Chapter 22
Miles
As I peel myself away from Vivian, it’s not because I want to. It’s because I have to.
Another second standing that close to her, and I’d be kissing her again—this time without holding back.
The soft curve of her lips, the subtle brush of her arm against mine…
it’s too damn easy to start thinking unholy things.
Things I shouldn’t be thinking about when her dad’s flipping burgers in the backyard and her daughter’s running around with a tiara and a juice box.
I walk off and end up in the kitchen, expecting to find Greg and Mindy doing the dishes like they said they would. But the sink still has a small stack of plates and the drying rack’s untouched.
They better not be screwing around in this house.
I head upstairs just to make sure. It’s quiet, too quiet, and every door is cracked open, except the bathroom.
I knock.
“Yeah?” Greg’s voice comes through.
Goddammit.
“Are you guys…” I ask, already bracing myself.
“Oh my god, no,” Mindy cuts in, laughing from inside.
“Well, what are you doing?” I press, already rolling my eyes.
“We’re making out, Cowboy. Go find someone else to annoy. How about your Bambi?” she teases, smug as hell.
I laugh, shaking my head. “Keep it PG in there, all right? There’s a five-year-old in this house who’s nosy as hell.”
As I walk away, I come across a room with a pink wooden sign that reads Riley in glitter paint. The door’s ajar. I lean against the frame and glance inside.
It’s a pink explosion of everything princess and horse related—tea sets, sparkly shoes, tiny tiaras, cowgirl hat with boots, plush toys scattered across the floor like a tornado of glitter hit the place.
The walls are soft blush with glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling and a fluffy pink bunny lounging on her little bed like he owns it.
It’s chaos…but the sweetest kind.
And it hits me—this is what love looks like. Safety. Care. Innocence. A girl who knows she’s adored.
The kind of childhood I never had.
My bed had no frame. Just a thin mattress on a bed that wasn’t the most comfortable thing I slept on.
My clothes were mostly big on me as they were donated.
I had three hand-me-down toys that did nothing to distract from the sounds of my stepdad shouting, fists hitting walls, or worse.
Greg gave me a pair of headphones for my sixth birthday.
He didn’t say why, but I think he knew. I’d put them on and play the music his family always had in their house—happy music, loud music and pretend I lived there instead.
That I had parents who smiled more than they fought.
I never met my real dad, he left when he found out my mom was pregnant with me. My mom wasn’t a bad person before she met him, she provided for me, took care of me, then one day she met him and everything went to hell.
I feel her before I hear her, fingers light on my arm, a touch that calms my body but wakes something else entirely.
“Hey,” she says softly. “You okay?”
I straighten, swallowing the emotion I didn’t expect to creep in. “This room is very…”
“Riley,” she finishes, grinning.
That smile could wreck a man. I swear, it already is.
“She’s got her whole world right here,” I murmur, glancing around again. “You’re raising her right, Viv.”
Her eyes soften. “I’m trying.”
“You’re doing more than trying.”
The air between us shifts—gentle, thick, something unspoken pressing between our bodies. I can feel the urge again, curling low in my gut. The desire to touch her. To kiss her. To give in.
But I don’t. Not yet.
Not when her daughter’s tiara is on the dresser and Vivian’s dad’s probably yelling at the grill.
Vivian steps closer. “Thank you,” she says quietly, like it costs her something to admit it. Her gaze lingers on my face, drops to my mouth for the briefest second.
I swear to god, I might combust.
But all I do is smile, slow and crooked. “Anytime, Bambi.”
We’re leaning in again. Slowly. Like we both know exactly what we want—and we’re finally ready to take it.
Her breath is soft against my skin. My hand nearly grazes her hip, the air between us crackling with tension. My gaze flicks to her lips, parted ever so slightly, like she’s just waiting for—
Click.
The bathroom door swings open behind us, and both our heads snap toward it.
Of course.
Greg and Mindy step out, looking far too smug for two people who claimed they were just talking.
Vivian spins around, her face twisted in suspicion. “Oh, you two better have not—”
Mindy throws up her hands, crossing her arms. “Why does everyone keep assuming that?”
Vivian narrows her eyes and points accusingly down the hallway. “Because you two are like rabbits in mating season. Now, go downstairs before my dad walks up here and catches you.”
