Page 38 of Stiletto's Savior

I shouldn’t be out here.

I should be inside, making sure she’s okay, but I need this moment, just a breather.

One more hit, then I’ll go back in.

A voice cuts through the haze. “Hey!”

I look up, and there she is. Stiletto—her red hair catching the light like flames.

Bruises bloom on her skin, ugly greens and yellows.

It makes my stomach twist imagining the atrocities she endured in that wretched place.

“I thought you’d be inside,” I say, keeping my tone light, but it feels heavy between us.

“Yeah? And what? You’re just gonna sit out here all alone?” Her hazel-green eyes spark with defiance. “I’m kind of surprised. Shouldn’t you have gone home by now?”

“Sometimes it’s better if I’m alone,” I take another drag, holding her gaze. “I’m not going back home, Song.”

Everyone here calls her Stiletto, but to me, she’s always going to be Song.

“Why not?” She scoffs, crossing her arms, but I see the flicker of uncertainty in her expression. “You’ve got a life waiting for you back there. A girlfriend or whatever.”

“I had a girlfriend,” I correct her, my voice firm. “I broke up with her before I came to Montana. When your sister called, I dropped everything to come find you.”

Stiletto raises an eyebrow, skepticism written all over her face. “Really? Just like that?”

“Yeah, really. I didn’t think twice about it.” I step closer, the air thick with unsaid words. “I thought about what was important in my life, and she wasn’t. I thought about what was—and that is you. I want to fight for this, for us. I messed up before, pushed you away when you confessed. I was scared.”

She closes her eyes, and for a moment, I think maybe she gets it. But then she shakes her head, opening them again, and the wall goes back up. “You should go back home, Miles. I’m sure there’s still time to repair what you’ve broken with her.”

“Why do you want me to go back home? Because you’re hurting?” I plead, desperation creeping into my voice. “What if I didn’t break anything? What if I don’t want to go back and repair something I don’t want? What if I want my life to be here with you by my side?”

“Yeah, right.” She laughs, but it’s hollow.

“Song—” I reach for her, but she steps back, putting distance between us.

“Just fucking go, Miles,” she says, her tone clipped.

There’s no room for argument.

“Dammit, Song!” I call after her as she turns away, already walking back inside.

The door shuts with a soft click, and I’m left outside, the joint burning down to a stub in my fingers.

Fuck.

What now?

I crush the roach under my boot, frustration boiling inside me.

I thought coming here would make things better, but all I feel is more lost than ever.

My phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out, glancing at the screen—Antonio.

Hey, Miles. When you comin' back? Struggling to fill shifts here. Need you, man.

I read his message twice.

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