without hesitation. There was a red paint smudge on the inside of her pointer, and he ran his thumb along the spot.
Harper’s chest rose and fell as she inhaled deeply. He knew she was trying to find the strength to go inside. He squeezed her hand and that seemed to give her the nudge she needed. She put one foot in front of the other when Isla flew out of the viewing room. Harper whirled around, and Olivia came running out after her.
Without a word, Milo let go of Harper’s hand, knowing she needed to go after Isla. It was just as well. Harper didn’t do well at funerals. The last one they went to together she ran out of the place and hyperventilated in the parking lot. Birdy was a nice woman, but she was ninety-three years old, and Harper wasn’t close with her at all.
Not that Milo did well at these things either. He was uncomfortable around people who showed emotion and in places like this there was an abundance of tears, running noses, and little gasps of air. He always wound up cracking a joke that would be funny under normal circumstances but completely inappropriate for a funeral.
He did best by keeping his mouth shut and avoiding conversation. With Harper at his side, they balanced each other. He held her hand, giving her strength, and she handled the conversations while he smiled, nodded, and only added a few words here and there.
Without her beside him, he felt uneasy. He yanked at the collar of his shirt, convinced the damn thing was trying to suffocate him. He gave up the battle, accepting defeat and attempting to deal with the lack of oxygen.
He made his way into the packed viewing room. Everyone from town was here, crammed into the small space. Mrs. Garrick was loved by everyone and as a staple to the town, this turnout was not unexpected. It was also very well deserved. The woman was a bright spot in many people’s lives.
Hushed conversations rose from the cluster of groups around the room, and Milo nodded his acknowledgement to several people, doing his best to avoid conversation.
There was a line to pay respects, and Milo waited, hands shoved in pockets. Normally he avoided this part, but he owed it to Mrs. Garrick to say his final goodbye.
Five minutes later, he walked away, his heavy heart feeling a bit lighter. She looked good, and he was happy for the final moment he had.
Silently, he’d promised to watch over the girls, and that was exactly what he was heading to do. He hadn’t seen them return since Harper and Livy ran after Isla, and he needed to make sure they were okay. He headed outside and spotted Harper immediately.
It didn’t matter where they were; he could always find her as if his internal radar had her programmed in as home.
The girls sat on the hood of his car. Harper and Liv had their arms around Isla who had tears streaming down her face. Normally he’d hightail it the hell out of there, but he promised Mrs. Garrick he’d watch after Isla. He couldn’t break his promise the first time he was put to the test.
“Why the long faces?” he said as he approached. “You’d think someone died or something.”
Harper shook her head at his bad attempt at a joke, Olivia’s eyes widened and narrowed in on him, but Isla… Isla laughed. It rumbled out of her like a bark and fell into a sweet symphony of uncontrollable giggles.
The joke was horrible, he knew that, and he expected Harper and Livy’s reactions, but he also knew that Isla needed someone to lighten the mood, no matter how inappropriate it was.
Her giggles finally stopped, and she smiled. “Thank you, Mi. I needed that, and I’m sure my grandma is cracking up, too, wherever she is.”
“Why don’t we get out of here?” Milo suggested.
“My family won’t be happy if I take off.”
“You’ll be back. There’s another hour and a half left of this, and let’s be honest… Your grandmother would hate it. People staring at her, crying over her life when they should be celebrating it. Let’s go celebrate it like she’d want.”
Isla’s lips pressed together then swished back and forth. “Let’s go.” She hopped off the hood of the car and got right into the backseat. Harper and Livy followed suit, and Milo got in the driver’s seat. Harper took the passenger seat.
He took her hand and squeezed, meeting her eyes, needing to know that she was okay. She gave him a single nod, and he started the engine, getting the hell out of there.
He imagined if Mrs. Garrick’s spirit was somehow there, she’d have gotten in the car with them, ready for whatever Milo had planned. There was only one acceptable place to go, though. He turned on the road that would bring him to the ocean.
