Chapter Nine
Rowan
The Griffin Hotel, where my co-workers and I stayed, served delicious breakfast, but after over two weeks, I exhausted all the options.
I shot some hoops at the hotel’s basketball area first thing after I woke up, showered, and went downstairs.
Troy met me at the table by the window every morning, and we followed one strict rule: no talking about work.
“Eggs Benedict again?” Troy asked, taking a seat at the small square table.
“They make good ones here. Also, you can’t judge me, Mr. Sausage and Beans.” I eyed his food.
“Hey, that used to be my family's breakfast.” Troy set his plate on the table and put his phone next to it. He glanced at it and sighed. “I miss mornings with Raina. No offence.”
“None taken.” I poked my eggs until they spilled all over the plate. “I mean, we have the same hair, but that’s about it.”
“Her sense of humor is superior, for sure.” His dreamy tone was adorable.
“Ouch.” I put a hand on my chest. “You’re my best friend.”
“You’re my second best, sorry. She got you beat,” Troy said around a mouthful of sausage.
“I’d say put a ring on it, but that’s what next week’s party is about.” I slathered my bread in egg yolk and brought it to my lips.
He sighed. “A wedding is not a party.”
“Oh, Raina is rubbing off on you.”
“Shut up. She keeps drilling me about your date,” Troy huffed and refilled both our glasses with orange juice from the pitcher.
“She’s threatening to put me at the singles table. Remember what happened at Simon’s wedding last year?” My phone buzzed on my napkin, lighting up with a text from Milo.
Troy narrowed his eyes at me. “Yeah. You ended up fucking a gorgeous twink.”
“And he posted a pic of my dick online. He took it when I was asleep, too.” It had been an awful, invasive thing, but now I was busy wondering what was in the message I’d got from my favorite barista.
“Well okay, that was shit. But also made you popular with size queens in the area. I remember you taking advantage of that.”
“When people want a ride, I like to indulge them.” I shrugged, but every time a person wanted to fuck me only for my cock, it took away a drop from my self-esteem bucket. It would be a self-esteem mug soon.
“Speaking of twinks…” Troy chewed his bacon slowly, nodded at my phone, and lifted his eyebrows. “Are you sure you don’t have anyone to invite as your plus-one?”
“What? Milo is busy.” I didn’t sound convincing even to my own ears. Of course, the thought had crossed my mind before, but inviting a summer fling to my sister’s wedding might send the wrong message to him. And my family.
“But finds time to text you in the morning.”
“He opened the cafe an hour ago already.” My fingers itched to reply to Milo.
“So you know his schedule?” Troy’s smug face deserved a high five, but he wasn’t wrong.
“Maybe I do. So what?” I grabbed my phone and read his text.
Reminded me of you. Attached was a photo of an orange flower with tiny petals.
“Nothing. Milo doesn’t seem like your usual hookup. I’m assuming the text is from him ‘cause you have a dopey expression on your face like you do every time you talk about him.”
“I do not. My mug is the picture of stoicism.” I grimaced at him like a five-year-old. He was so similar to Raina in that he invoked a spiteful child in me.
“Not when Milo is concerned. Is he sexting so early?”
“No. He sent me this.” I turned my phone around.
“Marigolds. Very pretty. Exactly what a fuck buddy sends first thing in the morning.”
“Fuck off. We have an arrangement for the summer, that’s all.
No pressure or labels, and we can just be ourselves until I go back home.
” I massaged my sternum to alleviate the sudden pain there.
Must be the eggs. I took a sip of water.
“Can you imagine trying to find a new one-night stand every weekend in a small town?” I’d tried once and could only think of Milo, anyway.
“Fine.” Troy snorted. “A summer dry spell for you would be equivalent of years for a regular person.”
“And it wouldn’t even be my choice. We’re here for work that made us move for weeks or threatened to lay us off. Remind me why we still stay in this wretched company?”
Troy pursed his lips. “Because the paycheck is good enough to pay for a nice wedding and the house I want to give my new wife? It also pays for your fancy cars so you can keep them in a garage way too big for one person.”
“Some days I don’t know if being miserable at work is worth it.”
