Chapter 26
Vivian
Did I wake up today thinking I’d end it completely ruined by Miles fingers and his sweet words?
Absolutely not.
And yet…here I am. Wrecked in the best possible way.
I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t a flicker of guilt afterward, a quick, sharp sting of what did I just do? The thought lingered, but only for a moment.
It was swept away the second he looked into my eyes.
There was something in the way he looked at me—intense, unwavering—that made everything else fade away.
His hazel eyes seemed to pull me in, as if they saw right through me, right to the parts of me I’d buried, parts I wasn’t ready to show anyone.
In that moment, I felt…seen. In a way that made me feel so wanted.
I never knew someone could look at me like that again, as if I was the one thing he needed, and that pure hunger in his eyes wanting every inch of me.
I think about how I looked back at him, my heart racing, feeling a warmth spread through me. For a second, I forgot everything—the past, the grief, the weight of my own fears.
It was just us.
But there was something else there too, something that made my chest tighten, a pull that I couldn’t ignore.
The fear of feeling again, of letting go of the past, of moving on.
The memory of Trevor, so raw, still so vivid.
And yet…there was something about Miles, something about the way he made me feel, that made me want to take that step forward.
It’s been a few weeks of fighting this slow-burn tension that built with every glance, every brush of his hand, every sarcastic nickname that made me secretly smile. The more I get to know him, the more I start to feel like me again.
Is whatever going on between us too fast? Am I thinking straight? Well, no, I’m not. But maybe I need to just not think, to live in the moment because tomorrow isn’t promised and I’m being reminded of that lately. I can’t help but think Trevor is making that little voice in my head say that.
I glance at Miles direction and can’t help but smile.
Because the Miles Sanchez this town thinks they know?
He’s not who I’m seeing. He’s not the person I thought he was when he walked into the bar like he owned the place.
I’m still caught in that thought when I hear his voice pull me back.
“So, what time’s Riley getting dropped off?” he asks, eyes on the road but thumb brushing over my knuckles.
I check my phone—6:28 p.m.
“Soon. They said around seven,” I murmur, trying not to sound as dazed as I feel.
His hand is still resting on the gearshift, wrapped around mine like it belongs there. I stare at it, noticing just how big his hands really are.
The same ones that ruined me earlier with nothing more than patience, tenderness, and just the right amount of filth.
My cheeks warm, and I look away, trying, and failing, to hide the effect he has on me. But of course, he notices. Of course, he catches it.
His hand slips from mine, gently brushing against my cheek, his thumb dragging along the flushed skin like he’s memorizing the feeling. I feel it everywhere.
“You’re cute,” he murmurs, voice low and teasing but with something softer beneath it.
I turn back to him, heart thudding, and smile.
His grin deepens as we pull into my driveway and my chest tightens a little. The house glows under the amber light of golden hour, soft and still like it’s exhaling after a long day.
The truck engine quiets and we’re both sitting in silence, the kind that hums between two people who aren’t ready to say goodbye just yet.
I swallow and glance over at him, my voice gentle. “Would you like to stay for dinner?”
I reach for my necklace out of habit, thumb brushing the bare skin at my collarbone before remembering I’m not wearing it.
He doesn’t rush to answer. He looks at me instead. All we can hear outside are birds in the trees, the distant creak of branches in the warm wind.
“I’d love to,” he finally says, and the way he says it sends a warm feeling through my chest that settles somewhere deep.
I smile, unlocking the door as we step onto the porch, the sunset casting that golden glow across the front of the house like something out of a damn Hallmark movie.
“I hope you like tacos,” I say as I slide the key into the lock and turn it.
Behind me, Miles lets out a low, satisfied hum. “Tacos, huh?” His voice is all lazy drawl and mischief. “You trying to seduce me with food? ’Cause it’s working.”
I shake my head, biting back a grin. “You’re ridiculous.”
He steps up behind me, close enough for the heat of him to press into my back. “You’re the one inviting me in for dinner. If that’s not foreplay, I don’t know what is.”
My breath hitches, but I manage a laugh as I push the door open. “You’re seriously out of control.”
“Only when I’m around you,” he says, brushing past me into the house like he’s already claimed the space.
Walking through the hallway, I drop my keys into the drawer by the door, the sound echoing a little too loud in the silence. It hits me then—how long it’s been since I’ve had a man in my house like this.
Almost two years ago.
Jesus.
I forgot what it felt like to be swept off my feet, pinned to the kitchen counter, kissed until my knees gave out. To feel lips, trace down my neck, hands mapping over my body.
I forgot what it was like to crave someone this deeply.
And Miles? He’s undoing me in slow, devastating pieces.
If that was just his hands…I can’t even let myself think about what all of him would feel like.
Dangerous territory, Viv.
“Viv?”
His voice cuts through the static clouding my head.
I blink, glancing over my shoulder. “Hmm?”
He’s leaned against the hallway wall, one brow lifted, that lopsided grin playing on his lips. “I asked if you want help with anything.”
He’s still shirtless. Still damp from the lake. And still infuriatingly hot without trying.
I shake my head quickly, snapping myself out of it. “No, not right now, thanks. I’m just going to have a shower.”
