Page 85 of Deception & Daylight
I reread the last sentence over and over until the words have lost all meaning, and everything around me is steeped in darkness. Maggie Watson is my daylight, and if she never wants to return to Oak Ridge, I’ll follow her all over the world. But I have a feeling Oak Ridge is as much her home as it is mine, and I’ll do everything I can to bring her back to us.
Mags
After a restless night in Tori’s guest bedroom, and nothing but time alone with my thoughts, I decide to return to the house and pack up my things. I could easily let someone else do it, but I feel like Ineedto go back, if only for the possibility of closure.
The key turns in the lock with a loud click, and my nerves start to take over as I step into the entryway. Everything looks just as it did when I left, only there’s an extra set of keys on the hook — Eric’s keys. I shudder and step past them. The house doesn’t even smell the same anymore. It has the distinct lingering odor of bleach, no trace of the lavender, sage smell that used to permeate the air. Nothing is out of place, but it feels all wrong. This isn’t my home anymore — it’s just somewhere I existed for a while.
I pause at the back of the couch, replaying memories of Paige’s FaceTime conversations with Cade, catching glimpses of Miles on the screen interrupting their conversations and cracking jokes. I was drawn to him even then. Looking back now, I should’ve seen the differences in the Miles I was talking to online and the one who showed up in Paige’s life. There were so many glaringly obvious inconsistencies I didn’t pick up on at the time, but now they’re clear as day.
My hand trails along the railing as I head upstairs to the bedrooms, bypassing Eric’s room on the way to mine. I flick on the light, finding everything just as I left it. There’s a pile of laundry on the bed where I frantically searched for things to pack, half burned candles on the shelf above my headboard, and a mangled proof copy of my debut novel on the nightstand, tabbed and highlighted within an inch of its life.
My chest aches at the tainted memories that still live here — our annual pumpkin carving night, the housewarming party, Paige falling in love long-distance. But maybe they don’t have to be limited to this place. They aren’t any less valuable now that Paige is gone, and when I inevitably leave, they’ll come with me. Those moments shaped who I am, for better or worse. Eric doesn’t get to take that away from me.
Pulling my phone from my back pocket, I type out a quick text to Paige.
Mags: I miss you. This place doesn’t feel like home anymore.
Paige: Miss you, too.
Paige: Home is wherever you want it to be, Mags.
Home is the place that healed me when I felt irrevocably broken. Home is where my friends held me while I fell apart.Home is where I found daylight.Home is Oak Ridge.Home is Miles Barlow.
Mags: I’m coming home after the signing. Save me a seat at Rosie’s.
Paige: It’s about damn time.
Chapter 36
Miles
? Die with a Smile - Lady Gaga & Bruno Mars
There’s a line outside the indie bookshop that trails all the way around the corner, and it fills me with a sense of pride knowing just how hard Maggie worked for this. When the doors finally open, we crowd into the space. The seats fill up quickly, leaving me standing at the back of the room. That suits me just fine; I’m not ready for her to see me yet.
The audience quiets and the same woman I met yesterday steps to the front of the room near a massive photograph of my girl and a huge display of her books.
“We’re thrilled to have you all here today for the release of M.W. Hartley’s second novel, Finding Daylight. It’s a profound tale of finding love through loss and healing. The main characters, Max and Madeline are a stunning depiction of the depths of human connection. We are immensely privileged and proud to have her here. If you’ll please give a warm round of applause for M.W. Hartley.”
Some invisible force draws me to her the moment she enters the room, but I manage to keep a tight grip on the tether. She looks effortlessly stunning in one of her usual skirts with the plain white tee knotted at the waist, her long chestnut brown hair cascading down her back in waves. She scans the audience and I shrink back slightly so she doesn’t see me.
When the applause dies down, she takes her seat in a wingback chair and reads an excerpt from the prologue. I’m mesmerized by her voice and each subtle inflection. She’s captivating, and she’s mine — whether she’s ready to admit it or not.
After the reading, the audience is invited to ask questions. Several people ask about the connection between the first and second book in the series, while others focus more on Maggie’s personal life and her hidden identity. She looks a little uncomfortable when someone mentions her father, but she handles it with grace, explaining a little about how she paved her own path, and I’m so fucking proud of her.
“Can you tell us about your inspiration for this project? Do you have your own Max waiting for you at home?” The question comes from an older woman near the front of the room. She’s wearing a Smut Siren t-shirt and, when I scan the crowd, I notice she’s not the only one.
Maggie hesitates, fidgeting with the knot on her shirt, her eyes vacant as she searches for the answer.Come on baby, you can do this.
After an agonizing minute, she clears her throat and starts to speak. “I was in a very dark place when I started writing this book. In fact, I had been through one of the most horrific experiences anyone can ever endure.” She pauses, sucking in a long breath before letting it out again.
“In the aftermath, I fled to a little town in Kentucky, searching for… comfort or solace, or maybe just an escape. I can’t be sure. All I knew then was that I needed to get away. What I found there was so much more than that. As for Max —” Her mouth tips into a small, almost imperceptible smile, but her eyes are unfocused and far away. Suddenly, I can’t stand the distance between us anymore and I make myself known, pushing through the standing room only crowd until I’m only inches away from the woman I love more than anything in the world.
“Sorry to interrupt.”
Mags
That voice. My gaze snaps to the man standing before me. His blonde hair is disheveled like he’s been running his hands through it, ocean blue eyes fixed on me like I’m the only person in the room… in the world. My eyes travel from his face to his t-shirt, where “Maggie Watson’s Boyfriend” is written in a bold font with hearts dotting the i’s.
