Chapter 12
I check the time as we pull into the driveway of my mom’s little house.
It might be tiny, but I’m proud of her for buying it when my dad left, something that is a struggle for a single mom.
She also knew she couldn’t stay in the house she owned with my dad, selling it and taking what little profit she got and reinvesting it into a place we could call home—something stable, something permanent.
She leaves for work soon, again, a job she had when my dad left, a job that allowed for things like health insurance and retirement, so at least there was that.
I hate that she had to work so hard to support us, and that at times, I was a shitty teenager causing her far too much grief, unlike my older sister, who was the perfect teenager.
Worse is that I came back and did it a second time when I hooked up with Isaac. After the house I shared with Sloane was sold, I had no choice but to move back in with her. With that came all the drama of dating Isaac and her opinion of it.
I can hear her bustling around the kitchen as I push open the front door. Cleaning up and making sure everything is spotless so when she comes home from work, so she can just relax. Things I at least help with since she’s letting me live here for free.
“Hey, Mom!” I call out, Miles tagging behind me. He has this nervous grin on his face, and there’s something about it that makes me laugh.
We’re adults now, but he looks so much like the kid who used to sneak in my bedroom window. Worried he was going to get caught and my mom would call his mom, and Luna was and still is one fiery lady. You’d have to be to raise boys like Miles and Kai and be married to Tanner.
“Oh, Daze, where you been?” she asks, and I realize I never texted her last night to say I wasn’t coming home. Not that it matters. She knows I spend the night at Alana’s or Sloane’s pretty regularly.
She doesn’t look up from wiping down the counter, focused on the activity at hand, but she begins talking again before I can answer.
“You are never going to believe who I saw this morning when I ran down to the grocery store to grab milk.”
Pausing, she looks up, blowing her dark hair out of her face, her eyes crinkling in the corners, a smile widening the second she sees Miles.
“Oh, Miles,” she croons, her shoulders sagging with relief. Scampering over to him, she pulls him in for a hug. “How are you? I’ve missed this face of yours.” Patting his cheek, she steps back, letting out a little laugh.
“What was that for?” I ask, clearly able to tell she wants to say something more. “This is your chance. Let me have it. Isaac is gone. For good.”
Again, she chuckles. “I know that. You wouldn’t believe how quickly word travels around here. But I saw him at the grocery store this morning with two black eyes. Now you know I never condone violence because I’m a mom and he’s someone’s baby, but way to go, Miles.”
“Wasn’t me,” Miles confesses, shrugging. Plucking an orange from the bowl on the counter, he begins peeling it, casual as hell, like nothing has changed.
“Daisy?” she questions, her eyes wide, and I can’t tell if she’s proud or embarrassed.
“It wasn’t me either, Mom. It was Kai. Lisa called him after Isaac came into the bar and wouldn’t leave.”
“Well, who would have thought that lovable goofball could land a blow like that?” she says, letting out a low whistle.
“I did,” Miles chimes in. “He was mean as fu…” Miles trails off, not saying the word despite us both being adults. He’s still so sweet around my mom that it makes my heart ache for all the time we missed. “He was mean when we were kids. Would punch me for no reason.”
“And now look, he’s doing your dirty work,” my mom jokes. “Oh, shit, I gotta go.”
Grabbing her purse from the counter, she kisses me on the cheek and then Miles as she races toward the door. Running late is just how she operates, and I’m not sure she could function without always having to be in a hurry. I swear she’s the only one on this island not on island time.
Turning back to look at us, she asks, “So is this a thing now?” She motions between us with her hand, waiting in the doorway for us to answer so she can scramble out to her car.
“I don’t know, Mom,” I whine, rolling my eyes. “Why do you need a title? Can’t it just be—”
“It’s a thing, Tara. A good thing,” Miles interrupts, and I swear the smile on my mom’s face widens bigger than I’ve ever seen.
“Good. Love you both. Maybe I’ll see you tonight.”
“Bye, Mom.”
“Bye, Tara.”
She slams the door behind her, leaving Miles and me standing here with this news passing between us.
The air feels heavy with honesty, and Miles steps closer to me, a sweet but simple smile on his face.
He loves his answer to my mom’s questions.
It’s what he’s wanted since he kissed me in the bar the day I ended things with Isaac.
I worry it’s rushed, that he hasn’t fully forgiven me, and when we argue, it will come back to haunt us. But there’s nothing more that I want in this world than to be with Miles again, to radiate with happiness and feel the security being with him brings me.
“You good?” he asks me, his beautiful brown eyes sparkling with excitement as he wets his lips. Crowding me in against the counter, his legs wide, his hands on either side of me.
He leans in close, his mouth next to my ear.
The warmth of his breath peppers my skin, and I feel a shiver run up my spine.
My body responds like it was made for him, and sometimes I think it was.
That we have history, a history that goes back even before we started dating in high school, before either of us knew what it meant or felt like to fall in love.
“I’ve had my tongue and my dick inside your sweet pussy, Daisy. I’d say that makes us a thing, wouldn’t you?” Every word is loaded with emotion, and he nips at my neck, letting his teeth drag along my sensitive flesh, my pulse beating hard.
“When you put it that way…” I gasp out a breath, wondering how I stayed away from him for the last year.
A broken heart can make you do crazy things, and avoiding Miles was one of them.
Dating Isaac is another, but I’m putting that behind me and coming to terms with Miles and me being a thing again.
We’re more than a thing. I want to spend the rest of my life with him, even if it feels too soon, too rushed to admit that out loud.
It’s literally been only a couple of days.
