Page 12 of Deception & Daylight
Leave it to Miles fucking Barlow to be the first person who doesn’t look at me with pity in his eyes. Instead, he looked like he wanted to burn the world down on my behalf. And that was… too much. Hesawtoo much.
The minute he walked into the room behind me, I felt a supercharged energy surround me, a looming threat of passion lingering between us. His scent enveloped me like a warm hug, something faintly woodsy with a hint of spice. For a fleeting moment, he looked at me like he was eyeing his next meal, and I knew if I stayed we’d end up doing something we’d both regret by morning. So I escaped to the bathroom, turned on the shower, and waited until I heard the door snick closed behind him.
My entire body is aching, letting me know I’m overdue for my pain meds. I don’t like taking them. They make me drowsy, and sleep is the last thing I want, having been plagued by nightmares for the past week. They’re never quite the same, but I always wake up seconds before my face hits the pavement. The terror they induce is all too real, so I stay up all night writing, or more accurately, staring at a blank page, hoping to exhaust myself into a dreamless sleep. With any luck, the change of scenery will help.
Popping two of the little white pills, I burrow into the luxurious four-poster bed. All things considered, at least the accommodations aren’t so bad, and Lucy seems really sweet.
It doesn't take long for the medicine to kick in, and fighting sleep is futile, so I roll onto my side and place my phone on the nightstand, sinking further into the plush pillows.
I’m walking down the empty street, the moon casting an eerie glow on the cracked pavement. Shadows stretch unnaturally, whispering something I can’t decipher. The air is thick with tension, every rustle of leaves sounding like a footstep behind me. I clutch my phone in my hand like a lifeline, fear and uncertainty pulsing through me. My heartbeat thrums in my ears, drowning out the quiet night as a sudden chill creeps up my spine.
Without warning, a figure lunges from behind, my breath catching in my throat. I feel the sharp impact before I even see him, an overwhelming rush of pain and confusion washing over me. The world tilts, the ground rises to meet me, and for a fleeting moment, I’m suspended in time — caught between fear and disbelief. I strain to see the man’s face, but the darkness cloaks him, a shroud that keeps his identity hidden. Panic surges as I fumble with my phone, but the night swallows my screams before they can escape.
The sound of my phone ringing on the nightstand brings me back from the grip of terror. Blinking the world into focus, my dad’s name flashes on the screen. Though I have no desire to relay the events of the past week, I tap accept and wait for the impending tirade.
“Margaret Eleanor Watson, when were you going to tell me you were assaulted?”
“Hello to you, too, Daddy.”
“Don’t ‘Daddy’ me, little girl. I had to hear from your roommate, of all people! Imagine my surprise when Eric called about the rent and asked me how you were doing after everything. I said, ‘Everything? What do you mean everything?’”
Dad’s voice trails off as the pulsing in my head continues to intensify and I feel like I might throw up. “Dad, I’ll call you back.” Before he can respond, I throw the phone onto my pillow and rush tothe bathroom, tossing what little I had to eat straight into the toilet. Tears streak down my cheeks as I empty my stomach until I’m dry heaving. My phone is ringing violently in the background, deepening the ache in my temples. All of my senses feel like they’re firing on overdrive. I just want to crawl into bed and sleep for days. Intending to do just that, I throw myself onto the mattress — rather violently, I might add — pulling the covers over my head to block out all light and sound.
I don’t know how long I lay there waiting for my body to shut down, drifting into some state of partial consciousness, but the attempt is unsuccessful. Sleep proves an elusive concept, at least for the moment. I check the clock on the nightstand, wincing when I realize I’ve been in bed for several hours.
A loud growl from my now empty stomach reverberates in the space, and I know my time is up. I briefly wonder if I might be able to have something delivered so I don’t have to leave the room, but small town Oak Ridge isn’t exactly rife with delivery options. Unless I want pizza, I’m going to have to get my ass out of bed. I could probably call Paige to bring me something from Rosie’s, but I don’t want to be a bother.
As I step into the hallway, dimly lit by beautiful antique sconces, I nearly run straight into Lucy. “Hello Maggie — Oh… are you feeling alright? Not to be rude, dear, but you look like shit.” The curse coming from her lips has a laugh bursting free, causing me to wince slightly.
Lucy’s face tips into a sympathetic smile as she takes my hand and squeezes gently. “Oh, honey. Let me get you some tea. Come with me.”
I don’t have it in me to protest, so I follow her down to the charming dining room. It’s decorated much like the rest of the inn — antique furniture fills the space with beautiful wallpaper and original wood accents throughout. There’s history here, that much iscertain. “Do you like it?” Lucy asks, gesturing to our surroundings.
“I do. It’s beautiful. Almost like being transported back in time. I find it… comforting.”
“Thank you. But I can’t take all the credit. After all, it was Miles who brought my vision to life.” My eyebrows shoot up my forehead as I scan the space with renewed perspective. Damn, Miles reallydoeshave great taste.
“Now, have a seat. I’ll grab us a fresh pot and some snacks, and you can tell me all about what brings you to our neck of the woods.”
My stomach growls again at the mention of food and Lucy chuckles before heading out of the dining room, likely towards the kitchen. When she returns, she has a tray full of finger sandwiches, along with a steaming kettle and every kind of tea you could imagine. “Help yourself,” she says, piling her own plate full of snacks.
I select a bag of lavender tea, and several triangle cut sandwiches, diving right into the most delicious egg salad sandwich I’ve ever tasted with a satisfied groan. Lucy smiles at me across the table, a look of pride evident in her features. “This is amazing. Thank you.”
“Anytime, dear. So what brings you to Oak Ridge?” I shrink back, recalling the incident that triggered my hasty escape.
“I… um…”
My attention is swiftly diverted to the doorway as Miles walks into the room. “Hey Ma! I got the new hardware for the cabinets,” he says, his movement halting as if an invisible barrier has erected itself in his path. “Mags. Damn, you look like shit.”
“Miles Andrew Barlow, that's no way to speak to a lady,” his mother chastises from the head of the table. When he momentarily averts his gaze, Lucy winks at me, causing me to nearly choke on mytea. Miles scoffs in response and I grin like I’ve just won a battle he didn’t even know we were fighting.
“How could you turn on your favorite son like that? I’m wounded!” Miles clutches at his chest, and I have to hide my smile behind another finger sandwich, unwilling to give him the satisfaction.
“You’ll survive,” she deadpans. It’s obvious where Miles gets his lighthearted personality. Although, I find it much more charming coming from Lucy.Sure, keep telling yourself that.
Keeping his gaze locked on mine, Miles plops down on the chair opposite me, snagging one of the sandwiches and devouring it in one bite. I watch as his Adam's apple bobs, and suddenly my mouth is watering, and I’m involuntarily clenching my thighs. I make a mental note to describe this exact scenario in my next manuscript —in vivid detail.
Miles reaches for another sandwich but pauses as his mother speaks again. “So, Maggie. I believe you were about to tell me what brought you here.”
