Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
Miles
The smoke curls up, blurring the world around me.
I inhale deep, feeling the burn in my lungs. Exhale.
The tension eases, but it doesn’t go far.
Things have been insane since we got Stiletto back two days ago.
I can’t shake the worry gnawing at me.
She’s been through hell, and there’s nothing I can do about it—feeling useless.
I flick ash onto the cracked pavement and glance at the door behind me.
I shouldn’t be out here.
I should be inside, making sure she’s okay, but I need this moment, just a breather.
One more hit, then I’ll go back in.
A voice cuts through the haze. “Hey!”
I look up, and there she is. Stiletto—her red hair catching the light like flames.
Bruises bloom on her skin, ugly greens and yellows.
It makes my stomach twist imagining the atrocities she endured in that wretched place.
“I thought you’d be inside,” I say, keeping my tone light, but it feels heavy between us.
“Yeah? And what? You’re just gonna sit out here all alone?” Her hazel-green eyes spark with defiance. “I’m kind of surprised. Shouldn’t you have gone home by now?”
“Sometimes it’s better if I’m alone,” I take another drag, holding her gaze. “I’m not going back home, Song.”
Everyone here calls her Stiletto, but to me, she’s always going to be Song.
“Why not?” She scoffs, crossing her arms, but I see the flicker of uncertainty in her expression. “You’ve got a life waiting for you back there. A girlfriend or whatever.”
“I had a girlfriend,” I correct her, my voice firm. “I broke up with her before I came to Montana. When your sister called, I dropped everything to come find you.”
Stiletto raises an eyebrow, skepticism written all over her face. “Really? Just like that?”
“Yeah, really. I didn’t think twice about it.” I step closer, the air thick with unsaid words. “I thought about what was important in my life, and she wasn’t. I thought about what was—and that is you. I want to fight for this, for us . I messed up before, pushed you away when you confessed. I was scared.”
She closes her eyes, and for a moment, I think maybe she gets it. But then she shakes her head, opening them again, and the wall goes back up. “You should go back home, Miles. I’m sure there’s still time to repair what you’ve broken with her.”
“Why do you want me to go back home? Because you’re hurting?” I plead, desperation creeping into my voice. “What if I didn’t break anything? What if I don’t want to go back and repair something I don’t want? What if I want my life to be here with you by my side?”
“Yeah, right.” She laughs, but it’s hollow.
“Song—” I reach for her, but she steps back, putting distance between us.
“Just fucking go, Miles,” she says, her tone clipped.
There’s no room for argument.
“Dammit, Song!” I call after her as she turns away, already walking back inside.
The door shuts with a soft click, and I’m left outside, the joint burning down to a stub in my fingers.
Fuck.
What now?
I crush the roach under my boot, frustration boiling inside me.
I thought coming here would make things better, but all I feel is more lost than ever.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out, glancing at the screen—Antonio.
Hey, Miles. When you comin' back? Struggling to fill shifts here. Need you, man.
I read his message twice.
My stomach churns.
The club feels like a million miles away.
I can’t think about that shit right now.
I text back, fingers hovering over the screen.
Not sure, man.
I can’t just disappear on him like that. But Song is the only thing running through my mind.
I told Song I’m not going back, but I don’t want to tell Antonio yet.
I just need some fucking time.
Antonio shoots me another text.
Can you tell me anything? I gotta know if I need to look for a new bouncer.
Releasing a breath I didn’t know I was holding onto, I text him back.
Give my shifts to someone else. Not putting you out. Just not coming back anytime soon.
My thumb hovers over the send button, hesitation prickling at me.
There’s a reply from him within seconds.
How long we talking, man?
I reply, frustration spilling into my words.
I don’t have a fucking clue.
I hit send and jam my phone back into my pocket.
“Focus, Miles,” I mutter to myself. I can’t afford to lose sight of why I’m really here.
My heart races as I remember the bruises on her skin, the way her hazel eyes flickered with pain. She needs me, even if she doesn’t want to admit it.
“Get your shit together,” I whisper.
I can’t let Antonio’s problems pull me back.
