Chapter 24
Vivian
We arrive at the lake just as the sunlight kisses the surface, turning it into a shimmering pool of gold. It’s one of those afternoons that feels like it was made to be remembered—warm breeze, blue sky, and not a single soul in sight.
Miles shuts off the engine and hops out, grabbing a folded blanket from the backseat and a mini fridge I hadn’t noticed before.
I squint, a smile tugging at my lips. “What’s that?”
He glances over, the brim of his hat casting a shadow across his face. “Just some food and beers. Figured I’d feed you after bribing you with ice cream.”
My smile grows as we walk toward the lake, the familiar crunch of dry grass under our feet. He really planned this.
We settle near the water’s edge, the kind of secluded spot that feels like a world of its own. I help him spread the blanket, smoothing it down.
“Does anyone ever come here?” I ask, taking in the stillness. The two times I’ve been here, it’s always been just us.
He shakes his head. “Not really. It’s kind of our family’s secret spot. Been ours since we were kids.”
I glance around again, this time slower. “Don’t blame you for keeping it hidden. It’s beautiful.”
We sit, our shoulders brushing as he opens the mini fridge and pulls out two cold beers. He passes one to me, our fingers grazing in a way that sends a small shock through my arm.
“Thanks,” I murmur, taking a sip. Crisp. Cold. Perfect.
We fall into a comfortable silence, watching the light ripple across the lake.
No pressure. Just us.
“Competition’s pretty soon,” I say eventually. “Are you nervous?”
He exhales a short laugh. “A little, yeah. I just don’t like people knowing that.”
I smirk, raising an eyebrow at him. “Because you’re the Miles Sanchez?”
He points his beer at me with a knowing look. “Exactly.”
I nudge his arm lightly. “So, what version of you do I get then?”
He turns to face me fully, and something shifts in his expression. His eyes soften. “The real one.”
I look at him and wonder when this all started to feel so easy.
So…right.
He could have anyone. And yet, here he is, bare knees brushing mine, a beer in his hand, telling me things I don’t think he tells many people.
My cheeks go warm before I can stop them.
He notices.
I try to look away, but his finger lands on my chin and guides me back to him, knuckles gently brushing against my cheek.
“Don’t shy away now, Viv.”
And in that moment—sun, beer, gentle teasing—I realize just how dangerous this man is. Not because he’s wild. But because he makes me feel things I thought I’d buried. And somehow, he makes it feel safe and okay to feel them again.
“Want to use the rope again or are you too scared?” he teases, a lopsided grin tugging at his mouth.
I scoff, crossing my arms. “I wasn’t scared the first time.”
He tilts his head back and laughs, the sound rich and addictive. “Oh, come on. Even Riley went before you. You hesitated.”
I quickly stand up and peel off my top without another word, when the fabric clears my head, I catch him staring.
“Let’s go then,” I shoot back.
He’s taking in every inch of me, and I can’t lie how much I like it.
I raise a brow, adjusting my bikini top with slow, deliberate fingers. “Are you blushing, Sanchez?”
He rubs the back of his neck, sheepish but unbothered. “I mean, how could I not.”
The admission makes me giggle as I step out of my shorts, the sun warm against my skin. His gaze lingers for a beat longer; I keep my eyes locked on his.
He tugs off his own shirt, and I swear time slows. Each inch of revealed skin makes it harder to look away. His muscles shift under tanned skin, all that training for the competition is paying off, and I feel no shame in the way my eyes trace the lines of him.
Looks like we’re both playing the same game, and neither of us are backing down from eye contact.
He drops his jeans and kicks off his boots, the two of us barefoot now, standing near our scattered clothes, beers, and blanket. The lake ripples in front of us, calm and inviting.
We walk up to the rope swing, and he gestures to it. “Ladies first?”
I narrow my eyes. “What if there’s a lake monster?” I smile cheekily at him.
He smirks. “I think Riley’s bedtime stories are getting to you. But just to be safe—”
Before he can finish what he’s saying, his foot slips off the rock and he plunges into the lake with a loud splash, arms flailing for half a second before he disappears beneath the surface.
