32. Mila
MILA
B y the time the first week is up, I’ve managed to make friends with Ava. We take walks through the grounds together, sneaking off when she’s supposed to be folding towels or dusting.
I won’t lie and say I’m sorry. It feels nice to have a friend who I can actually speak to. All my life, all my friends were either connections through my stepfather and mother or my siblings. Speaking to Ava, though, I feel like a fully fledged person for the first time in months.
She tells me about her childhood and her family. Her mother’s drug habits and her abusive stepfather. I tell her about the attack in very loose details. We play fetch with Phantom and enjoy eavesdropping on the conversations of the rich.
I feel like a teenager again, and it’s then I realize while Christian may have been pivotal in healing something broken in my soul, Ava was crucial to healing my childhood and I, hers.
At night, though, everything comes crashing down.
My mind races, and when I should be sleeping, I find myself in the window, staring out at the trees and wondering where Christian is and why he hasn’t called.
Did he leave me here with no intentions of ever coming back?
Surely not. His family is here. His home is here.
It doesn’t make it any easier, though, as a few days bleeds into a week with no word from him.
I can’t escape the pit opening wider and wider in my stomach with each passing day.
So, I sit in his window, holding his ring and staring out over his property and wonder what the outcome of all this will be.
Paulina and Collin aren’t telling me anything, but I know he’s gone looking for his brother. Thinking about Christian in the same world as the man who raped me feels like fire ants are crawling over my skin, let alone the same room.
Thinking back to our last night together . . . how he’d held me, it’s impossible to escape the gut-wrenching possibility that he may not come back.
Could I live with that? A world without Christian Cross, the only man I’ve ever loved?
Something tells me, judging by the heavy weight settling in my chest, it would be impossible.
On day eight, post-Christian’s departure, I’m showering when I hear a thud from the room outside and pause in the middle of shampooing my hair.
“Phantom?”
“Get off the bed!”
I jump at the sound of the voice and Phantom’s low growl from just outside the bathroom door. Naked as possible and dripping in water, I rip my robe from the rung on the wall and throw the door open, covering myself as I lock eyes with the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.
Her sleek and shining dark hair hangs down to her waist in big waves, perfect like glass. Her pale blue eyes regard me with confusion and outrage, assessing me wrapped in nothing but a robe and still dripping wet.
“Phantom,” I snap when he growls again, positioning himself between her and me.
“That mutt was on the bed.”
“He’s a wolf, actually.” Phantom lays down on the floor between the woman, and I press myself back against the wall in an effort to hide at least some of my naked body.
“Who are you?”
I pause. Did she really just come in here while I was showering and have the audacity to ask what I’m doing?
“Who are you?” I fire back.
“Talia Taylor,” she says as if it should be obvious.
“Can I help you, Talia?” I reply icily. I only feel a little guilty about my attitude. I mean, she barged in on me, after all.
“Why are you in my room?”
“You’re room?” I pause, a sickening sensation sliding down my room.
“Yes, my room ,” she snaps back, her gaze drifting over me where I’m still cowered against the wall with my robe covering me. “Don’t tell me they let the housekeepers shower in here? This is supposed to be family only.”
“Mila is family,” Bella says, stepping into the room, clearly pissed off at having been woken up in the middle of the night. “What are you doing here, Talia?”
“Is that any way to greet an old friend?” Talia muses, poking the end of her nose with a long, stiletto nail. “I came for the Founder’s Day banquet, obviously—you know I never miss it. This is my suite.”
“This is Christian’s suite,” Bella corrects. “You’ll be staying at the lodge this year.”
“The lodge?” Talia scoffs. “But I’ve always stayed here.”
“Mila’s staying here. As I said, we have a room booked for you in the lodge.”
“Mila can stay in the lodge.”
Bella shakes her head. “She’s Christian’s wife . ”
And there it is. The look in her eyes . . .
She’s in love with Christian.
God, could life get any more difficult?
Scratch that. I don’t want to know the answer.
“Wife?” Talia beams, her smile in danger of cracking. “I wasn’t aware Christian had married.”
Me either, I think dryly.
“It was a surprise to all of us,” Bella says.
“I’m sorry, Mila. You’ll have to forgive me,” Talia says, taking a step back. She makes a quick assessment of me as if she’s suddenly regarding me in a different light. It’s not a good one. “I just would have expected him to say something if there was a new woman in his life. He never mentioned you.”
“Yeah, he didn’t mention you, either,” I grumble, but she ignores me.
“We’ve been friends for a long time,” Talia explains, nothing fake or malicious in her gaze, but I can’t escape the jealousy slipping through me like venom.
“More than friends,” Bella interjects pointedly.
“Yes, I suppose that’s true. Though, there’s really no need to rehash first loves, is there? After all, we weren’t married. Just engaged.”
