Page 59 of One Billion Reasons

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Mallory calls while I’m getting dressed on my side of the wall. Her voice is panicky, and her words are tumbling over each other.

“Are you okay?”

“We’re getting kicked out.”

“What the hell?” My voice rises at the same time that a knock sounds on the door.

“They called me to tell me we have to be out by tomorrow. What am I going to do?”

“Mal. Breathe.” I open the door and meet Miles’s stormy grey eyes. He looks delicious in a blue-grey T-shirt that pulls over his carved arms. I put a finger to my lips. Mal will really lose her shit if she knows Miles is here.

I point at the bed, but he ignores my gesture and looms over me.

“Mal. Start from the beginning. What exactly did they say?”

“That we have to be out by midnight. What are we going to do?”

I can barely make the words out through her tears.

“I don’t understand. The eviction notice said end of the year. How can they kick us out tonight?”

“I don’t know, but it’s happening.” Mal sounds so desperate and scared, and my pulse speeds. I want to ask how they can do this, whether it’s legal, what recourse we have, but I don’t. Those are questions for another time, when my best friend is safe.

Miles is on his phone, head bent, fingers flying.

“I’m coming back,” I say. “I’ll come back, and we’ll put the stuff in storage and get a hotel and we’ll look for a place. Even if we have to split a single bedroom. We’ll make it work.”

“No, Lane. You need the money. Stay. I’ll leave the stuff we don’t want. I’ll head to my parents’ house. We can figure it out from there. Maybe it’s time for me to move back home, anyway.”

I slump onto the bed. “Mal, don’t. You don’t want to do that.” Mal’s parents are lovely, but traditional and strict, and they will suck all the life out of my friend. They also live ninety minutes north of the city.

“Give me the phone,” Miles hisses.

“No,” I mouth. “She hates you.”

“Give me the fucking phone, Lane.” He holds his hand out. “Let me fix this.”

I sigh. “Mallory. Miles wants to talk to you. He thinks he can fix this.”

“Okay,” she says, her voice small and tired. She must really be upset, or she’d never agree. Mal has way too much pride to take charity, especially charity from Miles.

Miles takes my cell and starts to pace. “Mallory. It’s Miles Becker.” He smiles. “I know. You never liked me.” A pause. He straightens. “Someone will be there within the hour to pack your belongings.” He’s all business now, his tone brooking no argument. “Take your clothes and personal items.” He glances at me. “I’ll buy Lane what she needs, but I’m sure she would appreciate a few personal things as well.”

I nod, a little overcome. He’s too good at this. Too good at making problems disappear. I could so easily get addicted to this.

“You can stay at my place.” My brows go up at his statement. “Yes, of course there’s a guest room. I own a second apartment in the building. It will be furnished by the time Lane and I come back from Montauk. I’m happy for you to stay there as long as you like.”

He pauses. Mal’s voice sounds distraught and then it drops low. His brows go down. “I expect nothing in return. I’m not doing this for you, Mallory.” He hangs up the phone, and my pulse speeds. Mal was almost certainly defending me. Making sure Miles wouldn’t want tit for tat like he did last week.

“Thank you,” I whisper, my throat tight. “What did you mean by I’m not doing this for you?”

His grey eyes hold mine, burning into me. That little scar is stark in his serious face. “You know what I meant, Lane.” I do know. I love it. And I hate that I love it. And I hate him for being so confusing and wonderful and difficult.

“Why?” I spring off the bed, and he backs up.

“Why what?”

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