Page 42 of Chasing You

“No,” I say. “You need to figure out how to respect my boundaries, Miles. I don’t want to see you. I don’t want to talk to you. I only want to see you when I have to, nothing more than that.”

His eyes soften and my instincts tell me to take it back, but I can’t. This is how it needs to be if I want to keep my sanity in check, because as I say the words out loud, I realize that I need to respect myself enough to enforce those same boundaries, because here I am talking to him when I said I didn’t want to.

“Please,” I say. “Just leave.”

His shoulders sag in defeat. “I’m sorry.”

“I know.” I have to draw my gaze away from his before I do something stupid like say it’s okay, because it’s not.

“Marina,” my attention snaps to the other end of the bar where Marco stands, “is everything okay?”

My eyes automatically cut to Miles, to the flicker of hurt in his eyes that he quickly masks. He pushes off the bar. “Everything’s fine, I’m leaving.”

Wait,Iwant to say. But I don’t.

I hate the way my instincts want me to walk around the end of this bar and right into his arms. God, I’m fucked up. But I can’t help the way my body remembers him, no matter how hard I try to make my mind forget.

The way his knuckles felt against my cheeks, or the way his smile sent the butterflies in my tummy wild every time I saw it. Or his laugh.God, his laugh.

“I’m staying at the Lost and Found, just so you know where to avoid,” he says as he backs away from me. For whatever reason, it hurts to hear him say that. Knowing even as I kick him out of my bar, he’s still looking out for me in one way or another.

It might seem so simple, him telling me where he’s staying, but it’s giving me the control, giving me the knowledge so that Ican stay as far away from the bed and breakfast as possible in a town the size of a postage stamp.

Marco drifts back to his table as Miles pushes on the door and escapes out into the warm night.

Why do I feel guilty? I know Miles would never hurt me, well, not like that. I know I said that he needs to respect my boundaries, but deep down, I know he does. That’s why he just left without a fight. I know that all he wants to do is talk to me, but I don’t want to talk to him. I’m afraid that if I do, I’ll forget why I was mad at him, and I can’t do that. That hurt that I carry with me is the only reason I’ve kept myself together all these years. He broke my heart, but I never let myself break down. I focused on the anger over the hurt, and that’s the only thing that kept me from falling apart, and I’ve never quite let go of it.

I trudgeup the steep staircase that leads from the bar to my apartment, fumbling with my keychain until I find the one that I have to jiggle at the right angle before I can push the door open.

I chuck my keys in a bowl just beside the door before I collapse on the couch with a groan.

I spent the entire rest of the night thinking about Miles and his stupid green eyes. No feeling will ever come close to the way it feels to have those eyes focused solely on you.

The Lost and Found is a bed and breakfast right at the edge of Ruby Cove. It’s settled in a corner between the water and the small forest of Aleppo Pines, giving it a cozy feeling like it’s tucked away. He will love it there.

God, I hate that I know that.

I hate that I know he will probably adore Donna, and she will adore him and his kind manner. I hate that I know that he will probably participate in Scrabble Thursdays and charm them all with his gorgeous smile. I hate that I know him at all.

Sometimes I wish he’d never walked into Bub’s, wish he’dnever smiled at me, wish I’d never put on his stupid hat. I wish he’d never kissed me the way he did and made me feel dizzy sitting atop that sticky bar. But I especially wish he hadn’t walked into my bar tonight. Because that is what is going to be replaying in my mind for the entire night, that defeated look in his perfect green eyes.

chapter sixteen

MILES

PAST

My breath escapesmy lungs as I two-step my way to the bar. “I’ll have a Coke, please,” I say in between breaths. I need something to cool me down.

Marina hauled my ass to a country night at a pub across town tonight. Her and Rosalie managed to both get out of their shifts tonight so they could come practice theirhoedown throwdown—whatever that is. But I am dead on my feet. I apparently did not wear the right shoes for dancing, though I’m not sure what those would be.

I’ve spent the whole night staring down at the sneakers I’m in, trying not to trip over my own feet as Marina spun around in front of me. She’s a natural, she’s got rhythm that I can’t imitate no matter how hard I try. And she caught the attention of every person in this place, male or female, everyone was watching her. Subsequently that meant they were also watching me stumble around like a dickhead behind her, but the shine in her eyes when she smiled at me was worth it.

The bartender places a glass of dark fizzing liquid in front of me. “Grazie.”

He nods back. “Prego.”

Tennessee Whiskey starts playing from the speakers as I take a big gulp of my drink. The fizz burns in my nose, but I sigh in relief as the cool liquid trails down my throat. It’s almost like I can feel it making its way all the way down to my stomach.

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