I lean against the wall, staring at the ground, battling the urge to chase after her again.
But I know what she’ll say; “Just go.”
But the biggest question plaguing my mind is—how do I fight for someone who wants me gone?
I let out a long sigh, the weight of all this uncertainty hanging over me.
“Goddamn it,” I mutter, pinching the bridge of my nose.
I need to clear my head.
Just as I lean my head back against the wall, the door creaks open beside me.
Stiletto steps back outside.
Her red hair tumbles over her shoulders, but it’s the bruises that catch my eye—dark green and yellow patches decorating her skin like a twisted canvas.
The cuts on her arms are still angry-looking, healing but raw.
My gut twists at the sight of it all.
“Hey,” she says, her voice laced with sarcasm.
“Hey.” I try to meet her gaze, but it feels impossible.
I want to say something that doesn’t sound stupid, especially given how our conversation just went.
She crosses her arms, the movement drawing attention to the bruises. “Still here, huh?”
“Yeah.” I shove my hands into my pockets, trying to hide how much I care. “I’m not going anywhere, Song.”
“Right.” She rolls her eyes, the defiance in her stance making my heart race. “I should’ve figured you’d stick around for the drama.”
“That’s not why I’m here and you damn well know it,” I insist, stepping closer. “Fuck, I already told you why I want to stay. But if you want, we can talk about it in more detail.”
She scoffs, shaking her head. “What’s there to talk about? You have a life back home.”
“Not anymore.” My voice is firmer than I expected. “I left all that behind to find you.”
“Please.” Her laugh is sharp, cutting through the tension. “You think I believe that?”
“Believe what you want,” I reply, frustration bubbling up. “But I didn’t come here for the scenery. I came because you matter to me.”
“Yeah, right.” She waves her hand dismissively, turning away as if my words were nothing.
“Song,” I step forward, urgency clawing at my chest. “For one second, imagine that I want this. Imagine I want you and me, and I want us together. Give me the benefit of the doubt. Surely you can do that?”
She freezes, her back stiffening.
A moment hangs between us, heavy and charged.
Then she laughs again, but this time it’s bitter. “Yeah, good luck with that. I hope you know the only reason I was being so clingy to you the other day was because I thought I was going to die in there. I haven’t forgotten what happened between us.”
“Dammit, I’m serious!” I take another step, desperately searching her hazel eyes for any sign of hope. “I want to fight for us. For what we could be.”
“Fight for what?” She finally turns back, her expression unreadable. “You’re just gonna run away when things get tough, or when I open up to you, right?”
“No, not this time.” I can feel the heat in my cheeks, the fear of losing her. “I messed up before, okay? I pushed you away when you needed me. I won’t do it again.”
“It’s hard for me to believe that you changed your mind all of a sudden,” she grumbles.
“It wasn’t all of a sudden, but, in case you need me to spell it out you’re worth me blowing up my whole life for.” I take a breath, letting the weight of my words linger between us. “And I’m not afraid of being with you anymore. For fuck’s sake, you could’ve died, Song.”
I pause, the weight of my confession heavy in my chest.
Words tangle on the tip of my tongue.
“Look,” I say instead, searching her face for any sign of understanding. “I came here because I care about you. I wanted to make sure you’re okay, to get you out of that damn place.”
She snaps back, her voice sharper than glass. “Yeah? And what if I’m not?”
“Then I’ll be here.” I step closer again, feeling the warmth radiate off her skin. “I want to fight for you, for us. But I can’t do that if you’re pushing me away.”
Her eyes dart away, the vulnerability hidden behind layers of bravado.
She’s scared. I get that.
The silence stretches between us, thick with unspoken feelings.
I can almost hear the racing thoughts in her mind, battling against everything she’s been through.
I want to reach out, to bridge that gap, but I hold back.
“Just... think about it, okay?” I finally say, backing off a little.
I don’t want to push her too far. She’s been through enough.
“Yeah, I’ll think about it,” she replies, her tone flat.
And just like that, the moment slips away, leaving tension lingering in the chill of the night.