Page 64 of Coming Up Roses

Myla Rose

With all of my heart,soul, and body, I hate Southern stereotypes. Mostly, I guess because I am one. I'm a young, single, pregnant dropout. Just the kind of girl you don't bring home to mother. Maybe Taylor was right when he told me I wasn't a forever kind of girl.

I start stuffing my belongings back into my beach bag, desperately trying to keep my tears at bay. I'm not usually some weepy, shrinking violet, but these stupid hormones have sure turned me into one.

I cry at the drop of a damn pin, and I get mad even faster. And don't even get me started on the angry tears. Those might be the worst, because then I'm mad that I'm crying—because I'm mad. It's a mess . . . I’m a mess.

I can hear Cash and Taylor exchanging words, but I have no plans to stick around to see the disappointment on Cash's face. It's fight or flight, and I'm ready to hightail it outta here.

"Myla Rose." Cash grabs my wrist. "What're you doing? Where are you going?"

"Home." I slide my sandy feet into my flip flops before hefting my bag up and onto my shoulder.

"Why?" He looks so genuinely perplexed, like he truly doesn't get why I'm leaving.

"Cash, be real.”

"What, because your ex is a jackass?"

Oh, how I wish it were that simple. Because yes, while Taylor is a jackass, his words have a certain truth to them.

"Or are you running away because you think it matters to me that you didn't finish high school?"

"I'm not running away, I'm just going—"

Cash stops my words with a finger to my lips. "Shh, you're not going anywhere."

He slides the straps of my bag back down my arm, dropping it at our feet before pulling me to him.

“Why’d you drop out, Myla?” Even though his tone is soft, the question sets me on edge.

“My Grams. She got really sick when I was in high school and needed more care than what her insurance covered.” I suck in a deep breath through my teeth. “So, I dropped out just before I turned seventeen to help take care of her.”

Cash steps closer to me, so close that I can almost feel him. “Darlin’, I want you to listen to me. Not too many people would do what you did, and I don't care what that entitled little prick says. You're something special, and if he was too dumb to see it, that's his problem."

I shake my head, causing my nose to brush his chest. "You're wrong. I'm not worth it, Cash. I have nothing to offer you except another man's baby and a metric ton of baggage."

"That's not true." He tilts my face up to his. "You have your heart, darlin', and that's more than enough."

His voice is adamant, and his eyes are firm. He means what he says. This man . . . this man thinks my heart is enough. He thinks my heart is worth my baggage.

He leans down, pressing his lips to mine, and I can taste the salt on his skin from the water. He nips at my bottom lip, and I love it.

"Uncle Cash, why're you kissing Princess Myla if she's not your girlfriend?"

Pulling back from him, I smile. "Guess the twins are up?"

"Sounds like it." He smiles right back. I could get lost in those eyes and that smile. One look, and this man melts me without even trying.

"Uncle Caaaaash . . ." Preston and Lucas whine simultaneously. I almost wonder if they sit around and plan this stuff.

"Ah. Well, boys. Sometimes, when two grown—"

I smack my hand over his mouth, "Hush. P, Lou, your Uncle Cash kissed me because he likes me and because he wanted to. Grown-up perks. Simple as that."

"Perks? What you mean, perks?" Preston squinches up his little nose while his brother leans in a little closer, like he's about to learn the secrets to the universe.

"Perks. Like, it's the upside. The good parts."

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