I burst out laughing, doubling over as water sprays up.
His head pops up, water slicking his hair back as he points a dripping finger at me. “You’re next!”
Sunlight glints off his shoulders, catching on the drops of water sliding down the sharp edges of muscle and bone. He looks like something out of a daydream—messy, soaked, grinning up at me like he already knows I’m about to jump.
And maybe I forget to breathe for a second.
“Gonna catch me this time?” I call out, voice teasing.
He smiles, soft and slow. “Only if you want me to.”
My fingers tighten around the rope. “Don’t let me down, Cowboy.”
His grin widens, a flicker of mischief in his eyes that makes my heart trip. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
I take a deep breath, step back, and run. The rope swings, the ground vanishes beneath me.
The wind rushes past my face, a burst of laughter on my lips. Then I hit the water with a splash that sends ripples echoing out around us.
Strong hands catch my waist underwater, steadying me before I can sink. When I surface, gasping and blinking droplets from my lashes, he’s right there—close, warm, unwavering.
“Told you I would,” he murmurs, pushing the wet strands of hair from my cheek. His fingers linger. So does that look in his eyes.
I meet his gaze, breathless for an entirely different reason now. “You kept your word.”
His hand stays on my waist, anchoring me in a way that makes everything else blur. “With you?” His voice drops just enough to steal the air from my lungs. “Always.”
He spins me gently in the water, and I let him—my arms slipping around his neck, our bodies drawn together like magnets. There’s nothing between us now but bare skin and unspoken want. The heat of his chest pressed to mine, his hands skimming my waist-it’s fire. Burning slow and deep.
The air thickens. My breath stutters.
My fingers still on his chest, my gaze catching on the marks that travel across his skin.
Scars. I remember seeing them the first time we came to the lake, but seeing them up close, tracing my fingers on them, knowing where they came from. My heart shatters
They scatter along the lines of his tattoo, some faded with time, others still faintly pink, like stories etched into his skin that never truly healed. I trace them gently, slowly, letting my touch speak the words I can’t quite find. The shape of pain. Of survival.
And all I can think is, how could someone who’s meant to protect their child…let this happen?
He was just a boy. Small. Innocent. Soft in the ways a child should be allowed to stay.
And yet, these scars. They tell me more than he ever has. They tell me he was hurt. Over and over again. And still, he found a way to carry all this and stand here-strong.
I swallow thickly, still unable to look away from the brokenness carved into him.
His hand comes up to my jaw, thumb brushing the edge of my cheek with impossible gentleness. Like he knows I’m thinking too much. Like he wants to remind me he’s still here. Whole, even if it took him years to rebuild.
He tilts my chin until our eyes meet.
“What are these scars, Miles?” my voice soft with concern.
I watch his chest ride as he takes a deep breath. “Cigarette burns.”
I flinch, my fingers tracing them, all five marks, shaking my head as I don’t understand how someone could be so cruel.
“I hate him,” I say out loud.
He kisses my forehead. “It’s okay, I’m okay now.”
A stretch of silence goes on as we look at each other again, my hands still on his bare chest, his tattoo underneath my palm.
“I got a question for you, Bambi,” he murmurs, his voice rough with restraint.
His eyes drop to my mouth. I feel the pull low in my stomach, like gravity working in reverse.
“What?” I ask, my voice barely more than a whisper.
His gaze flicks back up, but not for long. He licks his lips, slow and deliberate, and my eyes follow like I’m under some kind of spell.
“Can I kiss you again?” he asks.
The tension between us tightens. That edge between want and need blurs, softens, and all I can do is stare at him.
But I don’t answer.
Instead, I slowly lean in, wrapping my arms around his neck.
His jaw ticks.
The tension building. More and more. My breathing picking up faster as we slowly lean closer into each other.
“Fuck it,” I say before my lips crash into his.
Hard. Desperate, yet somehow still careful, like I’m something he wants to bother devour and protect all at once.