7. Chapter 7
Chapter 7
Milo
We’re in a getaway car, driving into the night, laughing like a bunch of fools.
Once Rose made sure I wasn’t injured or anything—my jaw’s sore, but I’m fine—she started laughing and hasn’t been able to stop. She has mascara running down both sides of her face. In the interest of paying attention while driving, I’m mostly keeping it together, but I can’t help laughing with her.
She reaches up and takes the big clip out of her hair and her dark locks tumble down her back. When she shakes her head and drags her fingers through a section to smooth it down, I swear she embodies every woman in every fantasy I’ve ever had.
I clear my throat and focus again on the road—and my throbbing jaw.
“So, where are we headed?” I ask when she’s managed to stop laughing.
“How should I know?” she says before giggling again. Now she’s got the hiccups.
“You jumped in my car. I thought you had an agenda.”
She gasps. “He hit you. Blaine totally punched your face!” She leans forward and grabs my chin again, turning my face to look at her.
“I gotta drive here, Rose,” I say before moving out of her grasp, unable to contain a small smile.
“Sorry.” She gulps and then hiccups again. “And sorry he hit you.”
“His was more like a little love pat. I was the one who hit him.”
She nods sagely. “Oh. Got it.” Her voice is somber before another laugh escapes. “Are you sure you’re not hurt?” She smacks her forehead. “Gosh, I cannot believe that just happened.”
“I’m completely fine. He had it coming. I’m not one to pick a fight but if someone hits me . . . well. I didn’t have all those older brothers for nothing.”
“Is that why you throw such an expert right hook?”
“That’s exactly why.” I lift my hand from the wheel and flex my fingers, in and out of making a fist. They’re starting to feel sore, too.
I’m driving on I-70 and have no idea why or where we’re going. All I know is I’m having way too much fun with Rose to stop now. Another thought stills my laughter. “I don’t like the idea of you going back there. When’s your next shift?”
“Monday. He’ll be calmed down by then.”
“Rose. This isn’t okay. You shouldn’t have to put up with the things he does.”
She sighs, for the first time since getting in the car, she’s serious. “I know. And it won’t be much longer. You don’t need to worry. His bark is worse than his bite.”
“Why do you defend him?” I don’t mean to be accusatory, and my voice is soft. But I can tell I’ve hit a nerve.
She sighs and studies her lap. “Can you just let me out, please?” she asks abruptly.
I laugh. “What if he’s following us? I can’t just let you out.”
“I’d like to get out of the car now.” She rests a hand on the door handle.
My heart rate increases as I realize I really have struck a nerve and hurt her feelings. I take the next exit and ease the car to a stop at a red light. “I’ll stop if you want me to, but I’m not going to leave you somewhere random like this.”
She just bunches her mouth tighter and stares out the window.
“I’m sorry for being so frank with you, but under the circumstances . . .” I point to my chin. “I think I have the right to be concerned for you.”
She sighs and rubs her eyes, seeming to realize for the first time that her mascara is smeared. She pulls the visor down and stares in the mirror, running her fingertips along the blackened streaks and groaning in frustration.
“You do, after being hit by him, I guess. Look, I’m sorry you got caught in the crosshairs of my employment drama. I really am. Can you please let me out so I can take an Uber to my car and go home?”
“I’m not going to let you out here. It’s past eleven. There’s no way.”
“Milo,” she warns. “I can’t believe all the trouble I’ve caused you. Please.”
“It hasn’t been any trouble, it’s been . . . amazing. I’ve had a great time with you.” I pause, flipping on the turn signal to drive another block. “I’ll take you back to your car, but can I stick around long enough to make sure you’re okay? To make sure he’s not still waiting around for you?”
“Yes,” she whispers, and the sigh she gives is low. Bone deep.
“Is he . . . is he your ex or something?” I ask quietly as I do a U-turn when the traffic clears.
“How’d you guess?” Her tone is dry and sarcastic, but there’s a hitch there. This is a painful subject.
I can’t explain why, but now I’m wishing I’d hit him harder. Or followed it up with another one to the gut.
