The Girl in the Love Song (Lost Boys #1)(63)

“How have you been?” I asked.

“Good. You?”

“Fine.”

Jesus. Making small talk with Miller after years of deep, thoughtful debates and bickering conversations about life was torture.

I met Shiloh’s gaze from across the fire. She jerked her head and mouthed the word Go.

I cleared my throat and leaned into Miller. He smelled of smoke and salt and whatever made him, him. “Can we talk? Maybe take a walk?”

He stared at the fire, walls up, his eyes hard. But when he turned to answer me with a no on his lips, his gaze softened slightly. “Sure.”

He stood up and offered me his hand. I took it, my heart pounding. The last time we’d touched was months ago. When he kissed me. His hand was hard and rough in mine, but gentle, and he pulled me to my feet and then let go.

“We’ll be right back,” he told the group, a slight emphasis on right back.

Feeling three pairs of eyes on us, I dusted sand off my butt and followed Miller. The Shack sat in a dead-end where the cliffs had collapsed and slid into the sea. He led us back the way we had come, away from the bonfire, to the relatively smooth patch of sand before the way became trickier again. The full moon provided our light.

Miller was silent, hunched in his plaid flannel, waiting for me to speak. My pulse pounded in my ears like the surf, scared to death that I’d lost him completely and afraid to know for sure. Nancy’s words came back to me, that I wasn’t a coward.

I drew a breath. “I’m sorry.”

Miller frowned, wary. “For what?”

“For what happened between us. For everything.”

His shoulders came down a little. “It’s not your fault. I shouldn’t have kissed you.”

The wind blew my hair over my face, hiding the pain that flashed over me. When I could think of nothing else but our kiss, he regretted it. The pendulum had swung to me and wasn’t going to budge.

“Whatever happened, happened,” I said. “I came here tonight for the simple fact that I miss you. I miss my friend. That’s all I wanted to say. That these last months have been really hard without you, and… I just wanted you to know that.”

It was silent but for the wind and the ocean crashing on the shore. Miller stopped and half-sat, half-leaned on a boulder, hands in his pockets, his knit beanie keeping the hair from his eyes as they looked up at me.

“A bunch of stuff to say to you popped in my head when you asked me if we could talk,” he said gruffly. “Cutting or cold things meant to push you away. Keep you at a safe distance. But I don’t want to hurt you. It’s really the last fucking I want to do.”

I shivered, hugged myself in my sweatshirt. “I don’t want you to be hurt either. I love seeing you here with your friends. I’m glad you have them. So glad for that.”

Miller’s jaw clenched, a muscle ticking in his cheek. Finally, he threw up his hands. “Jesus, Vi. You’re standing there, looking like you do, saying sweet things and making it impossible…”

“To what?” I breathed.

“Nothing. Never mind. I just…I miss you too. You’ve always been there for me. Always. And to not have you…” He crossed his arms, as if holding his walls in place. His voice turned ragged with regret. “But I’m seeing someone else and I don’t take any commitment lightly.”

“I know you don’t. I’m not here to interfere, I promise. But if I am, I’ll go. I’ll leave you alone.”

Even if it wrecks me.

He watched me for a second, then gave a short laugh, shaking his head. “You? Leave me alone?”

I frowned, confused. “I don’t—”

“Dr. McNamara can’t leave a patient alone if she tried. How hard has it been for you to not ask me about my numbers?”

I eased a breath, understanding what he was doing. “Damn near impossible.” I crossed my arms and gave him a stern look, even as my heart was bursting with joy and relief. “Well? How are they? How many beers have you had?”

He chuckled and pushed himself off the rock, toward me. “They’re fine. I’ve had one beer, and I’ll have one more. That’s it.” He was standing in front of me now.

“Good,” I said, my throat thick. “And if you try for a third, I’ll throw sand in it.”

“I bet you would.”

Miller’s smile faded as he looked down at me. Strands of hair were stuck to my cheek by the wind. His hand came up as if he wanted to brush them away, his eyes on my mouth. Then he caught himself and stepped back.

“You’re shivering,” he said. “We should get back to the fire.”

“Okay.”

I wanted a hug to seal the deal. I ached to feel his arms around me, to lose myself in the familiarity of him, but I guessed he felt we weren’t there yet. I swallowed back my disappointment and contented myself with the fact that we were talking again. He had a girlfriend now, and it wasn’t fair—or right—to ask for more.

We returned to the circle of friends. Shiloh immediately read on my face that things were better. Not to where they had been; after the earth-shattering kiss, they probably never would be, but it was a start.

She smiled, and I smiled back.

Holden read the lessening of tension between Miller and me like an emcee reading the room. He was pretty drunk, I noticed, his clear green eyes bleary with whatever he was sipping from his flask.