“Listen,” Troy leaned over the table. “I hate this corpo bullshit too. But it makes sense for me. Business, predictions, and numbers are the only things I’m good at. I can’t become a carpenter or something. I’d be shit at it.”
“Yeah, you’re right.” I set my cutlery aside and wiped my mouth. “Let’s get this meeting over with and survive until lunchtime.”
Troy nodded, stood up, and buttoned his suit jacket, looking as if he were going to war.
I felt that sentiment to my core.
Since we were running late, I skipped my coffee at the Cryptid Café and texted Milo that I’d stop by during my break.
The morning briefing at the office, then the meeting followed by a round of courteous handshakes, went as expected. Troy had been right; we were damn good at our job.
The highlight of my day had become taking an hour of my lunch to sit at the cafe and watch Milo work.
Sometimes, he could take the time off and either chat to me or sneak into my hotel room, but most days, I was happy in the armchair, having coffee and a sandwich, and existing in the same space as him.
I was on my way to the Cryptid Café with a smile already forming on my face.
Anticipation brewed within me. Silly. I barely knew the guy, but his energy and aura, or whatever else he had going on, drew me in like a bigfoot into the woods.
Maybe I should invite him to Raina’s wedding?
I’d have fun with Milo there with me, and if he could find time in his schedule for a weekend trip, it could be a nice break for him too.
He’d been pretty clear the night of our ice-cream walk that we were casual.
I’d never suggested otherwise, but that comment had come out of the blue.
The evening had been absolutely perfect, and I was looking forward to milking the summer with Milo.
The smell of fresh coffee and pastries reached my nose before I turned the corner to see the logo with a cup on a saucer and a snake around it. A couple of older ladies passed by me, holding onto each other and talking excitedly.
“I remember when Anabelle and Ethel opened this place,” the lady with gray hair with pink streaks in it said.
“Oh yeah, it was our power-flower place to go back then? Those were the days,” the second lady with flowing silver hair and a flowery dress said. “I visited Ethel last week and told her how great a job Milo was doing running this place.”
I wasn’t eavesdropping, but I was definitely listening intently. Milo was not only working at the cafe, he was in charge of it? That would explain his odd hours and how much he was doing for it.
“Did you tell her it needs some renovations, though?” the pink-haired lady asked.
“Oh, shut it. The boy has enough on his plate. They made a great decision selling the place to him; such a good young man. Here he is.”
Milo was on his bike, getting closer to the cafe when he spotted me on the other side of the street. The wind was blowing his unruly hair back. I wanted to kiss his flushed cheeks and hug him so close, his lovely smell would stay on my shirt until I went back to work.
I lifted my hand in a wave. Then my smile dropped.
Milo was passing a car parked on the curb when the driver’s door sharply opened. In a blink, Milo hit the door with his bike and flew over it.
I could feel the thud he landed on the street with, deep in my bones.
It happened so fast, but my brain was registering it in slow motion, as if it needed the time to process.
“Milo!” A yell tore out of me, and I ran to him, having only half a mind to check the oncoming traffic before crossing. I dropped to my knees next to him. “Milo, talk to me.” I touched his arm gently.
He wasn’t moving. His eyes were closed.
The guy who opened the door stumbled out of the car. “I’m sorry, I didn’t see him. Oh shit. Did I kill him? What do I do now?”
“Call the ambulance.” I pressed two fingers to Milo’s throat, feeling his pulse. “He’s alive.” I scanned his body. His arms and legs were at normal angles, and no blood was anywhere on or around him apart from scratches on his exposed skin.
“I’m fine.” Milo’s quiet voice was a balm to my soul. “Just bumped a bit.” He attempted to lift himself, but I put a hand on his shoulder to keep him from moving.
I exhaled a breath of relief that I didn’t really feel. He could be bleeding internally. He probably had a concussion. Fuck.
“Stay still, just in case. The ambulance is coming.” I glanced at the guy, now talking frantically on the phone, but also nodding at me. “You’re gonna be okay.”
Please be okay.
What was wrong with my chest? Was I having a heart attack? This was not the time to panic. Get a fucking grip, Rangecroft.
“Don’t go.” Milo reached for me.
I squeezed his hand, which looked tiny in mine. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Author's notes:
I’m sorry! I’ll make it up to you!