Chapter 48
FORTY-EIGHT
I wake up to Miles already awake, lying on his back, staring at the ceiling in that particular way he does when he’s thinking through something.
He doesn’t notice I’m up yet, so I have time to appreciate his profile.
Last night he’d kissed me, sweet and slow, and that was enough.
He was out before I finished pulling the blanket up.
I took his glasses off and lay there, grateful, until Gracie purring at our feet and his steady breaths pulled me under too.
“Hey.” He looks over, and whatever was on his face a second ago clears. He rolls toward me. “How’d you sleep?”
“Better question.” I prop myself up. “How are you?”
He tucks my hair back. “Ready to stop thinking about it.”
“Okay.” I sit up. “Then let’s go do something.”
His lips curve. “Already ahead of you.”
“Shouldn’t I be the one surprising you? Trying to cheer you up?” comes out of my mouth approximately an hour later, a red bandana covering my eyes as Miles drives us somewhere he won’t tell me.
“You’re here. That’s all I need.”
I tilt my head in his direction and reach out. He captures my searching hand and places it in his lap. “How’re you feeling?” I ask softly.
“Sore and tired, but otherwise great.”
“You know that’s not what I mean.” I brush my thumb across his palm.
“We’ll get it next year. You’ll run out into the ice, and I’ll spin you around and kiss you in front of the whole arena.” His lips press to my knuckles.
“I like that plan.”
“Me too.” I can hear the smile in his voice.
“Will you tell me where we’re going now?”
“No can do.” He laughs. “You better get used to surprises, Summer Starling. You’ve got a lifetime of them coming.”
My chest squeezes tight. A lifetime. I turn that over in my mind and find it fits. “Is that right?”
“Mm-hmm.”
I need to see his face. I go to tug at my blindfold, but my hand is captured by his. “Don’t you dare take that off.”
“You can’t say stuff like that and expect me not to wanna see you.”
Another chuckle. “We’re almost there. Hold your horses.”
A breeze blows through the open windows, something floral and earthy in the air.
“We’re not going horseback riding, are we?” I catch my bottom lip between my teeth. “I guess I could maybe—”
“Don’t worry. No horses. Cash told me you weren’t a fan.”
My lips tip up. Somewhere between the playoff party and going on tour, Cash stole Miles’s number from my phone. Cash tried to get in on the “good luck” tradition, but after that resulted in a Saints’ loss in Round 2, he was banned from texting Miles on game day.
“At least tell me how much farther.”
“We’re almost there.” His hand tightens around mine. “How long are you in town for?”
“Nowhere near long enough. I’ve got tomorrow off and then I have to head back for a show in New Mexico.”
He’s quiet, but I imagine he’s nodding.
I tilt my head toward the open window right as he asks, “Can I come with you?”
“Why are we having all these conversations when I can’t see a thing?” My voice rises. “Yes, of course you can—but you’re going to what? Come on tour with me?”
More silence. “Sounds about right.”
I let out a breath. “Of course you did.”
“If you wanted me to, I could—”
“I want you to. I just thought… I don’t know. Tours aren’t as glamorous as you might think. I’m not sure I’d choose to spend my only time off on one.”
“I want to be wherever you are, Starling.” He moves his hand to rest on the nape of my neck.
I swallow. “Is now a good time to tell you I broke my lease in Nashville… Surprise, I’m moving in.”
There’s a pause. Without being able to see him, it feels longer.
“Oh, you thought I was going to let you leave—” He chuckles. “Okay, no, that sounded creepy… What I’m trying to say is that makes me happy. You make me happy, honey.”
I want so badly to see him.
I feel the car slow, gravel pinging against Miles’s truck.
“Okay, you can take it off.”
I waste no time, pulling it down so it’s looped around my neck. I glance over at him. He already looks pleased with himself.
I lean across the center console and he meets me, his lips finding mine. I draw back just enough to murmur, “I’d love for you to come with me.”
His thumb brushes my jaw. “And I’d love for you to stay.”
My eyes sting, so I kiss him again before he can see them.
When I pull back, I finally look out the windows. Something on my face makes him laugh, deep and warm, and I decide maybe he can even make this place romantic.
The familiar thwack of the metal Airstream door carries across the open field, and I raise a hand out the window at Boone. Miles does the same, but he keeps driving.
“Is he gonna shoot us for trespassing?”
“Nah, he knows.”
I think I catch a little lift of Boone’s lips before he’s out of sight. Okay, now I’m even more curious. If he approves, it must be good.
“Are you gonna record a song with me?” I smile.
He looks over at me. “Christ, no. Can you imagine?”
“I think you can be taught.”
“While I appreciate the confidence, I’m going to leave the musical talent to you, honey.” He continues driving past the studio-slash-barn.
I’ve never been this far back onto the property. Boone’s got more land than I realized. Past the studio, the land opens up into wildflowers in every direction. Just ahead of us, another structure, lower and wider than the barn, sits at the edge of the field.
The truck creeps to a stop. I’m still looking at the flowers when Miles cups my jaw, then kisses me soundly.
When he eases back, his gaze darts between my eyes. “I love you.”
“I know.” I grin.
“If you don’t like anything we can change it.”
My brows pull together, but before I can ask, the creak of a garage door opening pulls my attention. It reveals a Bronco—same body, same lines as Betty, but restored. Resurrected is more like it. Even in my wildest dreams, I didn’t think she’d look this good.
“Is that—”
“As much of her as possible, but with a few upgrades. Do you like the color?”
I hop out, and Miles follows, rounding the truck.
I walk toward her slowly, hand reaching out before I’m close enough to touch.
The paint is a creamy tangerine, somehow more perfect than anything I would’ve picked myself.
The rust spot above the rear wheel well is gone.
The dents, the chips, the three decades of wear—all of it gone.
But the bones are still Betty’s. Still exactly her.
“It’s perfect. But how?”
He pulls me back against his chest. “Betty was a bit… old, so the insurance company let me keep her even though she was totaled. I found a restorer back in February. He’s been working on her since.”
“Since February?” That’s almost five months. While I was in LA. While he was in the playoffs.
“She was in rough shape. But now she’s practically new.”
“Miles—” My voice cracks.
“Don’t worry about it.”
I spin, loop my arms around his neck, and rise onto my toes. “Thank you. This is the third best thing you’ve ever given me.”
A huff escapes him. “Is that right? What’re the other two?”
“Well, first, is you, of course. Closely followed by that notepad and pen.”
“Summer, this is much better than that.”
I shake my head. “Okay, maybe they’re tied. That one said I believe in you, and this one says I love you.”
He shakes his head. “Only you.”
I close the last remaining inch and kiss him. “Can I drive her now?”
He reaches into his back pocket and places a new set of keys in my open palm.
I climb in. The hinges don’t squeak anymore. The interior is clean, the dashboard all glossy screens and new finishes. It smells like leather, but underneath it all, still, somehow, like Betty.
Miles folds himself into the passenger seat.
I look up, then over at him. “Does the whole roof open?”
“Yep.” He pushes a button, and the fabric neatly folds back, revealing a cloudless blue sky. I didn’t think it could get any better. He rests a hand on my thigh. “Ready?”
I face forward, hands on the wheel, wildflowers stretching out ahead of us.
“Yeah,” I say. “Let’s go.”