It took only ten minutes to get there, park the car, and head out to the beach. Isla and Liv walked ahead, and Harper fell back, sliding her hand into his, intertwining their fingers. It was the comfort he needed. “You always know the right thing to do,” she said. “She’d been crying from the minute she ran out until the minute you walked up to us. And all it took was you saying one thing, and the tears stopped.” Harper came to a halt, her hold on him tightening, her eyes meeting his. Her hair glistened beneath the sun, tossed by the wind across her face. She tucked the unruly strands behind her ear, and a halfhearted smile toyed at the corner of her mouth. “Thank you.”
“For what? For always saying something inappropriate?”
A slight laugh rumbled up her throat. “No, for being you.”
Milo wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close to him, relishing in the silky warmth of her arm against his hand.
“You guys coming?” Isla’s voice echoed across the beach, her black dress a drastic contrast to the blue skies around her.
Harper tugged on Milo’s arm, and they took off toward their friends. Isla had taken her shoes off and was kicking her way through the washed-up water. Laughs billowed from her, and Milo took a moment to glance up to the now cloudless sky, knowing Mrs. Garrick was looking down on them and voicing her approval at him.
Legs wet, feet covered in sand, the group plopped down on the dry sand, looking out at the ocean. The laughs had faded, the pain and heartache flittering in and out like the wind.
“This sucks,” Isla said. “I tried to prepare for it, but can you ever really prepare for something like this?”
“No,” Milo said. “You can’t.”
“It just hurts so much, and I feel like it’ll never stop.”
Harper tossed her arm around Isla and rubbed her shoulder.
Milo took a deep breath, eyes focusing on the swells of the water. “Life is beautiful, but it can also be impossibly cruel, taking away the people we love and making us live on without them. That’s why we need to focus on those beautiful moments. Remember them, cultivate them, and hold onto them. Don’t think about the pain and heartache; think about all the times your grandma made you smile, made you laugh, made your time with her a moment worth remembering.
“For me, it was the little things like the way she had with words. Her wit was admirable, and she never stopped short of delivering you the hard, honest truth. She did it with sincerity, though. I don’t think that woman had a mean bone in her entire body.”
Isla smiled. “She didn’t.”
“Your grandma is the sand beneath your toes, the seagull in the sky, the waves crashing into the shore. Her memory lives on in all of these things, and whenever you’re feeling sad or miss her, come here. This was always her favorite place, and you’ll feel closest to her here.”
“I do. Thanks for bringing me here.” Isla rested her head against Harper’s shoulder, and Harper caught Milo’s eye over her head. She didn’t say anything… didn’t have to. Milo saw the appreciation in her eyes. The gratitude fo
r taking the reins and saying the right thing.
His heart clenched at the pure beauty she radiated, and he swore he could hear Mrs. Garrick’s voice whisper across his ear. When are you going to tell her?
Chapter 19
It was a slow night thanks to the rain, so Milo decided to swing by the train station to see if anyone needed a ride. Every now and again, he’d come across someone from the city who didn’t think to call ahead of time and would be stranded, waiting for someone to come by.
If no one was here, he was calling it a night and heading home to Harper. Jasper was gone for the weekend, and Milo was looking forward to having the house all to themselves. She’d been sneaking into his bedroom at night after Jasper went to bed, neither was ready to make the declaration even if they weren’t fooling Jasper. Which they weren’t.
He’d made a few comments here and there to Milo, afraid he and Harper’s arrangement could lead to disaster, but Milo just laughed it off. Neither he or Harper were going anywhere, and once he got the courage to tell her how he really felt, he hoped that she’d permanently move to his room.
She could still keep her room if she wanted, but he wanted her in his bed every night. He didn’t want to wait for Jasper to fall asleep and for her to tiptoe in. He wanted to scoop her off the couch in the middle of one of Jasper’s documentaries and carry her off to bed.