“I’m not having sex with you in my mother’s house,” I tell him, putting my hands on his chest as I attempt to shove him away.
But he’s bigger than me, and all my shove does is make him laugh. “Never stopped you before. I seem to remember a very reckless sixteen-year-old Daisy who loved the idea of doing it in her bed when I would sneak in through her window.”
“Yeah, well, we can do it anywhere now, and my childhood bedroom in my mother’s house is not one of the places.”
“Anywhere?” Miles questions suggestively. With his head tilted to the side, I can see his mind flashing through all the places he’d love to do it, and I let out a giggle.
“Get your mind out of the gutter, Miles Olsen. You have a surprise for me, and right now I’d like to find out what it is.”
I push up on my toes, kissing the tip of his nose in the sweetest of gestures, hoping to calm him and his dick down.
“Fine, fine. Go change your clothes. I’ll just be out here being boring and behaving myself,” he tells me, picking up his discarded orange.
We’re back in my old Jeep with Miles behind the wheel, and it feels the way it used to.
Us, side by side, his hand resting on my thigh, every so often moving it to shift gears but returning it quickly.
He squeezes gently when we pass our favorite spot to surf, smiling at me, the air blowing through the Jeep.
The ocean is the most gorgeous shade of blue today, pristine and crystal, the sunlight speckling it as it floats along its waves. In the distance, surfers bob in the water, and I listen for their calls, loving the sound of it. It reminds me of everything I love about living here.
“Where are we going?” I now ask, closing my eyes briefly as I bask in the warmth of the sun. “Will you tell me?”
“I won’t, and you know that, but nice try.” Miles smiles at me, but there’s something playful yet hesitant in it, as if he’s unsure of what we’re about to do.
“Are we almost there?” I now ask, prodding for information.
But then he turns onto the street with The Pipe Dream, the street that also has our building on it. The one that sold. The one that just added to my shitty day yesterday.
“New boards at The Pipe Dream? Wetsuits? Lunch with Nate and Sage? Surfing with Alana and Flynn?” I’m hitting him with a million questions, and all he does is shake his head in response.
“Close your eyes,” he tells me, pulling off onto the gravel shoulder of the road, the ocean on one side, all the little shops on the other.
“Seriously?”
“Yes, seriously. I knew you were going to be this way, so I brought a blindfold. Maybe we can use it later too,” he teases.
I do as he says, closing my eyes as he puts the car into gear and begins to drive. The sensation of the road jostles me around with my eyes closed, making me laugh when he hits a couple of potholes, the gravel flying under the spinning tires.
“How long do I have to keep them closed?” I ask, my hand still over them as I try to figure out where we are. I know we were just turning onto the street with The Pipe Dream, but for all I know, he’s driving around just to throw me off.
“Until I tell you not to,” he commands. The warmth of his hand on my thigh sends a jolt of heat through me. “For someone who loves surprises, you are very impatient.” His words hold a teasing quality that makes me laugh.
I feel the car go in reverse and then back forward again before coming to a stop. I listen, trying to see if I can gain some idea of where we are, but I come up short. It all sounds the same: the ocean, the birds, the smell of flowers.
“Don’t move. I’m coming to your side of the car, and I want you to keep your eyes closed,” Miles tells me, and I just nod my head, my lips pursed as I feel a little out of control, not being able to see.
He opens the door, taking my hand, he helps me out, and when my feet touch the ground, I feel gravel. That doesn’t help at all. Most places around here are like that, unlike the paved parking lots of the tourist areas of the island.
With his hands on my hips, he pulls me, walking slowly until he stops only a few steps later. “Okay, open your eyes,” he says, and when I do, I’m standing in front of the little red building I love so much.
The sold sign is still there, the same place it was when I drove past it last night. I swallow back the lump in my throat. I don’t know why he would have brought me here, knowing I was upset about it being sold in the first place.
“Miles, no offense, but this is a shitty surprise,” I say, feeling the tears begin to pool in my eyes.
I had huge plans for this building, but a dream is all it was, and not that I ever thought it would happen anyway. Starting a business takes money, lots of money, and that’s something I don’t have much of.
I could have gone to college, gotten a degree like my mom wanted and like my sister did, but then I would have had to put this unreachable dream on the shelf, and there was something about that I couldn’t do.
And then, when Miles left, I clung to the only thing I felt like I had: this little red building that sat empty for years.
“Thought we’d go see what it looks like inside,” Miles says, as I furrow my brow, shaking my head.
“That sounds like a terrible idea. Actually, it sounds like breaking and entering.” I let out a laugh, trying to make the most of this shitty situation, but Miles doesn’t seem to care.
Instead, he walks right up to the door, fiddling with the lock, kicking the bottom of the door with the toe of his shoe before the door flies open.
“Miles, what the hell are you doing?” I whisper-shout, looking around to make sure no one can see us. “Are you trying to get us arrested? We made it out of our teenage years without it happening. I don’t want it to happen now either.”
“Come on. Let’s take a look,” he says, calling me to him with a hook of his finger. “It’s a mess in here!” he yells, disappearing inside the building.
Again, I scan the area before following him like a complete fool. Whoever owns this building is going to be pissed. They probably have cameras here, and we’re going to be caught.
“Miles,” I call softly, not wanting to draw attention to what we’re currently doing.
But as I step over the threshold of the doorway, my mouth falls open, a gasp slipping out, and I don’t even know what is happening.
There, on the back wall of the messy building full of cobwebs and dust, musty smells, and rusty nails, is a handwritten sign.
Daisy’s Flour Shop: A Cupcake Bakery