32. Miles
32
Miles
I ’m an asshole. I know I should be taking advantage of the situation I’m in and the fact that I have a gorgeous and willing woman to hook up with, especially when our chemistry is off the charts, but I can’t do it. I know I said I was fine with things being temporary, and a part of me knows I should be making the most of the connection I have with Veronica while it’s still an option, but honestly? It’s just not that simple.
As much as I’d like to say Veronica is nothing more to me than being Blair’s quirky and impulsive best friend, that’s just not the truth anymore. She’s way more than that. Not only has she become my friend as well, but she’s weaseled her way in and become one of the most important people in my life.
Every time I see her, my day feels a little brighter, and each smile she sends my way feels like the warm hug I never knew I needed. She’s changed my life completely, and as much as I hate to admit it, it’s been for the better.
Not that she would know that as I’ve actively been going out of my way to avoid her. I get it. I’m a piece of shit. She deserves way more than a man who chooses to sleep with her only to ignore her the next day, but I don’t physically have it in me to act like this is normal or like it’s something I can handle.
I like to think of myself as a tough guy, someone who isn’t afraid of getting hurt, but the last people I truly let in were my parents. When they both showed their true colors and left me broken, I swore I’d never let anyone else get close enough to have that power. Yet, here’s Veronica, inching dangerously close to breaking down all those carefully built walls. As much as I want to let her in, I can’t. Not when we both know this situation isn’t built to last. It’s temporary, and I can’t afford to forget that.
Eventually, our sham of a marriage will be annulled, and she’ll move back out. She’ll once again become nothing more than Blair’s best friend and I think it’s time we both stop acting like reality isn’t breathing down our necks.
Unfortunately, one thing I’ve learned is that the constant proximity in our tiny, cramped apartment makes avoiding her nearly impossible.
That’s precisely why I’ve spent the past few days at work, putting in overtime, or at least attempting to make it look like I am. There really is only so much you can do before you run out of real work.
Sure, the folks of Evergreen are probably thrilled their vehicles are being serviced in record time, but it’s not like we were ever drowning in work to begin with. Then again, maybe that’s a blessing in disguise because these twelve-hour workdays are starting to catch up with me. Case in point: after someone dropped off their truck for an oil change, I was forced to retreat to my office for a breather, my body all but shutting down on me.
Every joint in my body feels like it’s filled with molten lead as I sink into my desk chair, my face falling into my hands.
When the bell rings at the front of my shop, I let out a new groan, for an entirely different reason. I know I want and need the work to avoid a particularly perky little brunette, but I’m not sure I have it in me right now to put on a fake-ass grin and help someone new. I’m running on fumes as it is.
“I’m coming,” I croak, my voice raspy and weak as I struggle to push myself up from the chair, but before I can fully stand Veronica walks into my office. “What are you doing here?” I ask, worry creasing my brow. “Is everything okay?”
“No, things aren’t okay,” she says, her hands landing on her hips. “And I think it’s me who should be asking you that question. You haven’t been home in days. Or, I don’t know, you must have come home at some point since Bubba’s food and water bowl always seem to be filled, but apparently, it’s only when I’m not around. So what the hell is going on? Did my vagina really scare you away?”
I sigh. “Vee—” I start, lifting a hand, but she interrupts before I can say more.
“Don’t ‘ Vee ’ me. I know what you’re doing, but what I really want to know is, why?”
I close my eyes, trying to gather my thoughts, not wanting to make this worse, but it’s as if my brain has flipped the switch to ‘off,’ refusing to put together a clear sentence. “I just... I don’t want things to be weird between us.”
She rolls her eyes. “Too late for that. Things are already weird between us, but what you’re doing is only making it weirder. Yes, I know I was the one who pushed for this,” she says, pointing at me before back at herself, “but I wouldn’t have suggested we do anything if I knew this was how it would end up. If this is any indicator of how it’s going to be from here on out, I’d rather just move out now and salvage what I can.”
“No, that’s not what I want. I don’t want you to leave or move out,” I argue weakly, taking a step toward her as she stays where she is, her hands firmly planted on her hips.
“Why? Clearly, you’re avoiding going home, and I know it’s because of me. I’m not okay with that, and neither is Bubba. He misses you. Hell, I miss you,” she pleads, her eyes softening.
