Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Miles
I tap my fingers against the steering wheel, the engine purring beneath me.
The hospital looms ahead, sterile and cold.
I can’t shake this tightness in my chest.
Today’s the day Song’s getting released.
Yesterday felt like a blur.
I caught a glimpse of her—curled up under those thin sheets, eyes fluttering shut.
I wanted to shake her awake, to tell her things, but sleep took her.
As I park, I glance at my reflection in the rearview mirror.
Dark circles line my eyes.
I scrub a hand over my face, fighting back the weight of everything.
Stepping out of the truck, I make my way through the sliding glass doors.
The smell of antiseptic hits me hard the second I enter the hospital.
I push past the receptionist downstairs. After all, she’s seen me day after day.
I seldomly go into Song’s room, usually when she’s sleeping.
We need to have some conversations, but now isn’t the time for them.
Licking my lips, I take the elevator upstairs.
I come up to another receptionist’s desk, ignoring the woman’s polite smile.
Instead, my focus is on her room.
When I reach her door, I take a breath.
It’s now or never. I knock lightly and push it open.
“Hey,” I say, forcing a smile as I step inside.
Her hair spills across the pillow, fiery red against the white sheets.
Those hazel green eyes light up when she sees me, and it’s like a punch to the gut.
That’s the Song I know—a spark that refuses to be dimmed.
I close the door behind me, blocking out the noise from the hallway.
In my hands, I clutch the duffle bag Siren packed—her favorite clothes, I hope.
And then there’s the hot matcha tea, still steaming in the cup.
I can’t stand the smell, but it’s what she loves.
“Look what I brought.” I hand her the matcha, careful not to spill any.
Her fingers brush against mine, and a spark ignites between us.
“Matcha?” She raises an eyebrow, feigning surprise. “You really went all out. Where’d you get it?”
“Well, I know how much you love it. Tara told me to get it from Tart, so that’s where I went.”
“Good, they’re the only ones who make decent matcha in the whole State of Montana.” She takes a sip, and her eyes light up.
For a moment, the weight of everything falls away.
“That’s more like it,” I say, feeling relief wash over me.
It’s the first real slice of Stiletto I’ve seen since I pulled her out of that damn place.
“How did you know I was craving one? Did Siren tell you?” she asks, mischief dancing in her gaze.
“Maybe I just know you better than you think.” I lean against the wall, crossing my arms.
“Or maybe you’re just a sucker for my charm,” she teases, a hint of her old self shining through.
“Definitely a sucker,” I admit, grinning.
“Good. Then you won’t mind being my personal barista.” She takes another sip, her smile growing wider.
“Only if you promise to stop with the weird flavors,” I quip back, feeling lighter.
“Never gonna happen,” she laughs softly, the sound wrapping around me like a warm blanket.
“So, you ready to blow this popsicle stand?” I ask, trying to keep it light, but my heart races.
“God knows where you come up with this shit,” She shakes her head. “But, yeah, I’m ready to get out of here. Things just feel different now.”
“Yeah? Good.” I shove my hands into my pockets, feeling the weight of everything unspoken. “You went through hell. Things are gonna feel different.”
“That’s an understatement,” she murmurs, her gaze dropping.
I lean forward, wanting to peel back those layers. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”
“Just thinking about… everything.” She bites her lip, a flicker of vulnerability crossing her face. “It’s like déjà vu, you know? Like when I tried to find my mom.”
My stomach twists.
God, she shouldn’t have had to deal with anything like that ever again.
I remember when she told me what happened. My heart broke for her and I wanted to kill every single man that assaulted her.
And I did, but she doesn’t know that.
“Shit, I still can’t believe she set you up like that.” Anger surges through me, hot and fierce.
“See? This is why I don’t want to talk about it,” she says, squeezing her eyes shut. “I don’t want your pity.”
“Dammit, girl, it’s not pity. I care about you. Naturally it’s gonna hurt me seein’ you like this.” I step closer, my voice lowering. “What happened to you… it’s not fair. It’s unjust and it never should’ve fuckin’ happened.”
