Chapter 3
Miles
My alarm goes off, and I swipe the bar on my phone screen to shut it off before throwing the blankets back and getting out of bed. Light streams in through the curtains, and I tug them open to let even more light in.
There’s an ache as I walk to the bathroom to shower, and I smile to myself as I recall the night.
It wasn’t my first hookup, but it has been a while since I brought someone home.
It was good, even if it was quick and a little awkward at the end.
Though, it’s not that I expected him to stay the night.
I know how hookups go, but the panicking afterward had me worried.
I keep wondering if he made it home okay.
The chemistry was there, and he did everything just right. Not to mention he’s hot as hell. Ten out of ten would do it again. I’m just pretty sure that’s not an option. He was clear about his intentions.
Hookups have never been my thing, and I’m still not sure they are, but it’s better than using my hand all the time.
I’ve dated over the years and had one long-term relationship that ended very badly—though in comparison to the relationship, the break-up was a breeze.
I’m trying to get out there more, live my life and be a normal twenty-nine-year-old guy—problem is, I can be awkward and shy, and not everyone likes that.
But it’s how I ended up at the bar, because, like I said, alcohol makes me brave, and if I want to put myself out there, I need to try.
Last night was me trying. I’d say it went pretty well for the first attempt.
I run through my morning routine to get ready for work. Brush my teeth. Shower. Shave. Style my hair—the hopeless mop that it is. Get dressed. I grab my coat and my messenger bag and head downstairs to have breakfast with Audrey and Noah.
“Uncle Miles!” Noah shouts, leaping into my arms as I step into the living room. He’s still dressed in his favorite fire truck pajamas—the set that is almost see-through from the number of times it’s been washed.
“Noey!” I catch him and hug him tight, smelling his strawberry-scented blond hair—the hair color that runs deep in the Montgomery family DNA. Nothing seems to alter it, even when others bring in their dark-haired DNA, like our mother did. “How’d you sleep?”
“Good.”
“No more monsters?”
“Nope. Not since you casted that spell.”
“It’s just cast, Noah. Cast the spell.”
“But it’s past tens.”
“Past tense. And I know, but that’s the English language for you.”
I carry him into the kitchen, where Audrey is plating pancakes.
“I hope you made me chocolate chip,” I say, putting Noah down so he can sit for breakfast.
Audrey’s kitchen table is more worn than mine, since I eat down here more than she comes upstairs. They’re both round and seat four, but mine is a lighter wood compared to this dark one.
A lot of our furniture is the same just in different colors. We shopped together when we bought the house, and we have similar tastes in style, just not so much in color. Though, her excuse for going darker is to hide the stains and spills from Noah. Smart thinking.
“Can I have coffee today, Mom?” he asks.
“Not today, Noah.”
“Maybe tomorrow?”
“Maybe in ten years,” I say. “How about some orange juice?”
“No, it’s too orange.”
“Too orange, huh?” I give Audrey a look. She shrugs as she brings two plates to the table.
“So, what are you drinking then, Noah? Come on, you guys have to eat and be off,” she says in her I didn’t get enough sleep tone. “You can’t make Uncle Miles late for work.”
“Coffee,” he says.
“Not an option. Try again.” She cuts his pancakes and drizzles syrup on top.
I go to the fridge, pulling the door open and looking over the options.
There are five different bottles of juice in here, all that’re missing only a cup or two.
Noah will try things, but he’s very judgmental about them.
Like how orange juice is suddenly too orange…
Which is funny, considering his issue with apple juice is that it isn’t the color of an apple.
“Well, I’m having this delicious white grape juice right here.” I take out the unopened jug. “Because it’s my favorite, and it’s so good, and—”
“I want that!” Noah shouts excitedly.
I wink at Audrey as I bring the jug to the table and fill Noah’s fire truck mug. I got it for him for Christmas a couple of years ago. It’s a plain white mug with a picture of a fire truck on it, and his name underneath. Made me the coolest uncle ever—even if I am his only uncle.
“So, who was it?” Audrey asks, brushing her hand over her messy blonde hair as she takes a seat at the table between Noah and I, who sit across from one another.
“Who was what?” I ask, cutting a sizable chunk of extra chocolatey chocolate chip pancakes.
“The guy you brought home last night.”
