Chapter 22 Daisy
I get why Miles kept what Isaac did from me, but I also hate that he felt the need to.
We can’t lie to each other when everything is still so raw.
It will only drive a wedge between us and create feelings of resentment.
We’re in a good place now, but we could very easily slip back to where we were, and that’s the last thing either of us wants.
We’ve now started locking the door to our house given what happened.
It’s not something either of us is used to because around here, we’ve always just left our doors unlocked.
This side of the island is small and quiet, never needing to worry about someone breaking into a house or stealing.
Who would have thought we’d need to worry about someone we once called a friend?
“Daze?” Miles calls out, finding me in the bakery, or what will one day be the bakery.
He comes through the back door, calling my name again as he moves to the front of the store where I’m cleaning the windows.
They’re covered in years of dust and grime, and while it’s not going to make much of a difference, it’s the one thing I can work on until the contractors get started.
They’ll be covered again once work starts, but I want to get some “coming soon” signs up, letting everyone know that this building will no longer be sitting empty.
“Up front!” I yell back, but he’s already standing next to me.
“Good morning,” he whispers, his mouth next to my ear as he presses a soft kiss to my neck. “We good, Daze?”
His question is asked with hesitation, a reluctance to know the answer dancing between us.
He swallows hard, his throat bobbing as he waits, and I take in his dark eyes, patient but worried.
The air around us fills with the scent of him—vanilla surf wax and cedar—and I want to tell him everything is perfect, but we both know it’s not.
“We are good, but we can’t do this again. We can’t keep things from each other. Ever,” I say, a firmness to my words that is there to remind me that I’m also talking to myself.
It isn’t just Miles that needs to hear this. I’m the one who started dating his best friend and never said a word to him. I avoided bringing Isaac around when we’d all get together because I knew I had something to hide.
But all that is out in the open now. It’s in the past, something I longed for, and I will not let Isaac get inside my head again. I will not let him screw up what I worked so hard to get back to.
“I know,” Miles replies, his jaw tight, his response resolute with honesty. “It’s just so hard to be okay with all the shit he’s done and continues to do.”
“It’s my fault, and I won’t let you tell me it isn’t. It is, Miles. We both know that. If I hadn’t gotten together with him, none of this would be happening.”
“And I could say the same thing. If I hadn’t kicked him out of the band, none of this would have happened,” he hits back, and I nod softly.
In the end, I guess we’re both to blame.
“But no more secrets,” I confirm, looping my arms around his neck, holding him close to me. “I need to know when things like this happen.” My words grow softer at their implication, the unspoken fear that lingers in the back of my mind.
“Same goes for you. If he comes by the bar, harassing you, I want to know,” Miles mutters through clenched teeth.
Just the mention of Isaac brings out a possessiveness in him that I never knew existed. A part of me loves it, but another part wants to remind him that I don’t need protecting. I’ve handled Isaac up until this point all on my own, albeit not well, but I did it.
“Do you think…” I stop, my thought trapped on my tongue, not wanting to say it out loud for fear it will put a reality to it that I hate to think exists.
Miles eases me back, his hands gripping my upper arms, the tenseness passing over him as I watch his body go rigid. I didn’t even say it, but he knows what I’m thinking. Silently, he searches my face, my bottom lip pulled between my teeth as I chew on it anxiously.
A pained expression paints his features, and he runs a hand over the scruff of his unshaven face. Shaking his head, he lets out a hard breath.
“I don’t want to think about having to do that,” Miles eventually admits, and again I find myself nodding slightly.
I go back and forth wondering if I should file a restraining order against Isaac.
Coming into the bar is one thing. It’s a public space, something that I have no control over, and if he’s a paying customer, I would never take that from Lisa.
But coming into mine and Miles’s home, knowing we weren’t there, painting the word “whore” on our bedroom wall, is a different level of bold.
I keep telling myself he’ll move on. He’ll find someone new to control, forgetting that he lost me to Miles. What if I’m wrong, though?
If I sat down and figured out how long Isaac and I were actually together, it would probably be less than six months. We’d break up constantly, sometimes for weeks, going without speaking to each other after a massive fight, only to reunite after I’d be overrun with guilt and self-doubt.
It was always me who returned to him, and I feel disgusting about that, making this situation even worse now. Had I not gone back, had I not let him ruin my self-esteem, I wouldn’t have to consider if I need a restraining order.
“It’s going to be okay,” Miles whispers, his forehead resting against mine, our eyes closed, and I take in a long, slow breath. “It won’t get to that. You’re safe with me, Daisy. This is our home, our future, and he doesn’t get to take that from us.”
“Thank you.” It’s said with promise, with genuine appreciation for him and where we are now as a couple.
Cupping my cheek with his calloused hand, his thumb brushes gently over my skin. Pulling back, our eyes meet, and I feel the warmth radiating between us. There is no one in the world who can make me feel the way Miles does.
Secure and safe, wanted and loved, but on a deeper level, it’s a connection that has spanned years. We were destined to be together, and the universe knew that, bringing us back together when we thought all was lost.
