2. Milo
Author’s Note:
Sorry this chapter took forever. I ended up coughing and sneezing, and I figured I had the flu, which is totally ridiculous because I assumed I couldn’t get sick, since my boyfriend doesn’t get sick.
So after two days of misery, I finally went to the doctor, and I found out I wasn’t actually sick.
I, apparently, am allergic to the flowers that Dex had gotten me.
He promised to only bring me home severed body parts as gifts in the future, since that’s more our love language anyway.
MILO
It wasn’t like I really wanted to burn down the cabin. So what did it matter that the hot guy in the woods had apparently gotten to it before I did?
I snorted. “I don’t know anything about a cabin,” I muttered to myself, because that’s what the guy had said. “I don’t have a cell phone.” I snorted again, because he hadn’t even silenced it.
It wasn’t like I wanted to kill people. The first time had actually been more of an accident than a purposeful killing, not that the asshole didn’t deserve it.
Then when Beatrice had asked me to take care of another guy who was hurting her granddaughter, I’d had a hard time saying no.
And so I found myself serving as an assassin (among other things) for a group of folks at a retirement home.
Old people didn’t take any shit, and they didn’t like anyone fucking with their family or friends. Plus, they were really sweet when you did favors for them. And I got a lot of homebaked cookies.
My suitcase got stuck on a root, and I only managed to not trip by grabbing onto a hanging branch. The thing was fucking heavy. Who knew flammable materials and everything you’d need to burn down a cabin would weigh so much?
I went over and tried to unstick the fucker. “Smooth 360-degree mobility, my ass,” I muttered, finally managing to get it up and over the roots.
I really hoped the guy in the woods had burned the cabin down while the creepy fuckers who lived there were still in it. They were nutjobs, and there was a good possibility that they’d been kidnapping people.
Not that I would go killing people based on a “good possibility.” I was happy to be a fix-it guy for my crew, but I had to have limits. So I’d set up a camera in the woods facing the cabin. Pretty easy to do. I hadn’t seen anyone get kidnapped.
What I saw was truly horrible, though. They were killing animals. Those people deserved to fucking suffer. I mean, yeah, killing people was bad and all, but some people kind of deserved to die. But animals? Fuck, no. Not on my watch.
I made it to my car and dragged the suitcase up and into the trunk. I thought I heard something in the woods, but when I looked around, there was no one there.
“Fucking cults,” I muttered, then I got in the car and headed off to report back on the events of the afternoon.
“Did you kill them?” Ethel asked the minute she opened the door.
I rolled my eyes, and she moved back so I could walk in. I was reminded of Aunt Anabelle when I walked in the room (because calling it an apartment would be too generous); Ethel had basically adopted me when I was young along with Aunt Anabelle, so it was a comfort to be there with her.
Luckily, thanks to her pranks, she also hadn’t gotten a new roommate after Aunt Anabelle was gone.
The knock on her door before I’d even gotten seated reminded me that retirement homes were filled with busybodies, and I was sure the crew would descend on me any minute now. Sure enough, within fifteen minutes a collection of old people was sitting around, eating cookies, and chatting.
“Milo, honey, do you think you could look at the drain in my shower? You know how long the maintenance crew takes to fix things,” Beatrice asked.
“Sure. No problem,” I said, pulling out my phone. I deleted “Cabin cleaning” and put “Beatrice shower drain” on my to-do list. “Anyone else?”
Of course, almost everyone had some odd job or another for me to handle, but luckily there didn’t seem to be any murders on the list today. I got it all written down, and then George said, “So…”
Everyone looked at me expectantly.
“Well, I was taking a leisurely stroll through the woods”—Ethel snorted—“and happened upon another guy walking in the woods. Big guy. Super tall and well-built. Red hair and hazel eyes. Anyway, it seemed there was a cabin nearby on fire.”
“Wait, does that mean Milo didn’t burn down the cabin and the other guy did?” Judy whispered loudly to Harold.
“Oh, does Milo have competition?” Rose asked.
“Well, I highly doubt this redheaded giant will be coming here to fix my shower drain, so I wouldn’t say he’s competition,” Beatrice replied.
“Sounds like you noticed how he looked, though, eh?” Harold commented.
Everyone stopped and looked at me. Shit. You do not want a crew of old people with a lot of time on their hands trying to be matchmakers.
I held my hands up. “I’m sure he’s long gone. He wasn’t from around here. The main point is, the cabin is gone, and hopefully the psychopaths who lived there are gone, too.”
Everyone nodded in agreement, and then we got back to cookies and gossip.
Before long, the cribbage board was pulled out.
As much as I wanted to stay for a game, I knew I’d end up here until midnight.
When you were retired and lived in a retirement home, apparently bedtime had no meaning whatsoever.
I took my leave of everyone, and Ethel walked me to the door. “Why don’t you stop in the diner and get some dinner, sweetie. I’m sure everyone there would be happy to see you.”
I stopped, hand on the door. “Is someone having issues there?” I asked.