“How do you know I brought someone home last night?” I take the bite, moaning at how good it is. Chocolate is the best. It’s good on everything. And Audrey makes the fluffiest pancakes.
She rolls her eyes, sipping from her #1 Mom mug Noah picked out for her when he was two. Audrey won’t eat a thing before ten am. Says it upsets her stomach. I think she’s just always too busy taking care of Noah that she can’t think of taking care of herself when he’s around.
“You know I wait up for you when you go out. Heard two sets of feet going up the stairs.”
“Oh, I got a dog.”
She slaps my arm. “Knock it off, Miles.”
I chuckle as I cut another bite.
“Just some guy I met at the bar. Nothing serious.” Her eyes narrow. “It wasn’t.”
“You’re sure it wasn’t—”
“No,” I say quickly, cutting her off. “And I don’t want to hear his name, so don’t say it.”
“I wasn’t going to say it.”
Audrey is stuck on me going back to my ex, Derek.
Not because she wants me to but because I did so many times before.
But I’ve learned my lesson. I’m done with assholes, and Derek wears the asshole crown.
I won’t make that mistake again, certainly not with him.
It took me a long time and a lot of nights crying myself to sleep to see how bad he was for me.
Audrey worries, but she doesn’t need to.
Derek is never going to be a problem for me again.
I take another bite, one that’s way too big for my mouth, but I shove it in anyway.
“Oh my God, you make the best pancakes,” I mumble through a full mouth.
“Tell me about him.”
I grin, chewing my food. “He’s a firefighter, and he’s so hot. Like… think of what a hot firefighter would look like, and that’s JJ.”
“JJ? Does that stand for something?”
“I’m sure it does, but he wouldn’t tell me what.”
“He wouldn’t tell you?” She frowns.
“Said he’d have to kill me.”
“So, this guy threatens to kill you, and you bring him home?” she asks, giving me an are you serious look.
“Audrey,” I groan.
She laughs.
“I’m all done, Mom,” Noah announces.
“You drink all your juice?”
“Yep,” he says, grabbing his mug and tipping it upside down. A few drops fall out, but otherwise it’s empty.
“Good job. Go get dressed,” she tells him.
He scurries off to get ready for the day.
“You know I’m working today, right?” she says, getting up to bring Noah’s dishes and her empty coffee mug to the sink.
“You know you worry too much, right?” I counter.
“I’m just making sure someone will be with Noah.”
“We share a calendar, Audrey. I know when you’re working.”
I get up, sliding my dishes into the sink and yanking on her ponytail.
“Knock it off, Miles,” she scolds, swatting at me.
I laugh and lean against the counter.
“I don’t think I’ll see him again, so you don’t have to worry about it.”
“Wasn’t worried.”
“You’re always worried.”
She rolls her eyes.
“I’m just saying,” I continue. “The guy has a lot of baggage, and I think last night was a one and done. A way for him to let off some steam. That’s all.”
“And you’re okay with that?” She raises a brow.
“Maybe you should be okay with that. Getting laid once in a while may be good for your emotional state.”
“My emotional state is fine.”
“I’m ready!” Noah shouts, barreling into the kitchen like a bat out of hell.
“As fine as it’ll be with the most rambunctious seven-year-old in all of Chicago,” she mutters in a high-pitched tone.
Audrey isn’t miserable, but she could be happier. She’s an over-worked, underpaid single mother. I know she’s happy, and I help out as much as I can, but she wants more. And I don’t blame her for that because so do I. Yet… we’re just stuck in this routine with each other.
“Do you have your backpack?” I ask.
“Shoot. No.” He growls, taking off at a run back to his room.
“And your shoes are on the wrong feet!” I call.
Audrey shuts off the water and turns to face me, drying her hands on the sunflower hand towel. Her eyes are the same shade of blue as mine, same as our mother’s. Audrey is a spitting image of her, other than the hair color, while I look more like our father.
“Thank you, Miles.”
“Don’t get sappy on me, Audrey. I will throw up.”
“Oh, please.”
“Okay, I’m ready to go, Uncle Miles!” Noah yells as he comes sliding back into the kitchen, almost overturning a chair.
“Did you fix your shoes?”
“Yes.”
“You have your homework?”
“Yes.”
“And your lunch?”
“Trick question! I eat school lunch. Ha-ha!”