“Good luck today.” A soft smile crosses his lips, a reminder of what’s coming up. “If you need me, just call. I’ll be at Orchid Bay till eleven and then with Kai making boards at my dad’s shop.”
“I’m good.” I tilt my head to the small table and chairs Miles set up for me in the corner of the room. “Just some brainstorming with Sloane.”
“And demo of…” Miles pauses, pulling his brows together as he scans the room. “Whatever this is.” A chuckle leaves him, deep and sexy, sending my heart beating at a furious speed, and I close my eyes, trying to shake off the feeling only he can bring out in me.
Hearing his laugh, the way he’s so protective over me, the heat that radiates from him when our bodies are close together. It all reminds me of how much we fit together, how much we need each other and how he makes me feel complete.
His smile widens, showing off his perfectly straight, white teeth, and fuck, he’s gorgeous. He’s making it hard not to suggest we just head back home and climb into bed.
“You don’t want to keep any of this, right?” he questions, walking over to where these old, rickety wooden shelves span the room. “And the floor is coming up too?”
The room is basically just a shell, almost as if someone started working on it but left it as is.
It’s musty and decrepit, and thinking back to when I was a kid, I can’t remember there being anything here.
No bakery or coffee shop, no little grocery store or tourist shop selling leis and coconuts.
It’s always just been empty, but not for long.
“All of it’s going. A clean slate.”
“I like that,” Miles says, hooking an arm around my waist and pulling me to him with a hearty tug. My chest crashes into his, and I let out a giggle.
I press my lips to his, and the second his tongue touches mine, all the air escapes my lungs, and warmth pools between my thighs.
“How about I make you giggle like that later tonight?” Miles suggests, winking at me before leaning in and kissing me again. “I have some ideas of where to put my mouth that will make you laugh like that.”
The sound of someone clearing their throat stops us from going any further, and we both turn to see Sloane standing at the back entrance to the bakery.
“Hope I’m not interrupting,” she says, a smile on her tanned face, her blue eyes sparkling with happiness as she takes in Miles and me.
“Nope, all good,” I tell her, stepping away from Miles to walk over to where she’s standing.
“Maybe a little,” Miles counters with a wink, and Sloane and I both let out a laugh. Shaking my head, I give him a quick kiss before he can head out the door.
“I’m gonna go. You two have fun with the planning,” Miles now says. “Call me if you need anything, babe.”
“I will. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
As soon as the door closes, Sloane lets out a high-pitched shriek, clapping her hands as she does this cute little dance.
“You two are so damn cute,” she croons, letting out another squeal. “There’s something just so pure and sweet about a second chance.”
“Oh my god, Sloane, you make us sound like a romance novel,” I tell her, rolling my eyes but secretly basking in the idea myself.
She walks over to the little table and sets down her laptop and bag, a few things sliding out as she does, scattering them on the surface.
“There’s nothing wrong with happily ever after,” she quips. Picking up a pen and notepad, she begins jotting something down. “I never thought I’d find it, and look at where I’m at now.” She pauses, looking over at me. “Right?”
“Happily ever after is good. It’s better than good.”
“It is, so where do you want to start?” Her question is asked as she continues scanning the room, and I wonder what is going through her head.
Sloane has an amazing eye for creating, and I know she’s designing in her head right now, looking for all the places in the empty space that she can make look perfect with her art.
As much as I want to get moving on the branding and design for the bakery, I can’t help but want to ask Sloane for her advice on the situation with Isaac.
Having been through something similar with her mom, she’s the one person who will understand my hesitance to do anything that draws attention to what Isaac is doing.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Of course,” Sloane responds, tilting her head to the side as she eyes me with questioning reverence. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, yeah.” But I shake my head because things aren’t okay, and ignoring them isn’t going to make it any better. “Not really,” I finally admit, and Sloane motions to the table. Pulling out a chair, she sits down.
“What’s going on? Let me guess, it’s something to do with Isaac.”
“Shit, how’d you know?” Sarcasm laces my words as I give a shrug. “Do you think I should file a restraining order against him?”
The question comes out fast and with a little more fear than I expect. Like before, saying it out loud makes it more real, more concerning.
“That’s a hard question to answer,” Sloane replies. “I want to tell you yes because he’s a dick and I hate him, but it’s hard to know if you’re overreacting or being dramatic. At least that’s how it always felt when it came to my mom.”
“That’s exactly how I feel. Am I just pissed because he won’t go away, or am I really at risk for something bad happening?”
“Has he done anything recently besides show up at the bar and be the annoying dick he’s always been?” Sloane asks, and I swallow hard.
“He painted the word ‘whore’ on the wall in mine and Miles’s bedroom, and Miles kept it from me. He just painted over it like it never happened.”
I let out a hard exhale, a feeling of anxiousness taking over as I admit this to her. It’s hard to process how it makes me feel because it’s a mix of emotions, and in my head, I cycle through multiple worst-case scenarios.
But I always go back to the same thing.
I’m overreacting.
“What makes you angrier?” Sloane prompts. “That Isaac did that or that Miles kept it from you?”
“Fuck, Sloane, it’s too early for a question that deep,” I reply, and while she smiles at me, her question is exactly what I need.