Rain pelted his windshield, and he turned the wipers up. With the haze, visibility was at a minimum. He took it slow, not wanting to put himself or anyone else in danger. It was always better to be safe than sorry. His blinker illuminated the night as he turned into the parking lot and drove along the curb.
The last train had departed fifteen minutes ago, and it appeared everyone had found a way out of the rain. Milo continued, ready to head back out when his eye caught a shadow at the far side of the lot.
As Milo drove closer, he could make out the figure of a tall man, hood up, no umbrella. Rain soaked his clothes and dripped from his hood. Milo pulled up and rolled his window down. “Need a ride, buddy?”
The man nodded his answer and quickly yanked on the door handle. “Good evening, sir,” Milo said as the guy climbed into the backseat. “This weather is something else, huh? Been raining since before daybreak and hasn’t let up.”
“Shut the fuck up and do as I say.” The cold press of a gun barrel pushed into the back of his neck. His heart slammed against his chest. Sweat prickled his spine and forehead and every limb became numb. He swallowed, forcing down the fear and tried to focus.
He didn’t survive getting hit by one criminal to be taken out by another. Fighting back wasn’t an option. He wasn’t an idiot, and this wasn’t some movie. “I don’t want any trouble,” he said. “Is it money you want? My wallet is in the glovebox.” He pointed, and the guy forced the gun harder into his neck.
“Don’t move.”
“Okay, okay,” Milo said. “I’m not moving.”
“How much is in the wallet?”
“I don’t know. A hundred bucks maybe.” He didn’t carry cash on him. He had no need for it; everyone accepted debit cards, and his customers prepaid on the app.
“Cheap fuck,” the guy mumbled. “Get it. Now!”
Milo wanted to reach for the wallet and get rid of this guy as quickly as possible, but the last time he moved, the gun became more embedded in his neck. He needed to be smart. He inhaled deeply, forcing down the fear and hoping his voice wouldn’t shake. “Okay. Okay. I’ll get the wallet, but I need to move.”
The gun jabbed harder into his neck. “No funny business, or I’ll blow your fucking head off.”
Tears of terror pricked the back of his eyes. A complicated web of knots twisted his stomach, and the jelly donut he had earlier threatened to come up. He forced it down. Throwing up seemed like a horrible idea right now. The guy had a gun, Milo doubted he’d take pity on him for getting sick.
“N-no funny business. I swear,” Milo said.
He closed his eyes, searching for the strength to get through this. Slowly, with his hands up, he leaned toward the glovebox. A lump formed in his throat, but fear kept him from swallowing it down, afraid it would cause him to make an unnecessary move that panicked his captor.
When he was able to reach the glovebox, he stopped. “I’m going to open it now.”
“Hurry the fuck up.” The man’s voice bordered between a growl and a bark, sending an uneasy chill up Milo’s spine.
His hand shook as he engaged the release. The door fell open, and he grabbed the black leather wallet and held it over his shoulder. “Take it.”
His eyes met the man’s eyes in the rearview mirror, and the dark blue looked as evil as the night sky before a storm. The man snapped his gaze down, but that millisecond was enough for Milo to burn into his memory.
The guy snatched the wallet out of his hand, and Milo didn’t move, afraid any sudden movement would spook this guy and he’d shoot.
Please just go.
The backdoor creaked open, and the pressure of the gun eased on his neck. He sighed a breath of relief when pain radiated in his head. Harper popped into his thoughts. A reel of his favorite moments of her sped through his mind, then as it ended on her beautiful face looking up at him from his bed, the world went black, and she was gone.
Chapter 20
Harper slid into a slinky black baby doll nightgown that left little to the imagination, then lit a few candles. Jasper was gone for the weekend, visiting his brother in Maine, and Harper had every intention of seducing Milo. She never thought sex with her best friend would be so addicting, but here she was, dreaming about the second he’d touch her again, fantasizing about his mouth all over her body, nipping and sucking all of her sensitive spots.