Greg snorts. “Nothing happened, don’t worry.”
She gives him a deadpan look, then laughs, shaking her head. “With you two, it’s unpredictable.”
Greg and I exchange a look, and I smirk. Damn. We really did find ourselves some firecracker women. It’s been nearly two months since this little circle of ours formed, and weirdly enough, it works. Like we’ve all been orbiting around each other for years, waiting to collide.
“What is with those two?” I murmur, watching Vivian shake her head as she follows them toward the stairs.
“That’s what I keep wondering.” She faces me and rolls her eyes, letting out a light laugh, rubbing her forehead like she’s exhausted by them—in the best way. “You did great tonight, by the way. My dad can be very—”
“Protective?” I tease, raising a brow.
She tilts her head, that ponytail bouncing with the movement. “I was going to say intimidating.”
Her voice is softer now. Like she’s opening a door without realizing it.
“You’ve got a beautiful home, Viv. One that feels…full. Of love. Of people who give a damn.”
She’s quiet at that. I know what she’s thinking—she’s thinking about my past, about the childhood I didn’t get. About what it means for someone like me to say something like that.
But I don’t need pity.
I’m grateful for what I’ve got, especially after I turned seven. Greg’s family gave me a second shot. Doesn’t mean I don’t still think about what could’ve been. But it does mean I don’t take any of this—her—for granted.
She’s not wrong.
Sometimes I wonder what it would’ve been like, having this kind of life, the kind built on love instead of survival. Three years of trauma leaves a mark. It doesn’t just fade because the pain stopped.
But what I did get after that? It saved me. Greg’s family didn’t just take me in, they gave me a new start. Gave me a shot at something better.
And yeah, I’m still grateful as hell for it.
But I get why she’d wonder. Why she might think I’d trade everything I have now just to rewrite what came before.
Truth is, I wouldn’t. Not anymore.
Because everything I lived through led me here.
Vivian looks at me then. Really looks.
And in that moment, I don’t need to kiss her again to feel how deep this runs. The feeling’s already there, humming quietly under my skin.
Like it’s always been.
“I’m sorry about your childhood,” she says, voice barely above a whisper.
“You always tell me how strong I am, but…honestly, Miles, you are too. After what you told me…” Her throat works around the next words.
“I catch myself at times looking at Riley and imagining you, at her age, going through all that pain.” Her voice cracks, and it’s like a punch straight to the chest. “No one deserves to go through that.”
I step closer, slowly, until I’m right in front of her. Then I cup her face gently in both hands, my thumbs brushing along the curve of her cheeks.
“Viv,” I murmur, voice low and steady. “No one deserves a lot of things. But life…” I pause, letting the silence settle around us. “Life has its own way of dealing cards.”
Her eyes flicker to mine, those glassy, golden-brown eyes that somehow manage to look like sunlight even in the shadows.
“We’ll never understand why some people get dealt pain, or why others get ripped away too soon. Death. Abuse. Loss.” I shake my head, my thumb brushing away a tear she didn’t even notice fell. “But sometimes…sometimes life sets a path we never saw coming.”
I lean in, so close our foreheads almost touch, and whisper, “I’m not angry about my path. Because if it hadn’t happened…I wouldn’t have met you.”
Something shifts in the air. Like everything around us stills for a moment—every sound, every thought, every ache—just to make space for the truth between us.
And in that silence, it hits.
That even after all the broken pieces, there’s beauty.
Even in the dark, there’s light.
Even in the wreckage, we still find each other.
She closes her eyes, leaning into my touch like she needs it just as much as I do.
And for the first time in a long time, I feel like I’m exactly where I’m meant to be.
We kiss.
But this one’s different from that day in the lake.
There’s no urgency, no tangled breath and slick skin under sunlight.
This one’s slower. Softer. The kind of kiss that says more in silence than words ever could.
Her lips press gently to mine, like she’s letting herself trust the moment, trust me.
Our arms find each other naturally, wrapping around like we’ve done this a thousand times before in some other life.
When we finally pull apart, she exhales like she’s been holding her breath this whole time.
“I’m sorry—” she starts, but I cut her off without a second thought.
“Don’t you ever apologize for kissing me, Bambi.”
Her eyes search mine, as if she’s trying to measure how much I mean it. And hell, I do. Every damn word.
