Chapter 30 #2
Christ, I knew right at the start I shouldn’t have trusted my gut.
It was wrong. So very, very wrong. Miller is not the person I thought he was.
He’s someone who tricked me into thinking he was kind and generous and thoughtful.
But he’s actually bitter and twisted, and I’m just a pawn in his game of revenge.
He’s been using me. Just like Bastard Brandon did. But on a much bigger scale.
I can still feel where Miller was inside me just hours ago. I can still smell the scent of him on my body.
I have never wanted to dive into the shower and scrub myself harder.
Miller lets go of Skinner and snatches open the vehicle door. “This isn’t a negotiation.” He points at the driver’s seat. “Leave. While your legs still work. And don’t dare come back.”
Afraid that Miller really might be on the verge of getting physical to protect me—or maybe it’s just his potential deal he’s protecting—I move forward in case I have to pull him off.
“Oh, I’m so scared.” Skinner draws out his sarcastic words as he straightens his jacket and climbs into the SUV, his frightened-rabbit expression giving the lie to his overconfident tone.
“I will ruin you.” Miller says. “Fucking ruin you. And I won’t stop until I’ve taken everything you have. Everything you own. Everything you’ve worked for. Everything you love.”
Skinner reaches for the door to shut it, but Miller grasps the top and holds it open.
“Don’t shit on good people.” His voice is steady and deep. “These are the best people I’ve ever met.” He points back toward the house, clearly surprised to find me so close that his finger reaches to only about a foot in front of my face. “And you’re the fucking worst.”
He slams the car door, and Skinner has to whip his foot inside to escape multiple fractures.
Skinner starts the engine.
“Fuck you,” Miller shouts as the SUV backs up with a splatter of mud.
Skinner attempts a patronizing smile and wave through the window, but the fear is written all over his face as he takes off down the driveway.
And I’m left standing with a man I no longer know.
If I ever did.
I slept with someone who was using me. I allowed myself to daydream about how we might be able to make our lives fit together.
I even turned the name Frankie McSweeney over in my mind.
But that’s not even his name. And I have only myself and my terrible instincts to blame for the stabbing pain of shame, hurt and self-recrimination in my chest.
I have never felt so utterly crushed yet so burning with fury in my entire life.
As Skinner turns and disappears out onto the road, Miller’s gaze meets my misty eyes, and he moves toward me. “Frankie, I’m so sorry. So, so sorry.”
I step back. “So it’s true?”
I have to pause to clear my throat, which feels dry and dusty and tight like I haven’t spoken for decades. “The second offer is from you? And you’re only here pretending to help out because you want to convince me to sell to your company, not his?”
“It started like that, yes.” Miller wraps his arms around his naked torso. There’s a look of desperation in his eyes. Is that remorse? Or is he just upset he got caught? “But it changed. Things changed. I’m crazy abou—”
“You gave me a false name.” The anger finds my voice for me again. “You lied to me. And you weren’t advising me to sell because it was best for me, you were doing it because it’s best for you.”
“I know how bad it looks, but—”
“And you’re not really digital-nomading, are you?” My heart races as everything comes flooding back. It’s all crystal clear now. Everything he told me is a lie. “I bet you actually have a big corporate office in Boston, right?”
He looks down and nods.
“It takes a certain type of cold calculating asshole to cook up a whole backstory like that. And, let me guess, you weren’t driving a camper van that got stolen?”
“It’s awful. Terrible. I know it is.” He dances from one foot to the other, maybe because he’s cold, maybe out of frustration. I couldn’t give a shit either way. “But please believe me. Honest to God, I was going to explain it all when I brought your tea up.”
I blow out a long, scoffing breath. “I see who you really are now. You’re a mean, vengeful man whose only priority is revenge.
” The air chills a tear on my cheek that I wasn’t aware had fallen.
“That’s what brought you here. You were just using me to get him back for what he did to your parents. Using me. Deceiving me.”
I banish the tear with the back of my hand and sniff. I am not going to let this man see me break.
“Look.” He points to the kitchen. “There’s a mug of hot water and everything. I was going to curl back up in bed with you and tell you the whole story.”
The idea that I was just in bed with him makes my skin crawl.
I spin around and march back to the house, where I hold open the front door and stare hard at the ground as I wave him inside.
“Oh, thank God. Thank you,” he says, striding past me.
“When you’ve let me explain, you won’t think it’s so bad.
I’m really not that bad. I’m not. And I never meant to sleep with you.
I mean, obviously I meant to sleep with you.
I mean I never meant to before I met you.
As in, it wasn’t part of the plan. It’s just that I totally fell for you and wanted to sleep with you for all the right reasons, nothing but the right reasons, but by then the whole situation had all gone too far, gotten out of control, I was in too deep, and I couldn’t—”
“Get your things and go.” I’m not listening to this bullshit. I stare at my feet. Holding myself as still as possible. If my body doesn’t move, it can’t shake any more tears from my eyes. If I don’t look at him, maybe he won’t exist and none of this ever happened.
He reaches for my arm. “Just give me five minutes to hear me out. Please.”
Before he makes contact, I turn away toward the line of coats and shoes and the stacks of boxes beside them that contain things for the Thanksgiving event this weekend—which now look pathetic rather than full of hope.
“What the fuck is it about me that makes people deceive me?” The thought spills from my lips as I shove my feet into my boots. Miller was only with me to use me for his own ends, just like Bastard Brandon. “I knew it was too good to be true. I knew my gut couldn’t be trusted.”
“Christ, Frankie, there’s nothing wrong with you.
How can you think that? You’re perfect.” Those last two words still me for a moment, stirring something inside me, the part of me that told me I could trust him.
The part of me that, just a few minutes ago, would have thought those words meant all my dreams might come true. The part of me that was so very wrong.
“Just give me a minute to get dressed, then I’ll tell you everything,” he adds.
I snatch my coat off the hook and thrust my arms into it. But the sleeve of my hoodie is too thick and my arm gets stuck halfway and I have to pull it out, wrap the sleeve tightly around my wrist and hold onto it while I try again.
“Please, Frankie,” Miller says softly.
“I’m going to let the donkeys out,” I reply without turning around. “Be gone by the time I’m back.”
“I know I’m the asshole here. But I can explain, let me expl—”
I slam the front door behind me and head toward the stable of donkeys who never let me down, the greens and browns of their empty field blurring in front of me.