I feel the blood drain from my face, my gaze shifting to where Bella is watching me nervously.
It’s true.
My stomach twists with resentment. I had always assumed that before me, he’d never really had any serious relationships. It’s my fault for being presumptuous, but now that the leggy brunette standing in front of me is here, I realize there’s no way in hell I ever stood a damn chance.
If Christian could walk away from Talia—a woman who exudes confidence and sophistication—how on earth could I ever expect to keep him?
“I’m sure Mila would like to get to bed, Talia. Let’s leave her, and I’ll take you to the lodge for a room.”
“No, I’m sure there’s been a misunderstanding,” Talia says as if my standing in front of her with nothing but a robe covering my front is an everyday occurrence. Hastily, she tugs out her phone, pressing buttons on it faster than I can even comprehend. “I’ll just call Christian and fix this.”
“He won’t answer,” Bella says, crossing her arms over her chest with a bored look. “He’s busy.”
“Nonsense, we talk every day.”
I think it would hurt less if she had waltzed right in here and slapped me in the face.
He won’t answer . . .
Unfortunately, the pain blooming in my chest grows a thousand times worse when I hear his voice come through the speaker on her phone.
“Hello?”
“Christian,” Talia whines. “I just got to the lodge, and I’m so exhausted, but I just came up to our suite, and there’s a naked woman standing naked in here. What is going on?”
I don’t even hear his reply over the ringing in my ears.
He answered . . . for her.
I don’t realize my legs are carrying me into the bathroom until I’m standing in front of the mirror and listening to Talia’s soft, fluttery voice from the bedroom.
I shouldn’t care. It’s not like he got down on one knee and proposed because he loves me. He forced me because he thought he could keep me safe. And he did . . . just not from the person that really wanted to hurt me.
I shouldn’t care.
. . . But I do.
His ring burns my skin where it still sits on the chain around my neck. Suddenly, I feel stupid for wearing it.
Everything falls into place. All that time spent in the lighthouse. The trips to town without me.
God, I was such an idiot.
A tear slips down my cheek, and I only notice it when it catches in the vanity lights. Hastily, I scrub it away.
A tentative knock sounds at the door while I’m gripping the edges of the sink to quell the nausea, filling my mouth with saliva.
“Just a minute!” I call out, voice choked with the overwhelming anguish in my chest.
“Mila, it’s Bella. I’m going to take Talia to the lodge. I just wanted to let you know it’s taken care of.”
He . . . sent her to the lodge?
I shake my head.
Stop making excuses for him, Mila.
“O-okay . . . thank you,” I say softly. There’s no way I can open the door and face her. Not when the tears in my eyes won’t stop.
I listen to the sound of her footsteps and then the door close without moving. I stare at my reflection, my mind a mix of confusion and betrayal.
Maybe there’s a rational explanation for all of this. Maybe there’s not.
Either way, I’m finding it harder and harder to breathe when the world feels like it’s caving in on me.
When I exit the bathroom, I cross straight to the door, locking it, before I climb into bed. I don’t bother with clothes, wrapping the blankets around me against the chill in my bones.
Everything comes raining down on me all at once. From my missing “husband” to his ex-fiancé showing up to the Sebastian Cross still after me, I feel like I’m going to either lose my mind or wake up from a fever dream at any moment.
Phantom jumps up beside me, laying his head on my stomach, big brown eyes staring into my soul.
“What are we going to do, Phantom?” I whisper, but he doesn’t have an answer for me.
And for the first night in a week, I dream of a leggy brunette in my husband’s bed instead of the man who wants to kill me.
I’ve been lying awake, staring at the canopy above the bed for hours. Phantom lies beside me, fast asleep and I pet his head absentmindedly while I think about all the last year of my life.
The attack, leaving my family behind in LA. Losing Christian. Losing that little piece of both of us we will never get back. Fucking, Talia.
I think about Talia and her perfectly perfect shiny hair.
Is it wrong to hope it falls out in her sleep?
Instead of Talia, I try to focus on the good that’s come from my little “spontaneous relocation” with Christian. My issues with touch are getting better. My nightmares aren’t as frequent. I’ve started using good shampoo again.
But that makes me think about . . . other things.
Like the way he retrained my body to need him. How hot it is laying under the covers even without any clothes on because all I can think about is the feeling of his lips sliding along my skin . . . the way he shudders when he’s inside me.
Great. Now I’m sad and horny.
“Fine,” I grumble. After two hours of laying in the bed with sleep evading me, I give up.
I sit up, my eyes locking on the chair across the room. My mind runs wild with visions of how hot Christian would look sitting there, like a king on a throne. Shaking my head, I push the thoughts aside.
Bad idea, Mila.
Then another thought strikes me, this one turning the burning heat slowly slipping through my veins into pure ice.
Did Talia used to sleep here in his giant bed with him ? Take showers in the same bathroom? Ride him in the fancy corner chair.