“I miss you too,” I admit. I probably shouldn’t be saying that out loud, especially when I’m still so terrified of becoming even more attached, but in my current state of exhaustion, it’s too hard to lie or say anything else. “I just...” I try again, but my foggy brain continues to work against me. Instead, I shake my head and let out a much-needed, centering breath.
“What’s wrong?” she asks, her brows furrowing as she drops her hands and takes a step forward.
“I’m just tired.” I mumble, not wanting her to worry.
“I’m not surprised. Have you even gotten any sleep these past few days?” she asks, her tone pointed yet concerned. And she’s not wrong—she knows I’ve been sneaking in long after she’s gone to bed and heading out before she wakes up. If I were smart, I would’ve set up a cot in my office given the amount of time I’ve been spending here.
“I’ve gotten a few hours each night,” I offer, attempting to find some relief as I lean back and put most of my weight against my desk.
This doesn’t stop her from worrying, as her eyes take me in appraisingly before she finally steps forward and reaches out to touch my forehead.
“What are you doing?” I snap, swatting at her hand, but given how weak I feel, the effort is wasted.
“Miles Bennett,” she curses, not stopping her movement as she dodges my swat and places her hand on my forehead. “You’re burning up!”
I move my head away from her touch, even though the movement is dizzying. “I’m fine. I think I’ve just overworked myself. All I need is a good night’s sleep, and I’ll be as good as new.”
“This is more than just overworking yourself. You have a fever,” she insists, her hand falling to rest on my cheek. “You’re sick. So what’s happening now is that you’re going home and getting straight into bed.”
With what little energy I can muster, I raise an eyebrow. “You really think that’s going to work and that I’m going to listen to you?”
She tilts her head upward and lets out a small huff. “As a matter of fact, I do.”
“Okay, and what if I decide I’m not going to listen?” I challenge.
“I’m not even going to answer that, because I’m not taking no for an answer. It’s already been decided—you’re coming home with me right now. End of story.”
I wish I could say I had some fight left in me, if only to tease her, but I just don’t. On top of that, lying down sounds heavenly.
“Fine, I’ll head home soon, but I have one more job to finish before I can close up,” I explain, trying not to let the mere idea of working overwhelm me.
She shakes her head. “No, sorry. That’s not happening. I’ll call Sam, have him finish the job, and he’ll close up. As for you, you’re done for the night, and maybe even for the next day or two as well.”
I attempt to raise an eyebrow. “I’m not sure who you think you are—” I start to say, but she doesn’t let me get very far.
“I know exactly who I am. I’m your wife, and your wife says you’re going home and getting into bed, and that’s final.”
I’m not one to give up easily. I’m usually all about fighting the good fight. But damn, hearing her say those words does something to me. I know I shouldn’t let her get under my skin, especially since, deep down I’m fully aware it’s not real, at least not really. Still, no matter how hard I try to keep my guard up, she keeps finding new ways to get in.
What’s more, Sam would kill for the extra hours and only left earlier because we didn’t have any work for him to complete after how much overtime I’ve been putting in.
“Alright, fine. Let me just grab my keys, and we’ll go,” I relent.
“You don’t need your keys. I’m driving you,” she insists, and I’m not sure what to think about her demanding demeanor, especially when I’ve never been all that good at letting other people tell me what to do. Worse yet, I think it’s kind of turning me on. I like bossy Veronica. “And before you worry or argue about it, I’ll have Ford and Blair bring your car home later, because I can assure you, you’re in for a world of disappointment if you think for even one second I’m about to let you drive home in your condition.”
“I have a fever; I’m not dying,” I deadpan.
“Yeah, for now, but we’re not taking any chances. I know you get off on being a grumpy and stubborn asshole who doesn’t like to listen to anybody, but we’re done here. The sooner you get that through your thick skull, the better.”
I sigh, shaking my head. “Fine.”
It’s clear she doesn’t believe me when I insist I’m not dying and can walk by myself as she links her arm through mine as if she’s the one carrying me to the car, but I’m definitely not that far gone. I may feel like crap, but I’m still standing. Yet, I can’t deny how good it feels to have her close and to know that someone genuinely cares enough to be here. It may be a small, simple thing, but damn, it makes all the difference.
Fuck. I thought being around her before was overwhelming, but this is so much worse. An odd, comforting warmth spreads through me, and I’m all too aware it has nothing to do with the fever and everything to do with the woman walking beside me. And that is truly fucking terrifying.