She inhales deeply, opens her eyes, and holds my gaze. “I’ve survived far worse. If it weren’t for you…” Her voice trails off, and I can see the gratitude in her eyes.
“I couldn’t imagine living without you, Song.” The words slip out before I think about what the hell I’m even saying to her.
“Really?” she murmurs, though uncertainty lingers in her eyes.
“Look at me,” I urge, wanting her to see the truth in my words. “You’re not alone in this.”
“Sometimes since this happened, it feels indescribable. Like I’m trapped in a loop.” She swallows hard, emotion choking her. “I thought I’d escaped it. I never thought something like this would happen again.”
My jaw clenches.
Anger surges within me, boiling hot.
I want to kill the bastard, rip whoever touched her apart piece by piece.
I’ll revel the day I can watch the life drain from their eyes. “Whoever did this to you... I swear, I’ll make them pay. I’m going to help in whatever way I can.”
“Help?” She raises an eyebrow, skepticism dancing in her hazel-green eyes. “How do you honestly expect to do that?”
“By being here. Right now.” I lean forward, my breath catching. “And however long it takes after.”
“Save me the romantic bullshit, Miles. Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” Her voice wavers, but the fire remains.
My heart stutters and I repeat myself, this time being far more emotional. “I couldn’t imagine living without you. I’m not lying when I say that.”
Her eyes widen, a flicker of surprise threading through the haze of pain.
It’s like I just dropped a bomb in the room.
“Why do you care so much?” she asks, tilting her head slightly, studying me.
“I don’t know,” I admit, sighing heavily. “All I know is that I’ve tried to bury my feelings for you for a long time, and it never works out. I’m done trying to hide them. I want to be with you, Song. I want to give this a real, authentic shot.”
Her expression softens, but uncertainty lingers in her hazel-green eyes. “What makes you think I can trust you now?”
“You can’t,” I say, my voice low and steady. “I need to earn your trust and I’m going to prove myself to you. I won’t mess it up again.”
“That’s a big promise, Miles.” She bites her lip, weighing my words, her vulnerability laid bare in the stark light of the hospital room.
“Believe me, I know what I’m saying,” I squeeze her hand gently, feeling the warmth of her skin against mine. “But I mean it. I want to build something real with you.”
“Real?” she repeats, a hint of disbelief coloring her tone.
“Yeah. Something I should’ve done years ago,” I lock my gaze onto hers, pouring every bit of sincerity into that moment. “You’re worth it.”
A silence hangs between us, thick and charged.
Hope flickers in her eyes, battling against fear.
I can see her heart warring with her mind, and just for a second, I wish I could ease that burden entirely.
“Fine,” she whispers finally, a small smile breaking through the tension. “Let’s see where this goes… but if you fuck up I’m done. You won’t get another chance ever again.”
Then, without thinking, I pull her against me.
Her warmth envelops me, and I can’t help but bury my face in her hair.
The scent of her shampoo, sweet and floral, wraps around us like an invisible cloak.
She fits perfectly against me, like she was made for this.
“God, I missed you, woman,” I murmur, my lips grazing the top of her head.
“Missed you too,” she whispers back, her breath warm against my skin.
My heart pounds as I tilt her chin up.
I search her eyes, wanting to make sure this is real. That she’s really here with me.
I close the distance between us, capturing her lips with mine.
It’s tender at first, a slow burn igniting within me. Soft and sweet, just like her.
Her mouth moves against mine, hesitant yet eager.
I deepen the kiss, pouring all my feelings into it.
The world outside fades away. Nothing else matters but us.
But I hold back. I want to take my time with her, to savor this moment.
When I finally pull back, our foreheads rest together.
I can feel her breath mingling with mine, warm and steady.
“Guess we really are doing this,” she says, a hint of disbelief in her tone.
“Damn straight,” I affirm, locking my gaze onto hers.