Maybe they just broke up and she hasn’t had time to find a new job? Maybe that’s why she seems to be a glutton for punishment. In any case, she was right about this being complicated.
Halfway back to Casa del Cibo, she places a hand on my arm. A pallor of uneasiness simmers in her eyes for a brief moment, and then she smiles wryly. “Want to go play?” She points to the park off to the left.
Relief floods me. I didn’t want this night to end yet. So much has happened that it would seem wrong to part ways now. It would be like losing a beloved novel halfway through reading it and never being able pick it up again. No resolution.
Without a word, I slow and signal to turn. I’ve barely put the car in Park when she pushes the door open and squeals. “Race ya!”
Running ahead of me, her hair down and flying, her sensible waitress shoes clopping along the wood chips, she’s laughing again.
She grabs the chains of a plastic-bottomed swing and slings herself down into it. It’s so low to the ground that her knees press tightly together and hunch up. She rests the chain against her shoulder so she can remove the hair out of her face.
She’s gorgeous, and I have to remind myself not to stare.
I grab the swing next to her and find the seat is only attached to one side of the chain.
“I’ll give you a turn when I’m done,” she says.
“It’s fine. I haven’t gotten on a swing in years. I’d probably accidentally hang myself.”
“It’s been years, huh?” She presses her lips closed for a moment and then opens them to continue. “How old are you?”
I chuckle and fold my arms over my chest, facing her as she walks the swing forward and back. “Almost twenty-five. And you?”
She hesitates. “Just barely turned twenty-five. This has been a crazy night, huh?”
“It has.” I wait until she meets my gaze. I survey her. She looks vulnerable sitting there. “I’d love to learn more about you, Rose. Tell me about yourself.”
When she scoffs, I whisper and beg, “Please?”
“Not with you standing there, staring at me. I feel like a little kid like this.” She rocks forward and back on the balls and heels of her feet. “This swing will probably make my back hurt, but I’m enjoying it until then.”
“I can push you, if you want.”
She levels her stare. “No. No way.”
I hold up my hands. “Okay. Understood. No pushing you in swings. I’ll just use this one.” I move to pretend like I’m climbing into the baby swing on the other side of her, grabbing the chain and pulling it toward me.
“I’d like to see you try.” Her laugh is good-natured. “You ever been to this park before?”
“Nope. It’s my first time. You?”
“I actually have. I grew up in the neighborhood one over from here. My siblings and I used to come here sometimes.”
“Aw. Little kid Rose. I can see it now. Did people call you Rosie?”
The corner of her tongue flicks out of the side of her mouth. “Sometimes, but I shut that down when I turned eighteen.”
I let go of the baby swing’s chain. “What did you do after you graduated high school?”
“I got a scholarship to CU Denver but had to work for a year to save money for food and books. Finally got there when I was nineteen.”
“And you knew you wanted to go into nursing at that point?”
“No. I was good at science, so I thought I’d work in a lab after graduation. Then some hard things happened in my family. A family member got sick and eventually passed away.” She nods, her gaze on the wood chips beneath her. “That whole experience made me want to be a nurse.“
“I admire that. As you know, I’m still not exactly sure what I want to do with my life.”
It’s a lie, but I’m not about to tell Rose that I dream of writing epic fantasy novels for a career. I haven’t told anyone.
She shrugs. “You have to realize that I’m coming at this from a place of total naiveté. No one in my family has ever graduated from college before, besides me. I don’t know what it’s going to take to get a degree in nursing, I just know that it’s what I want. And I’m stubborn, so . . .”
“You were the first one to graduate from college?” I can’t explain why, but a feeling of pride surges through me. She keeps getting more and more amazing the more I get to know her.
She nods. “We Hawkinses are proudly blue-collar. And a touch unlucky.” She pauses, deep in thought. “But I always wanted something different. Even when I was a little girl.”
I lie on the grass in front of her and stretch my legs out, resting on my elbows. The air smells of freshly-mown grass. The traffic in the distance emits a low hum. I find myself wishing I could be under a Longdale sky with her. The stars over Longdale are some of our best-kept secrets.
“You’re going to go places, Rose. I can feel it.”