Around us, the world clicks back into focus, the low hum of music from the porch speakers, Riley shouting something about a dance, birds chirping somewhere in the trees like they’re clapping for us.
“They’re probably wondering where we are,” she murmurs, fingers fidgeting with the necklace resting against her chest.
My eyes flick down for a second, just a second and land on the silver band strung through the chain. Trevor’s ring. A piece of her past that still clings to her heart.
And maybe I should feel weird about it.
About following a man who’ll never get the chance to hold her again. About standing here, knowing she loved someone else before me. But I don’t.
All I feel is something close to reverence.
Because it means she loved deeply. Fiercely. The way I know she will again, someday.
So I tear my gaze away and meet her eyes. “Yeah. Let’s go.”
She gives me the smallest smile before turning and heading down the stairs, her ponytail bouncing lightly behind her. I follow.
“Mommy!” Riley’s voice breaks through the quiet. “Greg and Mindy said I can go feed the horses again tomorrow!”
Her eyes are lit up, cheeks flushed with joy. She looks so much like her mom in that moment, it damn near makes my chest ache.
Viv laughs, crouching down to her level. “That’s great! But you know I don’t work tomorrow, right? You sure you don’t mind?” She shoots the question at both Greg and Mindy.
Greg nods easily, while Mindy waves it off with a grin.
Vivian laughs softly and pulls Riley into a hug. “I’ll miss you, though,” she pouts, kissing her cheek. “But okay—you can go.”
Riley squeals and jumps into her arms, and I just…watch.
This right here?
It’s not flashy. It’s not fireworks or grand gestures.
But it’s real.
And maybe I’ve never had that before—but damn, I think I’m standing right in the middle of it now.
And I don’t want to walk away.
“Anyone up for dessert?” Eric calls out, walking over with a tray stacked full of ice creams, sprinkles, M&Ms, crushed cookies, syrup bottles, and every topping imaginable.
“Me! Me!” Riley shoots her hand up like she’s in a classroom.
A chorus of yeses follows behind her.
“Yes!”
“Sure.”
“Duh,” Mindy chimes in with a dramatic flip of her hair.
We all gather around the table again, a little more sun-kissed, a little fuller, a little looser than before. Riley plants herself next to me without hesitation, her legs swinging off the chair like she’s got fireworks in her shoes.
“What’s your favorite toppings?” she asks, eyes big, voice serious.
I pretend to think real hard, even tapping my chin. “Hmm…probably M&Ms.”
Her mouth falls open like I just told her I was a superhero. “That’s my favorite too!” she gasps.
Vivian slides over two scoops of vanilla into Riley’s bowl and gives her a pointed look. “Now remember to share the M&Ms. Don’t go full M&M monster, all right?”
Riley scoffs, dramatic like her mother. “It’s okay, Mommy. Me and Miles are sharing ’cause he likes them too.” She scoops a generous handful from the bowl and drops some into mine with her tiny fingers.
“Thank you, partner.” I smile and clink my spoon against hers like a toast.
She giggles and dives in, vanilla smeared around her lips and the unmistakable crunch of candy shell between her teeth. She’s in sugar heaven.
Viv slides into the seat across from me, adding crushed cookies and a slow drizzle of chocolate syrup over her ice cream. I watch as she scoops a bite, lips parting slightly before she pops the spoon in her mouth and lets out a soft, involuntary moan.
I think I forget how to breathe for a second.
“Mmm, yeah,” she says around a smile. “Cookie dough’s my favorite, but this will do.”
Vivian licks a little bit of sauce from the corner of her lip, and it’s a miracle I don’t combust right here at the damn table.
“Are those your favorite toppings too?” I ask, teasing, mirroring Riley’s earlier question.
She nods, taking another bite. “Mm-hmm. Chocolate, cookies, a little chaos—pretty much sums me up.”
And right there—sitting next to Riley with ice cream dripping down her hand and Vivian across from me, sweet and glowing and warm in the golden light—I feel it.
The evening rolls on with more laughter, teasing, stories, and ice cream-induced chaos.
Mindy’s practically crying laughing over something Greg says about cowboy boots and his fear of geese.
Eric chimes in with dad jokes that have Riley in stitches.
And Vivian—she keeps looking at me like she’s trying remember this moment.
And I am too.