Chapter 2 – Miles
TWO
MILES
“That was Helen,” I say, walking back out into the garage where my best friend for as long as I can remember sits.
I opened Miller Automotive four years ago and since it opened, Grant has given me shit for working so much, telling me the only way he ever sees me is if he comes by the garage I own and hangs out while I finish a job. Unfortunately, he’s not exactly wrong, which is why we’re here tonight.
“She said she found someone who is looking for a place to rent for the summer. They’ll be at my place around noon tomorrow to see if it’s a good fit.”
I don’t exactly want to rent out a room in my childhood home to a total stranger, but with my brother breathing down my neck to buy him out of his stake in the house we inherited, I need all the extra cash I can get. Plus, it’s just for the summer, and Helen says the new head lifeguard is incredibly responsible and comes with stellar recommendations.
“Maybe it’ll be a hot chick,” Grant says, leaning back on the chair he’s sitting in. I give him a dark glare before lifting the ratchet I abandoned to take the call, and he lets out a laugh. “I’m just saying. You’re so busy all the time; there’s no chance you’ve gotten laid in a while.”
As much as I hate to admit it, he’s not wrong. With my overtime work at the garage and picking up whatever odd jobs around town I can to make extra cash without causing alarm from my mother, my personal life has fallen far on my priorities list.
“Don’t think hooking up with a renter I’m charging to live here is really the answer. That feels…illegal.”
He shrugs and takes a sip of his beer as if he doesn’t see a problem with it.
“So, do you really think he’s going to take you to court?”
I set the tool down again and lean against the bumper with a bone-deep sigh, crossing my arms on my chest. “With Paul? Who the fuck knows.”
After my grandmother passed almost six years ago, she left the house in equal part to my brother and me. Paul had no interest in the property, and I couldn’t afford to buy him out, but I desperately wanted to keep the house my grandfather built.
The agreement was simple: I’d cover the back taxes and much-needed repairs that had stacked up, and he could have or sell anything of value in her home. After that, I would pay him rent for the next ten years to settle the rest of his stake before it would be mine, free and clear.
I’m sure my wannabe rock star brother thought by now his career would take off, but now that it’s becoming startlingly clear that’s not going to work out for him the way he hoped, he’s back to being a fucking bloodsucker on our family.
“Does your mom know?” he asks, and I shake my head before shooting him with a serious look.
“No, and if she finds out, I’m kicking your ass first and asking questions never.”
Paul and I were raised by our single mom after our father died when I was eight and Paul was five. She always wants to see the best in my younger brother, blaming his selfish and often lazy behavior on the fact that he only had our mom and grandmother, refusing to admit that Paul is just…Paul. It would absolutely gut her to know that he’s trying to force me to sell my grandmother’s house.
“All right, all right,” he says, lifting his hands as if to fend me off. “So what’s your plan?”
I shrug and let out a sigh that feels like it takes the last vestiges of my energy with it. Thinking about the shitstorm that is my relationship with Paul always leaves me feeling this way: exhausted and hopeless.
“My lawyer says if he’s hurting for money, which common sense says he must be, he’s not going to be able to afford a lawyer to force me to sell, but the place is pretty valuable real estate. He could, in theory, sell his stake to an investor who would have the time and money to fight me for it.” My jaw goes tight at the reminder of how I’m backed between a rock and a hard place by my own flesh and blood. “So I’m saving up to try and get the money to pay him in full while offering to double his payments in the meantime. The goal is to keep him happy so he doesn’t feel the need to look at alternate options.”
“So you’re basically at Paul’s whim?”
I cringe at the way he says it, though he’s not wrong. “I’m going to try and buy him out by the end of the summer. I’ve got a good amount saved, but I’m not quite there yet.”
“Is there any way you can get a loan?”
I think about how my brother fucked my credit by pulling out credit cards in my name and maxing them out years ago. On top of that, being self-employed and owning my own automotive shop makes loans a distant possibility.
I shake my head. “No, not feasibly, at least. For now, I’m going to offer up my monthly payments to him and hope Paul is just in a bind and needs money.”
He looks at me with a pitying look. His face goes contemplative, and before he even speaks, I know what he’s going to say. Grant is more of a brother to me than my actual brother, meaning we both would do just about anything for each other.
“You know, I don’t think I have all of what you’d need, but I could?—”
“No,” I say quickly, nipping that offer in the bud before it gets any further. “No.” I’ve prided myself on paying for everything myself for as long as I can remember, saving every penny I can, and I don’t plan to change that anytime soon.
“Look, man, I know you hate taking help, but?—”
I shake my head and cut him off again. “I’ve got it. Seriously,” I lie. “I’m taking on more surfing lessons this summer and upped my fees for tourists.”
He smiles at that. “You know they’re good for it.”
I return the grin because this is more sure footing, complaining about the tourists who flood our town from May to September. While they help keep our small town running, the tourists that visit during the summer season are a pain in the ass and something the locals love to complain about, myself included.