Okay, so maybe I ended up fixing a few things for people who worked at the diner as well. I’d worked there for a short stretch, and I’d gotten really friendly with everyone. They were like family now, and I took care of family.
“I don’t think so. Beatrice’s niece just mentioned that she hadn’t seen you in awhile.”
I nodded my head, then I headed out. I was planning on driving home, but the house I had inherited from Aunt Anabelle was lonely without her there.
My parents had passed away when I was young, and Aunt Anabelle had raised me.
It was wonderful to still have the crew at the retirement home to take care of, but I still missed my aunt fiercely.
I pulled into a parking spot in front of the diner, got out, and headed inside.
I sat down at the counter and chatted with the waitresses and the cook for a few minutes.
It wasn’t long before Marcy headed in my direction, leaning over the counter.
I could make out, beneath the make-up on her face, a bruise on her cheekbone.
She had covered it well, but it was noticeable close up.
“Gurl, I’ll kill him for you,” I told her quietly.
Marcy shook her head, then nodded, then shook her head. She breathed out a sigh. “He’s the father of my child. He’s really great with our son, too. It’s just me that he can’t stand.”
“You have to leave him,” I told her. “It’s only getting worse.”
“This is what happened when I talked about us separating,” she said, motioning toward her face. “He also said he’d fight for full custody of Aaron, and that he could get plenty of people to say that I was an unfit mother.”
“That fucker. I’ll take care of it, Marcy. Don’t worry.”
She looked into my eyes, then she reached out and squeezed my hand. “I want my son to grow up with a father, but I don’t want him to grow up in a toxic home.”
I nodded my head. I got it. No killing Kevin—just doing something to make him leave her alone and be a reasonable human being. Yeah, that was going to be harder than killing him, but I’d try and figure something out.
Marcy went back to her tables. I was thinking about the problem when I noticed a redheaded giant walk into the diner out of the corner of my eye.
Rowan tried to be discreet in choosing a booth to sit at, but the man was simply huge, and there was no way for him to skulk about.
Half the restaurant watched him, and I could tell the poor guy was feeling a little self-conscious.
He took his phone out right away and buried his head in it, like that would make him less noticeable.
I headed over and sat across the booth from him, pulling out a menu. “The tuna salad wraps are amazing. The caesar salad ones are great, too. I can never decide between them.”
He looked up at me, surprised. “Why are you sitting here?”
“Well, I’m hungry, and I thought I’d order something. You apparently had the same idea.” I smiled at him.
“We don’t know each other.”
I chuckled. He was funny. “Of course we do.”
“We met like an hour ago,” he answered.
“Yeah, but that’s like a decade in attempted arson years.”
He blushed, his face almost matching his hair. My god, the man was adorable.
Marcy chose that moment to walk over and ask what we wanted to order. I flip-flopped between the tuna salad and the caesar salad wrap, but I finally settled on tuna. Rowan ordered the caesar salad wrap, and then Marcy took our menus and went off toward the kitchen.
Rowan’s phone started dinging, and we both looked at where he’d set it on the table. The messages were from someone named Riley, and Rowan groaned when he saw the name.
“Ex?” I asked.
“Worse. Sister,” he answered.
“Oh. I wouldn't know. I’m an only child. I always thought it would be nice to have siblings, though. I can’t imagine a sister being worse than my ex, anyway.”
Rowan tilted his head at me. “Bad breakup?”
Marcy brought out our sandwiches at that moment, and then Rowan did the sweetest thing ever. He took half of his and switched it for half of mine. I beamed at him, but he only grunted in response. He was like a giant red-headed teddy bear.
“Oh. My. God. You are the sweetest man on the face of the earth, and I think maybe we should get married.” I took a bite of my wrap, groaning in approval.
Rowan looked mildly disturbed, but he picked up his wrap and took a bite. His phone dinged again, but he studiously ignored it. When it started playing “Bad Reputation,” I reached over and picked up the phone.
“Hello. This is Rowan’s phone,” I said.
Rowan looked mortified, but he didn’t reach over to grab the phone. There was silence on the other end of the line, then a female voice asked, “Who is this?”
“Milo,” I answered. “I’m currently eating lunch with Rowan, and we split the caesar salad and tuna wraps because your brother is a giant teddy bear.”
Rowan looked shocked at that, but his sister replied, “Rowan doesn’t like tuna.”
“O. M. G.” I dragged out. “That makes it even sweeter.” I looked at Rowan. “Oh, boo, you don’t even like tuna and you still split with me?”
Rowan looked like a deer caught in headlights, so I went back to the phone call. “Anywho, we’re gonna finish lunch, then I might drag Rowan with me to threaten an abusive husband, so he’ll have to call you back later. Thanks! Bye!”
I hung up before she could do more than sputter, then I took another bite of my wrap, groaning at the taste.
“Mmmm. These are so good,” I said when I finished chewing. “Come on, eat up. Abusive husbands don’t threaten themselves, you know.”
Rowan didn’t answer, but the man did take a bite of his wrap, so I considered it a win.