She gazes at me, a slow smile starting to curve her lips. “What about you? You have two job offers, but you don’t want either one.”
“I never said that.”
“Am I wrong?” she challenges, her brows high.
I deliberate how much to say. “I do want to work with my family. That’s a dream come true for me. Both jobs would be working for family members.”
“But you don’t want to do the type of work they need?”
“Not exactly. I am grateful for the opportunity. I really am. I realize how fortunate I am, which is why I’m more than willing. Not everyone gets to do exactly what they want for a career.”
“That sounds like my mom and siblings’ beliefs.”
“Do they support your dream of becoming a nurse?”
She snorts. “I don’t want you to get the wrong idea about my family, because they’re amazing. But they’re also realists. They’ve been through a lot—we all have. And they want to protect me.”
“Protect you from what?”
“I don’t know. Disappointment? Imminent failure? Being strapped to student loans for a long time? I mean, I have a scholarship, but that won’t cover everything, and I can’t have a job much of the time I’m doing coursework.”
“I’m sure they love you and want the best for you. But despite all the obstacles you’ve had, you can still do this.”
“You sure about that?” She traps her bottom lip with her teeth.
“Yes. So what if you’re not starting the nursing degree right out of high school? It’s okay to be a little . . . non-traditional.”
“You have no idea how non-traditional,” she says under her breath before meeting my gaze. “But thanks for the vote of confidence.”
I take a deep breath and sit, pulling up my legs and resting my forearms on my knees. Why not just go for it, right? It’s worth a try. “Rose, can I see you again? Like, take you out on a date?”
Her deep breath mimics mine. “I’m not in a position to date right now, Milo. But I’m flattered.”
I swallow hard and nod. “Okay. I want to ask you why, but I won’t push you.”
“Can you trust me on this? My life is far too complicated.” She brightens in a smile. “Milo, you’re a very handsome man. Please know that, in another life, I would have attacked you in a kiss by now.”
“Oh, really?” I’m aware my response is flirtatious, so I laugh. “Somehow that’s not much consolation, though.”
She rubs her eyes and sighs again. “Let’s not ruin this night, though. I’ve enjoyed my time with you immensely. I think you’re amazing.”
“Thanks, but you’re the amazing one here.”
“Oh stop!” She laughs. “Look. Let’s just have this one night of fun. Platonic fun,” she amends.
“Don’t worry. I don’t kiss on a first date.”
She eyes me with a disbelieving scowl.
“I’m serious. I don’t.”
“Okay, good. Not that this is a date. You have to understand that I’m unavailable
for anything after tonight, but let’s live it up. We’ll go play cards where I’ll beat you soundly in rummy, and then we can go make some crafts with tons of glitter and glue . . .”
“Crafts, huh? I like it.”
“And then maybe we can eat some more ice cream.”
“And you can throw away the tip of the cone?”
“Of course.”
“Why do you—”
“It’s silly,” she interrupts. “And doesn’t matter. The point is, you and me are going to have a ton of fun tonight. Case closed.”
When I don’t respond, she step-swings forward, brings her leg up and taps me gently on my shoulder with the toe of her shoe. “Do we have a deal? One last night of fun before you become a stuffy, boring old businessman?”
“Oh, okay. That’s how it is?”
Her laughter bubbles out of her. “What? You’re going to become a businessman. Unless you decide to go for your dreams. Like I am.”
“Going for my dreams would be a huge risk.”
“Sure it is. Big dreams often are. Milo, I have you sort of figured out.”
At that comment, my stomach sours. If she figures out how much I like her . . .
“I know there’s something that makes you light up inside when you think of it,” she says. “Something that you want to do for the rest of your life.”
“How come you know so much about me?”
“You said it yourself.” She raises a shoulder. “I’m smart.”
“That you are.” I lean back on my hands and look at the sky. “You’ve given me a lot to think about, Rose.”
“Good. But enough thinking now. Let’s play. Except, we have to make one more thing clear. You can’t come to the restaurant to try to see me.”
“What? You’re forbidding me from going back to my favorite Italian place?”
