“So freaking cranky,” I mumble under my breath.
“What’s that?” His voice comes from right behind me, and I jump.
“For crying out loud—quit scaring me! Jeez.”
“You should be more aware of your surroundings.” I can’t see his face, but the tone adequately communicates the sarcasm all on its own.
“Sorry. I didn’t think I’d need my Krav Maga skills in your vacation home. My bad.”
“It’s not my vacation home.”
Now he wants to talk? I don’t bother turning my head to give him my attention. “Fine then. Your non-vacation home.”
He comes back around and takes his spot on the couch again, holding his left hand out with a cold beer. I grab it like it’s made of diamonds. “Thanks.”
We quietly sip our beers while the guy on TV drones on and the screen’s reflection paints moving colors on Milo’s face. Not that I’m watching him or anything.
The man is utterly mercurial and impossible to figure out.
“It was my dad’s place. He left it to me when he died.”
“Oh.” Then I tack on, “I’m sorry for your loss,” because, manners. I remember he wasn’t close to his dad back when we met.
He waves me off. “The truth is I haven’t lived in this town in over a decade. I didn’t want to move back, but here I am.”
He takes another sip of his beer, and I don’t try to hide my watching him. I do hide my surprise, however. I assumed he’d been right here all these years, running a local dive outfit and swimming in his home waters. I had every reason to believe it was true, and I want to ask what happened. Why he left when he had all he ever wanted at the expense of a sixteen-year-old girl’s happiness. But if I ask and he answers, I’ll need to leave this house. And I don’t want to leave. Not yet. So I ask a different question.
“Why don’t you want to be here?”
He shrugs like most guys when presented with a question requiring more than a one-syllable response.
I try from another angle. “So, where were you that was so hard to leave?”
“Everywhere. Nowhere.” He shakes his head and finally looks over at me. His eyes are tired. “Worked a pop-up diving operation with this guy Hobbs for the last seven or eight years. A couple other people before that. We’d set up shop in coastal towns in South America, some of the Caribbean islands. All over the place. Spend the first week scoping out local diving spots, then hang our sign and book diving tours until the local authorities kicked us out for one reason or another. Made a decent living. Got to see the world. What more could you ask for?” The words are carefree, but the tone misses the mark.
“Sounds amazing.” In fact, it makes my little journey look like peanuts in comparison. “I can see why you’d want to get back out there.” I’m not lying. It sounds incredible, but it also sounds damn lonely. What happened that I don’t know about?
“But shit happens.” He sighs and takes a longer pull on his beer, a clear indication that his sharing portion of the evening is over. I’m amazed he spoke that much as it is. “You finally going to tell me what you’re doing here?”
Who said it was my turn? “I thought you didn’t like to talk.”
“I said I don’t like small talk.”
I remember that from before—from a million years ago.
I have a choice between telling him everything and being coy. I choose coy. “Let’s just say you and I might be more alike than you realize.”
He raises a brow at me and thumbs the label on his beer. “Oh? You’ve been diving in South America?”
“Nope. But I’ve been on the road quite a bit recently.”
He nods and watches me for a minute. I pretend it doesn’t make me uncomfortable.
“Running away from something or toward something?”
Clever bastard. I stall by drinking more of my beer while thinking of a good response.
“How about neither. Can’t a person run for running’s sake?”
He leans forward and sets his bottle on the warped coffee table. “Now, that, I don’t know.” Which tells me he was most certainly running for a reason himself. Curious. I want to know more, of course, but he’s done sharing.
Milo stands and stretches, the movement pulling his t-shirt up just enough to expose a slice of bare skin above his waistband. It makes me swallow hard and question my sanity.
“It’s late. I’m heading to bed.”
I watch him wander over to the bathroom and stand up myself, still gripping my bottle. “Goodnight. Thanks again for letting me stay.”
His only response is to throw up a hand in a backward wave before the bathroom door shuts behind him.
I take my half-empty beer bottle upstairs with me and, despite being dog-ass exhausted, I lie awake for the better part of the night, letting my memory take over.
Chapter Fifteen
JILL
Twelve Years Ago
Milo and I agree to meet at the pier where he’s going to teach me how to fish. His dad has a deep-sea fishing charter, and Milo thought it was a crime that I’d never even held a pole or rod or whatever. I didn’t lie to my family this time. I told them I’d met a local who wanted to take me fishing—in a very public and populated area—and they thought it was “adorable.” Gag.
But being open about Milo does give me a ready excuse to use when I’m needed on the Brothers set. So far, I’ve only had one scene and it was a silent part, but I did get to meet Raven Yang, who’s even prettier and nicer than she seems on TV. My speaking part is coming up in a few days, and I’ve been rehearsing nonstop. My only hope is that my voice will work when I’m face-to-face with Noah Chandler. Eek!
I spot Milo’s dark head through the crowd and put a hand up to wave at him. He nods when he sees me but doesn’t wave back. I guess he’s too cool for that, but it doesn’t bother me.
“We’re never catching anything with so many people here,” he says when he reaches me. “There are plenty of other spots, you know.”
“I’m sure there are, but isn’t this like one of the classic things to do at the beach? Fish off the giant pier?”
“If you say so.” He shakes his head like I baffle him, but I can see a half-smile in there somewhere. “Come on, Captain Ahab.”
“Ooh! Are there whales around here?” That would be kickass.
That little crinkle forms between his brows, and I resist the urge to press my finger to it. “No, dummy. They’d fry up in water this warm.”
Oh, right. Note to self: research whales and memorize fascinating tidbits to impress boys.
“I knew that. Just testing you.”
He rolls his eyes at me and continues down the pier, so I follow along on the evenly-spaced planks. “Now, don’t get your hopes up. It’s unlikely we’ll even get a bite, but I can at least teach you the basics.”
“Awesome.” And it is. My mom and dad aren’t really the outdoorsy types, so there are a lot of things I’ve never done. Fishing, water-skiing, camping—you know, the classic stuff. Not that I’ve ever minded. Shopping, singing, dancing, museums, off-Broadway shows—those are more my style anyway. And since my parents are both college professors who get time off in the summer, we’ve never had a boring time.