“No. He’s renting it.”
I walked over to the glass windows lining the back of the house, and looked out at the deserted beach. The view was beautiful. And I…hated it.
I knew what my father was up to. He was trying to get his way. He didn’t send me to the middle of nowhere to sulk. He sent me to a beautiful location in the hopes that I’d be content and leave my old life behind.
There was just one problem with that. It didn’t matter how cozy a place was. You couldn’t just make a place a home without loved ones. My house with my mom was a home. Uncle Jim’s apartment was a home. Kennedy’s place was a home. Matt’s house, at least the kitchen, felt like home. I could picture the Caldwell kitchen so easily, bustling and full of life. Tears ran down my cheeks, blurring the perfect view.
Here? In this beautiful location? I stared out at the beach. A house wasn’t a home unless you were with the people you loved. And this wasn’t a home at all. Matt was my home.
I closed my eyes, trying to blot out the view that was meant to manipulate me.
Was that why my dad had asked Miller to be my babysitter? Because he knew we used to be close? He thought if he put me in this dream vacation home with a cute boy I’d just…roll over? He didn’t know me very well at all. And he may have been able to cast my mom aside like she meant nothing. But I wasn’t as coldhearted as my old man. I couldn’t just erase Matt from my mind and move on. He was everything to me.
My loyalty couldn’t be bought. My father greatly underestimated my willpower. I wasn’t going to stop asking to talk to Matt. I’d never stop.
Miller’s cell phone rang. I turned toward the kitchen to see him answer it.
He locked eyes with me. “Yes, we arrived safely.” He nodded and walked over to the fridge. “Looks like we’re all set for a while. Yeah, there’s instructions too.” He pulled out a casserole dish.
So Miller was my bodyguard. My driver. And my personal chef? Yeah, there was no way this shit had been in his original contract. I was grateful that he was here with me. I was. But…he shouldn’t have been. This wasn’t fair to him. He should be allowed to quit and do whatever the hell he wanted. I knew he was saving up for college. Would he ever be allowed to go?
Miller walked over to me and handed me the cell phone. “He wants to speak with you.”
I took the phone, even though I had no desire to speak with my father. “Yes?” I said.
“How do you like your new place?”
“It’s…” I didn’t really know how to describe it. It was lovely. And suffocating. “It’s…cold.”
“Ah, get Miller to turn up the temperature a few degrees.”
That was not at all what I meant. But I didn’t expect my dad to understand. He basically lived in a haunted mausoleum. “Can I speak to Matt now?”
“Angel, try to settle in. We’ll discuss everything again soon, alright? But in the meantime, enjoy yourself.”
“It’s hard to enjoy yourself when you’re a hostage.”
“Do you really feel like you’re a hostage? Look out the window. Your mother loved the beach. I was hoping you loved it too.”
I swallowed hard. God, he wasn’t supposed to have sweet memories of my mom to use against me. “I do love the beach.”
“Ah. I knew it. Have a good long weekend. I’m excited to hear all about your classes on Monday. Goodnight, angel.” He hung up before I could respond.
“Dinner will be ready in about an hour,” Miller said.
I handed him his phone back. There was no point in trying to call Matt. Miller wouldn’t let me. And I wouldn’t want him to even if he would allow it. I wasn’t going to get him hurt again.
“Want to explore a bit? I think your room…”
“Let’s explore outside instead.” I opened up one of the sliding glass doors and walked out onto the deck. I didn’t care what my prison looked like. If it was up to me, I’d be outside the whole time. It had been years since I’d been to the beach now. I walked down into the sand, not caring about my sneakers being filled with sand that would be nearly impossible to get out. I tried to remember the last time I’d been to the beach with my mom. But I couldn’t place it. I hated that. That memories of her faded more with each passing day.
“What are you thinking?” Miller asked as he stepped up beside me to watch the ocean waves.
“That I miss my mom.”
He didn’t say anything. He always had been a good listener. But I could tell from the way that he was staring at me that he felt bad. Like he wished he could take my pain way.
I started walking and he walked beside me. It was comforting to have him here. But it was in the back of my head the whole time that he had to be. He was walking with me because he was supposed to protect me.
I cleared my throat. “My dad sent us here because my mom loved the beach. She and I used to dream of living in a place like this one day.” I looked back toward the house, but we’d walked so far that I couldn’t even see it. “And now that I am? I just feel…claustrophobic.”
“I have a few ideas on how we could fix that.”
“How?”
“Come with me.” He put his hand out.
I slid my hand into his and he pulled me back toward the beach house.
I trusted him. I think that was part of the problem. I trusted Miller with my life. But I didn’t trust my father at all. And I didn’t know whether Miller was more loyal to me or to my dad.
Either way, it felt like my heart was breaking again. I’d always dreamed of walking hand in hand with a boy at the beach. Matt and I had planned to come to the beach on our honeymoon. It was what I was looking forward to the most about all of it. Being Mr. and Mrs. Caldwell snuggled up in the sand.
I gripped Miller’s hand a little tighter and hoped he knew how grateful I was for him. I knew he was here to protect me. It wasn’t his fault that I didn’t want or need it. I just wanted to be free.
“Crap, I forgot about the food,” Miller said. “It’s probably burning in the oven.” He started jogging on the beach, pulling me with him. His stride was so much longer than mine that I was practically sprinting.
And I couldn’t help but laugh.
I felt free with Miller. Maybe he was right. Maybe this was a fresh start. A new beginning.
***
We’d salvaged the lasagna by scraping off the burnt top layer. But it still had a charred flavor to it. It was hard not to laugh at Miller’s cooking. He couldn’t even heat up a premade lasagna.
“Stop laughing at me,” he said and kicked my foot. “You’re the one that kept walking and walking and made us miss the timer.”
“This is not my fault,” I said and picked at the mess with my fork. “But I’ll cook tomorrow.”
“There’s a bunch of prepared things already in the fridge. I’ll bring a phone timer next time.”
“It’s not a big deal. Besides, we don’t need to just reheat stuff. For all my father’s stalking, he didn’t realize that I’m a great cook. Probably because he never asked.” He never asked a lot of things. He’d only been concerned that my kidney was a match.