Her expression is somber. “I realize that’s unfair. But it’s for the best. At least while I’m working there. I work most Friday nights. Mondays all day. And then Tuesday and Wednesday nights and the day shift on Thursdays. But I’m trying to quit. I am quitting,” she amends. “So then you could go whenever you want. I know you love the food.”
“I don’t think I can stay away.”
“That will break our agreement. If you can’t do this, if you can’t handle our fancy night of fun, then I’ll have to say goodbye to you now.”
I scrub my face. I do not want to just walk away from her. Not now, and not tomorrow, either. “Can I ask why?”
“We both know what this is.”
“We both know what this is?” I repeat while staring into her eyes. “I don’t.”
She just glares and shakes her head. She tilts her head back and takes in the sky.
“From my perspective,” I say. “It’s two people who have no reason not to continue their friendship moving forward. See where this thing goes. What’s the harm in that?”
“Milo, I can’t do that. We come from vastly different backgrounds. My life is very complicated. And I’m going away to school.” She pauses to take a deep breath. “Please trust me when I say I can’t have a friendship or more than friendship with you.”
Rejection. It hits my gut so swiftly, I nearly gasp. I manage not to, but my heart thuds in my ears.
I’ve dated some, and I’ve been rejected by some. But nothing’s ever felt like this.
“I agree to your terms,” I say. “But only because you’re making me. But I have to know: are you sure you’re into me?”
“What?” Her bottom lip drops open.
“You said in a different life—”
“You’re handsome and kind and intelligent. You have a successful family.”
“And a nice body, admit it.”
Her hazel eyes sparkle. “Fine. I can admit it. You have a nice body. But we can’t see each other after tonight.”
“I understand. I just want to be very clear in my memories that we had something, if only for one night.”
“Ooh. Dramatic. I like it.” She grins. “But yes. If circumstances were different, I’d totally go for it.” She drags her gaze up and down me, her eyes challenging me. “Remember, you can’t come see me. Don’t make it weird.”
I chuckle. “I won’t.”
“You want a turn swinging?”
I grab the red, bucket-shaped baby swing and read the permanent tag. “For ages six months to three years. Might work.”
She stands from her swing, letting it hit softly against her legs before joining me. She sighs. “This one is a different material than others I’ve seen.” She squeezes the smooth, padded surface. “This is not the baby swing of yesteryear, Milo.”
“How do you know so much about swings?”
She hesitates and clears her throat. “I don’t know, because they certainly didn’t have this when I was coming here with my sisters. This is an upgrade.”
I tug on the chains a couple of times, wondering if it could hold my weight. “Hey, this is actually a decent size.”
She inhales and holds up a finger. “No. Do not try to get in this swing.”
I shrug. “I’m not going to actually get in. I know ‘baby got back.’ My butt’s way too big for this, and I’m not ashamed to admit it.” I make a show of craning my head to measure my posterior visually. She laughs. “But I could sort of stand on the top rim and crouch down and bend at the knees. Then you and I could swing side by side.”
Her brows go in the air. “Like we’re an old married couple sitting on a porch swing in the twilight of our lives?”
“Exactly.”
She snorts. “Go ahead and try. It’s your funeral.”
I face away from the swing, stretch my hands high above my head and grasp both of the chains, pulling myself up like I’m at the pull-up bar at the gym.
I settle on top of the soft, plastic rim with both feet. I’m glad I’m wearing my Vans because I think they’re providing enough grip so that I don’t slip off. I jiggle my body back and forth, making Rose laugh and shake her head.
“I know I look ridiculous—”
“You have no idea,” she says.
“I’m trying to get this to actually swing back and forth.”
Finally, my jostling allows me to get in a good rhythm. “Ach! See? I’m doing it!” I finally manage to find a way to lean back enough that my body sails back and then forward enough to cause the opposite motion. “This is actually kind of f—"
My Vans fail me, zipping off the swing simultaneously. My left leg slides to my right, channeling down the right opening in the swing. The force of the fall causes my left leg to shunt down so quickly that my foot stabs the ground. There’s a pop as my hip locks into place. It wedges hard.
The sensation of being tightly tethered floods me—like a team of medical professionals is getting ready to fit me for a body cast.
And I can’t move an inch.