I pat his head. “Thatta boy. Good paying attention.”
I wink at Audrey over my shoulder as Noah and I head out.
“Enjoy your day, sis!”
“You too! Love you both!”
“Love you!” we call back in unison.
We make our way outside, toward my car that’s parked beside Audrey’s. We both have Honda Civics, but mine is white, and hers is black. It’s a good car that doesn’t look like trash.
“Can I sit in the front?”
“No,” I say.
“Ugh, fine,” Noah complains dramatically, then yanks open the back door. I watch to make sure he buckles right, and then I get into the driver’s side and start the car.
“You didn’t use the remote start,” he complains, crossing his arms.
“Sorry. I’m old and my memory isn’t as it used to be.” I glance at him in the rear-view mirror. “Maybe you can remind me tomorrow.”
I turn on the radio and change it to the station he likes, and back out of the driveway.
“Can we drive by the fire station today?” he asks.
I glance at the clock to make sure it’s early enough.
“Yes, we can,” I say. “We have time.”
“Yay!”
Driving by the firehouse is out of the way, but it only tacks on five minutes.
I try to do it as often as I can. Some days we’re running late and it’s not possible, and the traffic in the afternoon makes it too much of a hassle, but it makes Noah happy.
Setting him up for a good day is important, and if that means driving five minutes out of my way, I’ll do it.
The station is located on a street that isn’t typically busy in the mornings. Across from it is a large park and playground. I take Noah there in the warmer months so he can play and watch the trucks.
“There’s no traffic,” I say as we come up on the block. “That means…”
“You get to go slow!”
I laugh as we drive five MPH by the fire station, so Noah can get a good look at the trucks. The doors are down, so they’re hard to see, but just being in their proximity is good enough for him. I feel his excitement filling the car.
“Look, a firefighter,” I say, pointing to a man walking from his car to the building.
I assume he’s a firefighter by the black sweatshirt with a red shield logo on the breast. He has a large duffel hanging off one shoulder that also looks like it could have a shield logo on it.
Noah knocks on the window and waves frantically. The guy looks over at the car, confused. He smiles when he sees Noah waving like a maniac.
But then his gaze lands on me, and—shit.
I whip my gaze back to the road as my entire body erupts in goosebumps.
That’s the guy from last night.
“Damnit,” I grumble, pressing on the gas. “Okay, buddy, say bye to the firehouse,” I ramble quickly.
“But you went too fast,” he pouts.
“We’ll come back another day,” I promise. “We’re going to be late for school,” I say. Then I mutter to myself, “Talk about awkward.”
I pull into the staff lot less than ten minutes later. Noah gathers his things, and we make our way inside to my classroom, where he usually hangs out until it’s time for him to go to his own class.
“You want to help me grade these papers?” I ask, waving the stack at him.
“Okay!” He drops his bag and coat into the corner and skips over. I hand him some papers and a red marker.
“All you have to do is see if the colors are right,” I say, pointing to the pictures. “If they are, they get a big smiley face.”
“And if they’re wrong?” he asks.
“We put a small smiley face.”
“I can handle that,” he says firmly, then gets to work.
I smile as I watch him check every paper diligently, making sure the carrots are orange and the water is blue.
It’s not common for kindergarteners to have graded tests, I know that, but they think it’s fun.
Makes them feel like big kids. So, every now and then, I’ll give them a worksheet and tell them it’ll be graded.
They get a kick out of it. What I don’t want to do is make them feel discouraged, which is why everyone gets a smiley face, no matter what.
Because they tried their best. I will, however, keep an eye on who needs help and work with them extra to get it right next time.
“Okay, Noey, time to get to class before you’re late.”
“But I have two left,” he says, brow furrowed as he looks down at the papers intensely.
“Can you do them quickly?”
“Yep!”
He goes over them fast, then caps the marker and hands it back.
“Do you want me to walk you over?”
“No, I can do it myself, Uncle Miles. I’m a big kid.”
I chuckle. “Okay, tell Mr. Carpenter I said hi.”
“Kay!” He grabs his coat and bag, then walks out of my room with his head held high, turning in the completely wrong direction.
I shake my head and get up. By the time I make it to the door, he’s racing by in the opposite direction, holding tight to his backpack straps so it doesn’t bounce. I laugh, and wait there for all my little students to hurry in.