Bitter jealousy swirls in my stomach, making my chest ache. Not only is he not here for me to confront him, but his ex is , and she’s staying for the Founder’s Day party, which means I’m on my own in dealing with her for the foreseeable future.
How could he bring me here, knowing she would also be staying here and that I’d learn the truth?
I should have asked more questions. How long were they engaged? Why did they get un -engaged? Who proposed, and if she was his good girl, too?
No. Scratch that. I don’t want to ruin one of the few things that bring me joy right now.
And he speaks to her every day on the phone? I’ve come to the conclusion he must have been doing it when he’s hiding out in his office all day in the lighthouse. Maybe when he left the island, he wasn’t really picking up packages at all, but instead, meeting her.
Oh my God. What if they fucked?
What if he met her, and they screwed in the back of his fancy car, and then he came back home to the little damaged girl he just had to take pity on and marry to save her from her evil stepfather’s plans?
“This is too much,” I grumble, slipping from the bed.
Deciding to get a drink and maybe food if Paulina isn’t around with her grapefruits, I slip from the suite and make my way downstairs towards the kitchen.
I’m just about to step through the dark living room when a figure in front of the fire startles me.
Bella sits on the rug in front of the fireplace, watching the dancing flames. She only glances at me before she looks away and wipes her eyes.
“I’m sorry.” I slowly back up towards the exit. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”
“Please . . .” she stalls, her voice quiet. “Stay.”
Okay . . .
When I don’t move, she turns over her shoulder, fixing me with a look.
“I’m not going to bite.”
Funnily enough, her brother said the same thing, and we all know that was a lie.
Carefully, I pad across the room, sinking down to the faux bear skin rug in front of the fire beside her.
She takes a swig from the bottle of wine beside her before she hands it over to me. I’ve never been that into drinking, but right now, I think I’d drink pond water if it took my mind off her stupid, hot brother for even a moment.
I take a drink of the berry wine, wincing as it slides down my throat. Quietness fills the room as both of us watch the flames flickering in the fireplace in front of us. I don’t think either of us is really in the mood to explain our inner battles, so we sit in uncomfortable silence.
Well . . . uncomfortable for me, at least. Just last night, we were avoiding each other like the plague, and now we’re sitting criss-cross apple sauce on the floor while she cries silently beside me.
“What do you think the witches of Salem felt when they were being burnt alive at the stake?”
I’m so surprised by her question I have to take another drink to process it.
When her eyes meet mine, I can see she’s not joking and genuinely wants me to answer. I was really hoping she wouldn’t.
“I think it feels a lot like being sliced open.” The scars on my body burn as if reminding me they’re there. “Death by a thousand cuts.”
She looks back towards the fire as if she’s mulling over what I said.
“You were sliced open. Do the scars on your skin hurt worse than the scars on your soul?” When I don’t respond out of confusion, she continues. “I saw them when I walked in on you earlier.”
Well, shit.
“Looked like it hurt. Whoever they were, they were fucked-up.”
“You have no idea,” I grumble, a shiver ghosting through me at the mention of Sebastian, a brother she thinks is dead.
I take another drink of wine because it’s easier than speaking about that night.
“Scars on the skin heal,” I say after a long moment of silence. I hand her back the bottle of wine when she reaches for it. “The ones inside like to stick around.”
“How many were there?”
“Men?” I ask. “One. One deranged, sadistic asshole.” Who just so happens to be related to you.
She shakes her head, a tear beading on her lashes, but it doesn’t fall.
“I was so confused when Christian brought you here, saying you were married,” she admits. “But now I can see it.”
“I’m sorry?”
She smiles softly.
“I’ve never seen my brother in love before.”
My chest aches at the mention of that stupid little four letter word. That word has haunted me since I met him.
“I wouldn’t say it’s love.”
“I would.”
“Wouldn’t you say he was also in love with Talia if he proposed to her?”
I hate saying her name. I hate it so much it burns on my tongue the moment it leaves my mouth.
She shakes her head, her gaze lingering on the fire.
“No. He’s different with you. Softer.” She gulps down some of the wine. “If he’s got a weakness, then you’re it.”
My stomach bottoms out hearing that. I’ve never considered Christian to have any weaknesses, least of all me.
“I apologize if I made things uncomfortable earlier. With your . . . Talia . . .”
She shrugs. “She deserved it. Honestly, I was hoping you’d punch her.” She side-eyes me. “Thanks for letting me down.”
I chuckle when she grins, placing the bottle in my hand.
“I’ve always hated her,” she says, drawing her knees up to her chest. Seeing her now, in nothing but cotton shorts and a tank top, it’s easy to see how young she is. “I want to apologize for the way I treated you when you arrived. And for Talia. Not my finest moment.”
