20. Miles Day
I place ice packs, a couple bottles of strawberry lemonade, a slice of key lime pie I got earlier today, and a can of whipped cream in a small cooler for Ellie. Sutton is wrapping her ankle, and then I’m going to take her back to her house. I’d rather keep her here to make sure she doesn’t have to do anything herself, but I don’t think our relationship is at the sleepover level. Though as many times as I’ve touched her tonight, it might be close.
Taking care of Ellie was like an instinct. When I saw her start to fall on the beach I didn’t think twice before pulling her into my arms. And after that, I didn’t stop until I knew she was comfortable. It’s probably not normal boss behavior to bridal carry your assistant and give her the equivalent of a sponge bath to get the sand off her legs. Her soft, beautiful legs. I’m going to need an ice pack for myself if I keep thinking about that moment.
“You good in here?” Shaw asks as he walks up to where I’m packing the cooler.
“Of course, why wouldn’t I be?”
“Because you’re acting like she’s dying when she just sprained her ankle.” He leans against the counter and crosses his arms. “If you two were dating, I’d chalk it up to love, but…”
“She’s my friend. I’d do the same for you.” I shut the cooler.
“You’d carry me up a flight of stairs then tend to my every need?” he questions, sounding amused.
“Shaw, I’m a little busy right now. You’ll have to jump to conclusions later.”
He smiles and shakes his head. “Denial isn’t your best look. One or both of you is going to get hurt if you keep this up.”
I glare at him as I pull the cooler off the counter. “I’m not in denial. No one is going to get hurt because there’s nothing to be hurt over.”
“Is that so? Because not long ago you were claiming she was just your assistant, and now you’re saying she’s just a friend. If the pattern continues, you’ll be saying she’s just your girlfriend in about two weeks.”
“There’s no pattern,” I grit out. “Now drop it before Ellie hears you.”
“Fine, I’ll stop talking so you can go. Looks like Sutton just finished up.”
I look over to see Sutton leaning down to hug Ellie. They seem to have gotten closer over the course of tonight. It wasn’t long after I got Ellie set up on the couch that everyone came back inside. Sutton brought Ellie a s’more so she wouldn’t miss out, then sat down on the floor and started showing her all of her wedding Pinterest boards.
Jada and Fitz left since apparently Jada hadn’t slept much the night before on account of inspiration for a new collection of paintings hitting at midnight. So that left just Ellie, me, Sutton, and Shaw. While Sutton and Ellie looked at wedding inspiration, Shaw and I watched one of Emmett’s games. It was…nice. Every time I looked at Ellie she seemed happy. Sometimes I caught a rare flash of her smile, or heard her laugh.
When she and Sutton had finished scrolling, they watched the last inning of the game with us. I found out that Ellie’s dad is a huge Nashville Cowboys fan, and I made a mental note to see if I could get Emmett to sign a baseball so she could give it to her dad. As much as he’s a grump, I think Emmett would get it for me if I asked.
I walk over to the couch where Ellie is lounging in my sweatshirt. I bought it when I won my first Masters Tournament. Maybe I should have given her something less sentimental, but I wasn’t thinking when I went into my closet. I knew this one would keep her warm, and maybe a small part of me thought she’d look good in this shade of green. She does.
“I’m going to put this in the car and then come back to get you,” I tell her and she looks up at me with a sleepy smile. My heart skips a beat at the sight.
“Okay, sounds good.”
I quickly take the cooler out to my Bronco, not wanting to leave her alone with my friends for long. Who knows what they’ll try to say while I’m gone.
When I come back inside, Shaw is giving her a hug. My jaw clenches at the sight. Jealousy is irrational for a whole host of reasons, but it still flares up nonetheless.
“It was nice meeting you, Ellie. Hope to see you around in the future.”
“Same to you,” she replies.
“All right, Red, let’s get you home to rest,” I say, cutting off any parting words they might have. It wouldn’t surprise me if Shaw tried to say something at the last minute in order to make my life difficult after he leaves tomorrow.
Thankfully, no one says anything except that they hope she feels better soon. She refuses to let me carry her again, instead opting to lean against me as I walk her out. She gasps when she sees we’re walking toward the Bronco.
“I’ve been wanting to ride in this one since I started here,” she says, making me smile.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” I ask her as I help her in the front seat.
“Because you don’t even let it leave Coastal Cove city limits. I didn’t think you’d want your assistant driving it.”
“None of my past assistants could, but if you want to, you can.”
She beams at me and it steals my breath. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to seeing her smile like this. I’ve seen her smirk plenty, but this genuine of a smile is rare.
“You’re not as awful and pretentious as I thought you were.”
I snort. “Thanks, Red, I’m glad I’ve proven you wrong.”
She laughs as I shut the door and walk around to the driver’s side. When I get in, she’s admiring the tan interior. Or at least I thought she was, until I see her scrunched up face.
“What is it? Did you decide I’m awful after all?”
She rolls her eyes. “I should hate you because of how expensive this had to be. I bet you could buy at least two cottages in my neighborhood for how much this cost.”
I drive out of my garage, pressing a button attached to my keys to close it behind me. “I don’t know about two houses, maybe one and a quarter, considering inflation.”
I can feel the look she’s giving me.
“You’re terrible.”
“Would a terrible person let you drive my one and a quarter cottages priced car?”
“A decent person would, so I suppose you’ve moved from terrible to decent,” she says, sounding like she’s stating a fact.
“And how does one go from being decent to say, great?”
I take a turn onto the road that will lead us to Wave Way.
“That’s a big leap. You’re skipping over pretty nice and good.” Amusement laces her tone. When I look over at her, I see the white of her smile in the dark.
