Page 12 of Tell Me Something True

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Tabitha stared, mouth hanging open, as Miles got in his car.

What was happening? It was like she’d wandered into some alternate reality where Miles Jennings had morphed into a fuckboy.

He probably thought he was doing her a favor, laying it all out that way. Being truthful.

Honesty was so overrated.

The next thing she knew, Miles was pulling out of his parking spot.

The man could move fast when he wanted to.

Then again, he’d never been one to waste time. Flirting with her the moment he first saw her at the coffee shop where she’d worked all those years ago. Asking her out when she’d delivered his order to him. Securing a second date before they’d even completed their first.

When he wanted something, he went after it.

Easy enough to do when you were handsome, smart and came from a family who not only loved you unconditionally, but also taught you to believe you were worthy of every good thing you could ever dream of.

For Tabitha? Not so easy.

Any good thing that came her way was met with a healthy dose of cynicism and obtained through hard work and sacrifices.

Good things didn’t just happen for her.

She had to fight for them.

But she was tired of fighting.

The smart thing would be for her to go back to the hotel. Going home with Miles wouldn’t change anything between them. Would only make it more awkward and uncomfortable if she did get the job and moved here.

Would only blur the lines between the past and the present.

She’d grown over the past ten years. Had learned patience. And with that, came the ability to be more rational, reasonable, and much more careful with the choices she made.

And in the end, she did what any reasonable, rational, careful person would do.

She got into her car and followed him home.

Clearly, she’d come a long way in her personal development.

She parked on the street as he pulled into his garage. Rubbing her damp palms down the front of her skirt, she took a deep, fortifying breath, then turned off the ignition, slid her purse under the seat and got out. Shut the door. Made sure it was locked.

And glanced across the street to see Miles standing in the open doorway of his garage watching her, hands in the pockets of his jeans, as if he had all night to wait for her to get herself across the street and into his house.

Not only would he not chase her, but he also wouldn’t walk down his driveway for her.

She crossed the street, the sound of her heels clicking on the pavement an announcement to everyone on the block that she’d lost her ever-loving-mind and was merrily skipping toward what could very well be her own doom.

His house was small and white with a wide front porch. The windows were dark, and for some stupid reason, that broke her heart.

His house shouldn’t be dark. It shouldn’t be empty. It should be filled with love and warmth and laughter.

There should be someone waiting for him to come home.

He shouldn’t have been sitting by himself at a bar.

Even if at this moment, she was glad he had been.

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