“Exactly. So I’ll make it work.” Silence fills the garage, and I turn to go back to the job I was working on before, but as is his way, Grant breaks it.
“But back to the important stuff, you should consider getting laid soon. You’re too young to let your dick shrivel up and fall off from misuse.” I cringe at the visual and open my mouth to argue with him, but his phone rings. He lifts his cell and looks at the screen before moving to answer it. “It’s June,” he says, referencing his baby sister.
June is six years younger than him, and considering both of their parents are shit, he basically raised her. Because of that, if June calls, he’s answering.
“Hey, June bug, how’s it—” Grant pauses his greeting, his brow furrowing in confusion before he sighs. “She’s drunk?” Another pause before he adds, “Lainey’s there too? Fuck. Yeah, okay. I’ll be there in a few. I’m over at Miles’s garage.”
He puts his phone down, then looks to the concrete shop ceiling, sending up a prayer of patience, I’ve seen more times than I can count, before looking at me.
“June’s over at Surf,” he says, mentioning the tourist trap of a bar next to my house on the boardwalk. I grimace. During the day, it’s a luxury beach club where sunbathers can have an all-inclusive day at the shore, and when the sun goes down, it turns into a nightclub I avoid at all costs.
“Surf? Why are they there?”
“No idea. Who knows why they do half the shit they do. Deck called me on June’s phone. Apparently, they decided to be tourists and get drunk. Lainey’s with her, and they’re causing a scene.”
Decker Elliot is two years younger than Grant and me and is good friends with June. They weren’t friends in high school, but since he’s the gym teacher at the elementary school where June teaches, they inevitably became friends.
“A scene?”
Grant shrugs but stands to leave. “He didn’t really give me many details about what that meant, partially because he was laughing the entire time he was on the phone, and there was hollering in the background. But June making a scene is never a good thing.” This is definitely true and has been since she was a kid. “I have to go pick them up.”
He steps toward his car, and I grab a rag to clean off my hands before moving to follow. I could use an entertaining distraction in the form of Grant having to deal with his baby sister begrudgingly. Again.
“Oh, I’m coming,” I say when he looks at me with confusion. “I’d rather focus on your shitstorm than mine.”
He rolls his eyes but doesn’t argue as we slide into his car then drive across town toward Surf. When we park behind my house, we make our way to the hideous building next door. It was built nearly four years ago now, after Baker Inc. purchased five lots on the boardwalk, tore down each one, and built this monstrosity in its place.
It’s the bane of my existence: the noise, the eyesore, the litter, the damn principle of the matter. It doesn’t help that the owner’s son, Brad, has been bugging me for years to sell my property to them, despite my continuously and adamantly saying no every single time.
But I can’t think of that when we walk to the entrance, nodding at Mike, an old friend from high school, before walking into the chaos. The lights are dim, though strobe lights flash on and off, lighting up different sections of the nightclub as music I faintly recognize bumps through the speakers at a near-deafening level. The song changes, and there’s a loud, excited shout before the crowd at the center of the room shifts.
“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” I distantly hear Grant rumble, irritation evident in the words as he walks with a mission toward the bar in the center of the room, dodging tables and people dancing.
As we move, the crowd grows thicker, mostly men cheering, hooting, and hollering at two forms on top of the bar. One I recognize to be June, with the dark hair her brother also has, pulled into a ponytail and a glass in her hand.
But that’s not what has me hesitating as Grant moves closer, calling his sister’s name as he does.
It’s the woman up there with her, long blonde curls tumbling down her back, a wide smile on her lips as her head tips to the ceiling as she scream-sings the words of the song out loud, and my heart stutters just a bit before ramping up once again.
Claire Donovan, my brother’s girlfriend, is standing on top of the bar, dancing. Claire, who I have diligently avoided anytime she was in Seaside Point for the past two years because just seeing her reminds me of how fucked my relationship with my brother is.
I don’t need to look around the room to know everyone is watching her. There’s something so fascinating about her, the way she grabs the attention of everyone in the room, drawing them in instantly and forcing everyone in the vicinity’s eyes to her, and I’m not immune to her magic.
I never have been. While I’m watching her, I spot Brad Baker, the heir to Baker Inc. and the bane of my existence, standing at the bar at her feet. You’d think the owner’s son would be trying to get the drunk girl off the bar top, but instead, he’s smiling, trying to talk to her and get her attention. I’m only one person away when his hand reaches up, brushing against her bare calf, seemingly trying to get her attention. It works. Her head snaps down, a small frown forming on her lips as she shifts her leg away. The sudden movement throws off her center of gravity, and her body shifts, making her lose her balance. As she teeters, I push someone aside and lunge toward the bar as she falls.
Right into my arms.
Without a lick of the panic pounding in my chest, she looks up at me with those wide blue eyes I’ve been trying to hate and smiles. The woman smiles , and looking back, I realize that was the moment where I became completely and truly fucked, because that smile stops my irritation in its tracks, intrigue and an unnamed warmth taking its place.
“Hey, Miles. Long time no see.”