Chapter 21 Gwen - Thanksgiving Eve #2
“Daisy Stiles wouldn’t be caught dead slumming it with anyone in here. Wouldn’t want to ruin her perfect princess reputation,” Gus says without a hint of a joke in his voice.
“You smell like the bottom of a fucking dumpster, August,” Daisy spits out.
“Do I?” Gus lifts his arm and pretends to sniff. “Huh, the girls I was just talking to must be into it.”
“Well, seeing as how you’re over here with us and not still with them, I wouldn’t bet on that.
But that must be hard for someone with such a small brain to comprehend.
Anyway…” Daisy dramatically turns her body to face away from Gus.
“That was too many words for him. We need to move away now, please.”
Sawyer crashes into Gus’ back and they both stumble forward into the makeshift circle we’ve kind of formed here. I take the moment of disarray to look for my favorite head of curls. I turn my head every which way and can’t see him anywhere among the crowd.
Why isn’t he with Sawyer and Gus? Would he really leave without telling me? Did something happen to Penelope?
Before I have the chance to dive further into this panic, firm hands grip my waist from behind, and I finally let out a deep breath. Before I lean back into Miller’s chest, I see Miller grab two drinks from Chris at the bar to head over to our group.
Wait.
I whirl around in shock, loosening from hands that don’t belong anywhere near me. I face my worst nightmare Dean. “What in the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
“Happy Thanksgiving Eve, baby,” Dean slurs while trying to invade my space again.
I open my mouth to tell him exactly where I wish he would shove it when Miller crosses my path and pushes Dean into the wall behind him. His back slams into the wood, and he bounces forward. He’s off balance thanks to the amount of alcohol he’s probably ingested and loses his footing.
The next few seconds are a blur. Gus is at Miller’s side almost immediately, and I feel Margot grab my arm, pulling me away from the scene unfolding.
There’s yelling, but I can’t make out who’s saying what to who over the music.
People around us have started to stare, and I’m rightfully super nervous we’re about to be thrown out, or worse.
I’m not going to think about the worst case scenario.
I finally snap out of my fog and pull myself away from Margot to get to Miller. I need to get him away from Dean. He cannot fuck his life up over this, over me.
“You’re wasting your time with her. She’s just confused.” Dean’s lies rock through my head, but I keep pushing through the crowd that has now formed.
“Would you shut the fuck up for once in your miserable life?” Gus retorts, successfully holding Miller back. Thank God.
“What’s your stake in this, Burton? You trying to finally get in Red’s pants, too?”
“Why would you even think to say something like that?” I scream and at the exact same time—because of course that’s my fucking luck—the music cuts.
Miller’s head whips to me. “Gwen, you don’t need to be here for this. We’re good. I’m good.”
“That’s zero percent reassuring, actually,” I snap before turning back to Dean.
“You want a show? Fine. I’m done protecting the peace.
Here it is. We go around and around with this conversation far too often for me to let it keep happening.
We’re done. Divorced. I hate you. Every single part of you. ”
For as drunk as he probably is, I see every word I say register on his face. His eyes go from antagonizing to cold within seconds, and if I didn’t have Miller and Gus on either side of me, I’ll admit I’d probably be scared right about now.
“You’re…You’re a—” Dean sputters.
“Say it,” Miller breathes. “Say whatever was about to pour out of your fucking mouth and watch what happens.” At this, Gus lets go of Miller, and he takes one step forward, closing in on Dean’s space.
Ben and Dylan, Dean’s two right hand idiots, stand off to the side, clearly ready to jump in if needed. Until and unless that’s necessary, they aren’t bothering with the show.
“Fitzgerald.” A deep voice booms from behind us, a voice I haven’t heard in a while. I turn to see the only officer in the entire department who isn’t a braindead loser. Dean’s boss, Mark.
I should say he’s Dean’s old boss as he’s retired now.
He never said much about the end of his career, but most of us know it has to do with the inner workings of how the department operates, who they hire, how they run things; it’s not great.
He left because he was done with the bullshit, and Dean took that as his opportunity to run wild.
“Get the fuck outside now,” Mark commands.
There’s no room for argument, and Dean doesn’t press for one.
Because even with Mark out of his official role, when he steps into one of authority even temporarily, Dean listens.
He always has. I don’t fully understand why, but at this moment, I don’t particularly care.
Dean nods his head once, not even bothering to give us another look before storming through the crowd of people surrounding us.
His baboons follow him while Mark trails the three of them to make sure they find their way out.
The DJ awkwardly brings the music back up to a normal volume, and everyone around us tries to shake off the last five minutes. I keep my feet firmly planted in place, trying to get a hold of my emotions, but I feel my lip start to quiver. I hate that I’m a fucking crier when I’m angry.