The door opened, and Harper positioned herself on the couch, elbow propped, cheek resting in her palm, chest pressed out, legs bent. She felt like an idiot, but she tried to push the thoughts out of her head and attempted to be sexy.
Milo walked in, hair a disheveled mess, eyes bloodshot, and his smile wiped clear from his face as if it never existed before. A torturous pain pulled at the lines of his face. Harper gave up on being sexy, jumped from the couch, and went to him.
“Oh my God, Milo. What’s the matter?” She blew out the candles and flipped the light switch on. The room flooded with light, and she could see the blank stare in his gaze, the weariness tugging at the edges of his mouth.
He blinked up at her, a pool of hurt in his eyes so deep it drowned her. “I was robbed… at gunpoint.”
Her eyes widened, her stomach twisted, and her arms flung around him on their own accord. She held him close, needing to feel his warmth, needing to know that he was okay, and it was really him standing in front of her.
She pulled back, taking his cheeks in her hands, examining every inch of his face and glancing down at the rest of him. “You’re not hurt, are you?” Her heart battered her chest, fear consuming her. He was right in front of her, her hands on his face, feeling the warmth of his skin, but she could have lost him.
The thought sent ice through her veins, freezing her in place and making it impossible to move. She tried to utter more words, but she couldn’t get them out no matter how hard she tried.
All she could picture was the funeral home and walking up to Mrs. Garrick’s casket, except it wasn’t Mrs. Garrick in the casket. It was Milo. Knots twisted in her stomach, and her fingers trembled against his cheek. A world without Milo wasn’t a world she could live in.
She needed him more than she’d ever allowed herself to admit. She almost lost him once before, and she’d been so grateful she hadn’t. But a few days after Mrs. Garrick’s funeral, she knew how fragile life was. This was the second time Milo was almost taken from her, but what if there was a next time? And what if that next time… She couldn’t think it, but her mind went there anyway.
Air escaped her, and tears pressed against the back of her eyes. She needed to be strong. Milo had been her rock so many times, and now it was he
r turn to step up to the plate and be the solid force he’d always been. Except reality wouldn’t let her. The fear was relentless, wrapping around her gut and squeezing until the room tilted and made her nauseous.
He needed her, and she wasn’t strong enough.
***
Fear built in Harper’s gaze, and tears filled her lids. He didn’t want her to be scared or to cry. He let the curtain fall back into place, he inhaled deeply, and forced a smile on his face. “I’m fine. He just took my wallet.”
He rubbed the back of his head and pain sprung up from the bump he’d gotten when the guy cold cocked him. It was a cheap shot and totally unnecessary, but Milo assumed the guy wanted to buy himself time to get away.
“What happened? Did you call the police? Did he get away? Oh God, is he out there roaming the streets?” Her face paled, and her eyes widened to two oversized saucers.
He rested his hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently. “He’s gone. The police said he was probably just passing through. Once he got my wallet he took off. Probably a drug addict desperate for his next fix.”
She shook her head. “Things like that don’t happen here.”
“There’s a first time for everything. And look at me, the first to pop that cherry.”
She shot him a look. “This is not funny.”
“I’m sorry. It’s been a long day. I’m going to go to bed.” She nodded, and he headed to his room. He caught his reflection in the mirror and stopped, staring at himself. He looked exactly how he did this morning, if not a little worse for wear, but on the inside, he didn’t feel the same at all.
There was a fear of what could have been lingering in his mind. A deep-rooted anger for feeling so helpless and uncertain. His eyes quickly shifted into the criminal’s, and he snapped his attention away from the mirror.
Get it together.
He settled on his bed and dropped his head into his hands. It was a rough night, but he’d been through worse. He got out alive—once again—and that was all that mattered. If the tension in his neck would just let loose and the permanent lump in his throat would dissipate.
All Because I Met You (Morgan's Bay, #2) Page 14
