Page 28 of One Billion Reasons

“You left me there, Miles. How could you do that to me?” Her voice is low and taut with rage, and I finally look up. She recoils at the look on my face. Good. I’m done hiding tonight. I’ve had enough of pretending I’m fine, that I don’t seethe with anger. That I don’t miss my dad every time I look at the ocean. That I don’t hate myself for being weak and wanting Lane, even though she hates me.

She draws herself up again. “Do you have anything to say?”

“Not really.” I shrug. I’m so tired. This is how it’s always been with Lane. She hates me, but I don’t have the energy for it tonight. We’ll go back to being frenemies tomorrow.

“This is so fucking typical for you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, come on, Miles. You run roughshod over everyone in your life. You’re here, using me for your own gain, aren’t you?”

Her words are a knife to the gut. “You’re getting something out of it though. Or did you not want the money?”

“Oh, fuck you, Miles.” She throws her hands out in frustration.

“You wish, baby.” My words are low, too low for her to hear, but she does.

Her eyes go wide. “What did you say?” My heart thuds. This is how our last fight ended. The fight that lost me Lane. Am I idiot enough to repeat those words?

“I said. You. Wish.” Yep. I am.

Her lips part on a breath, and my body pulls taut. Her tongue darts out to taste her bottom lip. Like she might be imagining it’s mine.

She does wish. Holy shit. She does wish. The realization is a heady rush.

“Like what you see?” I raise a brow, barely controlling myself from leaping off the bench and crushing her to me. She trembles slightly. Give in, baby. I don’t move, for fear it will scare her away.

Instead, her eyes narrow. “I should leave you here. I should walk away and go back to New York.”

“You promised, Laney.”

She flinches. “I told you not to call me that. And you promised, too.” Her gaze darts away, and I come off the bench in a rush. I’m so sick of the way she twists me up, this woman who hates me. I want to rip that dress right down the middle and bare those beautiful breasts to the moonlight and my mouth. If only I hadn’t seen them that one summer. If only I didn’t know that they were the perfect size to cup in your hand, that her nipples were the perfect shape to pull into your mouth. And this is why I don’t drink around Lane Overton.

“What did I promise?”

She turns to face me fully. She’s trembling a little. “You promised to be a good friend to Liam. And you broke that promise. Just like you deserted me tonight.” She shakes her head, and my throat tightens. I thought she had forgotten that night, when we sat on the beach, bottles of beer in our hands, even though we already had consumed one too many, and she made me swear to take care of her brother. Little did she know, my promise to him came first. Protect her over everything, Miles, please.

“How did I break it?” I know where this is going, but I need to hear her say it.

“You know exactly how you fucking broke it.” She steps forward, trapping me against the bench. “You fucking know. So don’t play games with me.” Her voice is rising along with my anger.

“Say it, Laney.” I barely recognize my own voice. It’s low and rough.

“Stop calling me that,” she says with a sob. “You almost killed him, you asshole. How could you do that? You promised, Miles. You promised. Do you know how it felt to see him in that hospital bed? Just like I saw my parents years before that? I thought he was gone.”

Tears are spilling down from those luminous eyes, and all I can do is stand there. My heart is thundering in my ears, my throat is tight, but I can’t move. This is the story you told. I have to keep this secret.

“I hate you, Miles Becker. I’ve hated you since the crash. I will always hate you.” She’s shaking, tears running down her face, and my chest cracks. The hiccupping sob she makes does me in. In one swift movement, I wrap my arms around her and pull her into my chest. She pushes against me, and I tighten my arms until she softens. She shakes as she cries. Fuck. She deserves the truth.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m sorry,” I murmur into her hair, and I’m not sure she hears me, because she doesn’t react.

When she finally pulls away, she’s worn out and her makeup is running down her face. She can barely look at me. I can’t do this anymore. I’ve been lying to Lane for years, and I can’t stand it.

“Call your brother, Lane. Because I wasn’t the one driving that night.” I drain my whiskey and walk out into the night.

15

Lane

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