I jump when a hand finds mine and pull back in fear of my comfortability wronging me again. But Miller’s voice finds my ear. “It’s me, Gwen. God, I’m so sorry—”
I pivot to throw my arms around him and bury my face in his neck. I don’t want him to apologize. He has nothing to be sorry for. I breathe him in while his hands slide up and down my back as I take deep breaths.
“Come on, let’s go take a minute,” he whispers. I keep my head down and hold onto Miller’s hand like a lifeline as he pulls me through the bar.
We make it to the bathrooms that are tucked into the back corner, and by some miracle, one is open. Miller guides me inside and without a word, picks me up and plops me onto the sink’s counter. His hands continue to comfort me, now sliding up and down the tops of my thighs.
When his head finally lifts, and I get the chance to get lost in those green eyes, my hands instantly find his face.
I caress his sharp jawline and take in all of Miller’s features.
His long, thick, black eyelashes bat at me when he blinks.
I feel my fury begin to dissipate as the comfort that is Miller Caswell’s presence washes over me.
I even crack a smile at the freckle that lives so perfectly right above his lips, lips I’ve come to love getting to know.
I reach up and flick off his hat, letting his curls loose so I can make a mess of them. We both say nothing, and it’s the most comfortable silence.
“You said you had to tell me something,” I finally say.
“I did,” he confirms.
“It’d be nice if you informed me of that thing like, now. Now would be cool.”
“First, I need to know you’re okay.”
“I am,” I assure him. “I don’t want the focus of tonight to be on that. Please.”
He leans forward and captures my mouth with his. I’m lost in him instantly, pulling him closer in between my legs so his chest is flush with mine. It helps to feel that he’s really just fine after all of that, sturdy as ever. We get lost like this for a minute until he pulls away.
“I have a big, fat crush on you, Gwendolyn Bozelli. It’s more than a crush, actually. I like you, a lot. Penelope does, too. And I’m pretty fucking sick of pretending I like the friends who kiss label we have going on.”
Clear words and grand declarations I never would have asked for. But (not so?) secretly longed for. A sort of peace washes over me that has me feeling more than ready to get the hell out of here and only focus on the sweet man in front of me.
“Can I ask you a favor?”
“I’ll do pretty much anything you ask, beautiful. I’ve only told you a hundred times.” Miller presses his forehead into mine. His voice is shaky.
Oh, I do not ever want this sweet boy to have a single doubt about how I feel about him.
He needs to know exactly where I’m at. He deserves that.
Although, I’ll never understand how he doesn’t see it.
He goes to bat for me with everything, he picks up where I leave off.
I’m the one who feels like I have to play catch up to be someone he wants and needs.
“Take me home, Miller.”
The smile that breaks out across his face could end our search for world peace, I’m sure of it. He lifts me off the counter and without letting me down, brings my face back to his. Miller leaves light kisses, and I giggle into him. I wrap my legs around his waist, refusing to let go.
He continues to carry me, and when he unlocks the door, we almost slam right into Margot. Sawyer is standing behind her, leaning over to rest his head on her shoulder. “Heyyyyyyoutwooooo,” Sawyer slurs while wiggling his eyebrows.
“Big guy over here is ready to call it an early night,” Margot tells us, slapping his chest lovingly. “I saw you head in this direction and wanted to make sure you were good before we took off. You are good, right?”
I tap Miller on the shoulder so he knows to let me down. “More than good. We’re about to leave, too.” I bring Margot in for a hug and hold her tight. “I love you, thank you,” I whisper so only she hears.
“I love you,” Margot replies and lowers her voice to match mine. “You deserve this; right here, right now. Not what happened before. Don’t let him take your joy.”
“Never again,” I tell her confidently.
Miller claps Sawyer on the back and checks in with Margot to see if she needs any help hauling all six-foot-three inches of Sawyer Hale out of here, but she assures us she’s fine.
I catch Daisy with a group of girls we used to have class with and tell her goodbye. We scan the room for Gus but can’t find him anywhere. It seems impossible that we could miss him because normally he’s the biggest guy in the room anywhere he goes.
Miller pulls out his phone and sends him a quick text when we get outside. We didn’t last long enough to need a designated driver so Miller guides me around the back to where he parked his car so we can go back to the house. Thankfully there’s no Dean or his cronies in sight.
We walk hand in hand, and I smile down at our fingers intertwined. When we both hear Miller’s phone go off, we’re happy to see Gus responded, letting Miller know he was fine.
Typical Gus to take off and think no one was going to notice or care about his disappearance.
“You know,” Miller says, pulling me out of my head. “We could just head on up to the apartment.”
“I know.” I swing our arms between us. I look up at him with a smirk. “But my bed’s bigger.”