He nods, but I catch the subtle bob of his throat as he swallows. His eyes flicker, just for a second, to the staircase behind me. The air between us stretches tight, charged with something neither of us dare to name out loud.
“Yeah, no problem,” he says, pushing off the wall. “Go do your thing.”
I take a breath, then another. The thought of being naked upstairs while he’s down here, probably thinking about earlier, makes something buzz low in my stomach. I don’t know why it gets to me, but it does.
I turn and start walking up the stairs, then pause halfway up. “Make yourself at home. And shoes off, please. We’ve got a strict no-shoes-in-the-house rule.”
He grins, lifting a brow and toeing them off like it’s second nature. “Same rule applies at mine. Just didn’t wanna be rude.”
I smile. “Good.”
He smiles back. “Great.”
God help me, I smile, feeling warm all over. And head for the shower, wondering if he’s thinking about me half as much as I’m thinking about him.
I look at my reflection, and for a moment, I really see myself.
There’s something different.
It’s subtle—nothing anyone else would probably notice right away, but I do.
The blush in my cheeks isn’t just from the heat or the sun. It’s deeper. A soft kind of glow that wasn’t there before. My skin carries a sun-kissed warmth, the kind you get from being outside, from laughing more than you used to.
My eyes…they look brighter. Not wider, not fake. Just alive.
Less tired. Less heavy.
Even my mouth has changed—there’s a softness in the way it curves now, like it’s remembering how to smile without trying so hard. Like joy is something my body is slowly learning to carry again.
I lean in closer to the mirror, studying the faint marks on my body-the ones I used to try to cover or ignore.
I feel…lighter. Not because the weight is gone, but because I’m not carrying it alone anymore.
Maybe that’s what healing looks like. Not a big cinematic moment. Just small shifts. The way your skin glows differently when you feel seen. The way your heart softens when someone chooses you gently, patiently, over and over again.
I press my hand lightly to my chest, to the spot where my necklace would usually sit.
And for the first time in a long time—I feel beautiful and like myself.
Not because of how I look, but because of how I feel.
This isn’t all to do with Miles.
This is about me.
It’s the result of slow mornings with Riley curled into my side.
Of late-night cries no one saw, and the quiet strength it took to wipe my own tears and get back up.
It’s the laughter I’ve shared with Mindy, the support from Greg and Dad, and the way I’ve chosen to keep showing up—for myself, for Riley, even on the days when it felt impossible.
It’s about who I’ve surrounded myself with. The people who make space for me without demanding anything in return. The ones who see the cracks and never flinch. The ones who remind me that healing isn’t about erasing the past—it’s about carrying it with grace.
And it’s about the time I’ve given myself.
Time to grieve. To grow. To breathe again without guilt.
I think of the woman I was a year ago—exhausted, hollowed out, just trying to survive. She did her best. She fought for Riley. For love. For stability.
But this woman, the one staring back at me now…she’s fighting for herself too.
She’s softer. Stronger. She’s starting to believe that maybe-just maybe-it’s okay to let joy back in. To want more.
And yeah, part of that is Miles.
But the truth is, I’ve been building this version of myself long before he stepped through my door.
He’s just the first one who’s seen her.
Switching on the tap, I peel off my clothes, damp from the wet bikini I have on, then remove the bikini, the cool air of the bathroom kissing my skin as I toss each piece aside.
The water begins to steam up the mirror, fogging over the image of a woman who still can’t stop thinking about the places his hands were earlier today.
The way he touched me. The way I let him.
And I’d do it again.
I stare at my necklace, sitting quietly on the edge of the sink like it’s been waiting for me all morning.
It feels strange not wearing it, like I left a part of myself behind in the rush. I touch the ring between my fingers, the weight of it familiar, comforting. A promise. A reminder.
Still, out of habit or maybe guilt, I reach to clasp it around my neck when a knock at the door interrupts my thoughts.
I freeze, fingers still curled around the chain. “Yeah?” I call out, grabbing a towel and quickly wrapping it around my body.
Miles clears his throat on the other side. “Riley’s here. Mindy said she’ll call you later.”
There’s something in his voice—like he knows he shouldn’t be picturing what I might look like right now, and yet…I crack the door open anyway.
He jolts a little, eyes darting straight to the towel. Then he does that thing—touching the back of his neck, trying not to look, trying even harder not to be obvious.
As if he didn’t have his hands all over my body an hour ago.
I lean my shoulder against the doorframe, raising an eyebrow. “You okay to hang out with her while I shower?” I ask sweetly, the corners of my mouth twitching into a smirk as I gaze up at him, giving him those eyes.
Who even am I right now?
His jaw flexes, gaze dropping before snapping back up to meet mine. “You think this is funny?” he mutters, stepping just a little closer, his voice low and wrecked. “You have no idea what you do to me.”
I trace a slow finger across the front of his shirt, right where his heart beats strong and steady beneath. I like toying with him, it’s new to me.
“Enjoy answering all of Little Miss Nosy’s questions while I shower.”
Then I back up with a wink and gently shut the door in his face.
I have to cover my mouth to keep the laugh in because, a part of the old me is coming back, the one that loved fun and games.