To be twenty-five and have to worry about not only your dying father, but this lodge, all its guests and employees, and now me, hanging over her head . . . I can’t imagine.
“I’m sorry for intruding. The marriage was fast,” I tell her, hoping to build some sort of bridge between us where we can at least speak to each other. “It didn’t help matters that Christian and Levi took off right after.”
“You aren’t intruding. It’s nice to have another woman here my age. Don’t tell Paulina.” She shakes her head with a soft chuckle. “We all used to be so close. Don’t get me wrong, they make sure everything’s taken care of, but it’s just me, Paulina, and Dad here, and well . . . Dad’s not great company.” She grimaces. “He wasn’t good company before he got sick, though, so I don’t know why I expected anything different.”
“He and Christian don’t seem to be close.”
“They were never close,” she grumbles. “Dad was always too hard on both of them. Sebastian, too. And I mean hard in the sense that left bruises and busted lips.”
My skin bristles at the mention of his name.
Should have been harder on Sebastian, from the sounds of things.
“He was abusive?”
“He was.” She looks down at her hands. “I suppose that’s why Sebastian did what he did.”
My blood runs cold, but I remain silent. I’m not sure how much she knows, and it’s not my place to tell her.
“What did he do?”
She furrows her brow, looking over at me.
“He set the fire that killed my mother.” She winces, swiping at the tear slipping from her blue eyes. Blue eyes so much like Christian’s; it hurts to look at them. “At least, that’s what they think. It wouldn’t surprise me if it were true. He liked to play with matches, and he set the drapes on fire in one of the rooms at the lodge once. Dad almost beat him half to death.”
“That’s horrible,” I breathe.
“I remember that night in my nightmares. Watching the house burning when we arrived. Mom and Seb had gone down early to get everything set up at the lake house for the weekend. It was supposed to be a family vacation. I was supposed to be with them, but I begged Dad to let me ride with him and Christian instead. When they found the bodies, Christian took Seb’s death harder than anyone, I think. He told you they were twins?”
“No.” In fact, he didn’t mention it at all. “He didn’t.”
“Well, I guess probably because it’s still hard on him. Sebastian was always the weird one. He was a loner. Never really had any friends besides Christian. They were nearly inseparable for a long time. They were about as close as Seb would allow. Christian always tried to get him to open up, but he never did.” She shrugs. “When he died, it almost didn’t change anything,” she whispers as if speaking it aloud is a sin. “He was already a ghost . . . is it bad to say such a thing?”
Listening to her, I tighten my hands to fists in my lap to conceal the anger vibrating through me. He killed their mother. His own mother.
I hate him. I’ve never hated someone so much in my entire life, but I know if he were in front of me right now, I’d do everything in my power to kill him. For what he did to me, but also . . . for what he stole from the Cross siblings.
From Christian.
“No,” I shake my head. “My father died when I was four. I never knew him the way my siblings did. It’s almost like he never existed at all in my world.”
“Wow,” she breathes, chuckling. She wipes a hand across her eyes, brushing back tears. “Well, we can agree on one thing, then.”
“Two.” I hold up my fingers. “Talia’s a dick.”
She laughs, drying her face.
“And that.” She glances at the clock above the mantel. “I need to get to bed. I’m going to be hungover if I keep drinking this wine.”
She stands, and I follow when she faces me.
“I’d like to formally introduce myself.”
“Okay.”
“Hi, I’m Bella Cross. I’m twenty-five, graduated from Columbia with a degree in business that I hate, and I’m currently the acting general manager of the Oak Ridge Lodge, which is going to give me premature gray hair. What’s your name?”
I chuckle, shaking her hand.
“I’m Mila . . . Cross. I’m twenty-four. Married to your brother, and I would love to help out in any way I can. There’s only so many walks you can take along the same path.”
She smiles. “We’re going to get along just fine, Mila.”
After Bella went up to bed, I made my way back to Christian’s bedroom, my eyes heavy, but my mind too wound up to sleep. I step inside and close the door behind me, shrugging my sweater over my head and heading towards the bed. Phantom lays in the center, stretched out on his back and looking completely at ease.
“Listen, you can’t sleep in the middle,” I tell him, gently pushing him to Christian’s side. “This is where I sleep, too.”
He huffs out a breath, readjusting and getting comfortable, while I pull back the covers with a snicker.
I’m about to climb under the sheets when something heavy falls from the bed to the floor.
I freeze, looking around my feet for whatever it could have been, but it’s impossible to see in the dark. Leaning down, I run my hands over the hardwood floor, my fingers bumping into something under the edge of the bed.
Grabbing it, I pull it out and hold it up to the moonlight shining through the window.
Oh, shit.
It’s a phone. Nothing fancy, but a phone nonetheless. A note is wrapped around the outside of a rubber band. I take it, opening it up to read the jagged handwriting.
And then my heart goes cold.
Your family misses you.