“I’m not interested in anything less than great.”
She hums. “Sounds like you.” There’s nothing mocking in her tone, and it fills me with a sense of pride that she sees me as someone who chases excellence.
“So?” I prod, curious where this conversation will take us.
“To be great, you’d give me the car.”
A surprised laugh bursts out of me. “That’s never going to happen.”
“Well, then you’ll never be great,” she says the way someone in a department store would say sorry, I just work here.
“There’s no alternate path?”
“Nope.” She pops the ‘p’.
“I don’t like this system,” I say as I turn onto Wave Way.
“And I don’t like the economic system that says a guy who plays golf for a living gets to own a vintage Bronco. Did you even go to college?”
I laugh. “I did not.”
She sighs. “Life isn’t fair.”
I stop at a stop sign, giving me the chance to look over at her. She’s wearing a soft smile, her pink lips turned up just barely at the corners. Her hair is up in a hair tie that Sutton made Shaw give her off his wrist. I don’t know why he had one, or why he looked so forlorn at giving it to Ellie, but she’s got it now. A few curls have escaped the bun on top of her head, delicately framing her heart-shaped face. She reaches up to tuck one of them behind her ear, her fingertips barely poking out of my sweatshirt sleeve.
“It really isn’t,” I agree with her under my breath before I turn down her road.
If life was fair, then maybe I would have had parents who showed me the idyllic version of marriage. The version where the couple ends up with gray hair, reminiscing about their life together over coffee. But I suppose even that wouldn’t have made a difference in the long run. I’d have been more apt to date Ellie, but the chances of disaster and divorce are still the same. If it weren”t my parents, it could have been us. That’s just the way it goes, and that is why life is unfair.
I pull up to Ellie’s cottage with the sage green door and dismiss my thoughts. I’m here as her friend, I don’t need to be lamenting over what never was and could never be.
“Give me your keys and I’ll get the door open then come back for you,” I say and she huffs as she pulls her keys out of her pocket.
“I don’t need to be carried again.” She hands me the keys.
“You can hop around like a stubborn flamingo once I’m gone, but until then, I’m carrying you.”
I step out of the truck and grab the cooler before going to her door. The memory of standing at this same door and seeing her drenched with a giant smile cuts through me. How am I going to burn those images from my mind when she eventually moves on? Though she hasn’t told me what they are, I know she has dreams. Those ambitions are going to take her away one day and all I’ll have left is the brief time we spent together. Maybe we’ll stay friends after she quits, but with my schedule it’s unlikely. We’ll probably end up passing each other in town. Wave when one of us walks into the diner or share a smile when we see each other across the bar at Hank’s. The thought makes my heart sink and my stomach hurt.
With a shake of my head, I push open her front door. I’m immediately hit with the sweet scent of fresh blooms. There are flowers everywhere. Her living room is like the beach and a garden intersected right in her home. There’s a pale blue couch with a crochet blanket that resembles fishing net, rattan chairs with shell prints on the cushions, and various shells scattered throughout the bookshelves framing the TV. Her coffee table resembles an old wooden chest, something akin to what a pirate would store their treasure in. And on top is one of many floral arrangements throughout the space. There are mason jars filled with colorful flowers sitting in every window sill, and all of the eclectic vases on her shelves are full as well.
I walk into her kitchen to find a collection of glass bottles and recycled jars with some stems and scissors beside them. Some of the jars have blooms, others don’t. It looks like she abandoned her project right before she came to my house. I set the cooler down by the fridge and smile when I see the photos on the front. The whole door is a collage, with pictures of her, Naomi, Molly, and Archie. As well as some of who I’d guess are her parents, and various snapshots of the beach. It’s clear that she loves her friends and family. I wonder what it would feel like to be loved enough to make it on this fridge.
Don’t be a fool, I chastise myself as I turn to head back to the Bronco. You can never have that.
With that pleasant thought ringing in my mind, I open the passenger side door. Ellie looks at me through half-closed eyes.
“I got so tired all of a sudden,” she murmurs.
“Come on, Red. Let’s get you inside so you can sleep.”
I unbuckle her seatbelt for her, then lift her up bridal style once more. She curls up against me, resting her head on my shoulder. I hope she can’t tell how fast my heart is beating from her being so close. Her windchime greets us with a soft song as I step up onto her porch. I carry her inside, the floral scent mixing with her citrus one, turning into a combination I won’t ever forget. Like a wraith in the night, it’ll haunt me.
“First door on the right,” Ellie says, her lips brushing against my neck. I clench my jaw as tingles erupt from the spot. I need to get out of here and away from her.
I go down the hallway and with some careful maneuvering, I get the door open. As soon as I enter, I regret it. The mix of flowers and citrus is stronger here, and there’s something entirely too intimate about carrying Ellie to bed while she’s wearing my clothes.
As gently as possible, I lay her on her unmade bed. I grab a pillow shaped like a seashell and softly lift her hurt ankle to prop it up. Then I cover her up with the fluffy lavender comforter that was strewn across the foot of the bed. Her red hair stands out even more against the pale purple. She looks ethereal, or maybe fantastical. A fairy sleeping on a watercolor cloud.
“Do you need anything before I leave?” I ask her. There are a few strands of hair on her forehead, and I give in to the urge to brush them back. Her skin is soft under my calloused fingers. I wonder how it would feel beneath my lips.
“No, I’m okay. Thank you, Miles,” she says in a soft tone. My name on her lips almost undoes me entirely, but I force myself to take a step back. To say goodnight and walk out of her bedroom door, then out of her little fairy cottage.
This is for the best, I tell myself, but the words seem hollow. I’m not sure what’s best anymore.