Miah (Lane Brothers #2) (27 page)

“Yo, Lily, order up, girl.”

As Nico dings the little bell at the window and pushes two orders of eggs over easy, bacon, toast, and lamb sausage my way, I wipe a bead of sweat from my brow and huff out a wired breath.

“You okay, Lil?”

“Fine, Nic, just tired. My section’s busting at the seams, and I still have to cover half of Ginger’s tables. Fucking college brats aren’t making it easy, either. Just don’t screw up their order, huh? Those rich idiots are already making my life a misery.”

He grins at me and hocks back, waggling his brows at me in a yay or nay move that makes me laugh and shake my head. The brats may be working on my nerves, but no one deserves a booger sandwich, and I say so.

“Your call, babe. Not me who has to serve the little assholes.”

I snort and grab the order, walking away with a bright smile plastered on as I deliver it to Earl and his wife Pearl and trudge back to get them coffee.

The last three and a half months-not that I’m counting—have been…enlightening. After confronting Vincent and my—Beau, I’d run out of the hotel wearing a ten grand wedding dress and nothing else.

I couldn’t go home because right now that was Vincent’s house, and I had no money, ID, nothing, so I’d grabbed a cab and begged the cabbie to use his phone.

Parker had answered on the first ring, and after explaining the situation and begging him not to let on that it was me on the phone, I’d begged him to meet me at the park and to bring some money—to pay the cabbie and to help get me out of the city.

Now, I know what you’re thinking: why run? Simple. Because despite being a twenty-eight-year-old adult and having the power to say no, I have this weakness were love is concerned, and I’d known that if I gave Beau or Vincent the slightest encouragement, they’d convince me that everything was just a misunderstanding.

Parker had given me twenty grand and hooked me up with a little place in Georgia, a little two bedroom house in the middle of nowhere that had belonged to his maternal grandmother or something.

It was not a luxury home or anything, but it suited my purposes just fine. I’d spent half of the money on a second hand car at a dealership just dodgy enough not to require my licence, and the other half I was keeping as an emergency fund.

That’s why I’m currently working nine-hour days at the diner to put food in my belly and keep the electricity on.

“Hey, waitress! Where are our burgers?”

Stifling the urge to tell them to go to hell, I smile sweetly instead and hotfoot it over to Nic, my eyes begging him to fill the order now, even if they’d only ordered five minutes ago.

“Please get that shit ready so I can be done with those little pricks.”

He nods once and gets down to business, handing me three double cheeses and an order of fries five minutes later, his copper cheeks red from the heat of the grill.

“Don’t look at the pickles too closely and you won’t hurl, babe,” he crows, winking slyly as I grab my tray and load it up. Chances are those pickles aren’t the only thing green on the burgers.

“Christ.”

By the time I’ve delivered their order and eaten more shit, it’s noon and coming up on my break.

“Take it now, toots,” Viola yells at me, tossing a bottle of water in my direction from her place behind the counter. “Lunch rush’ll start in about ten minutes.”

With a heavy sigh I chuck my apron at her and beat feet to the back, my muscles relaxing only when I get outside to the picnic table overlooking the little stream that runs behind the diner.

There I enjoy my cold bottle of water and the turkey sandwich Nic makes me every day.

It’s also where I go, every day, to think about the fact that I’m married to the richest, most powerful man in New York City, and that one wrong move on my part will have him breathing down my neck so fast my head will spin.

Funny that despite three months and so many miles later, I still can’t outrun the pain of it. I feel raw inside at Beau’s betrayal and even rawer knowing that I’d bared myself, my fucking heart and soul, to Vincent, and he’d used that weakness to get what he wanted.

I can’t say that Beau had sold me or that Vincent had bought me, that…I can’t even figure out what it is that they’d done, but I know that I’d been nothing more than a casualty in a deal, a goddamned business deal, and that I meant so little—

“Yo, Lil, your lunch regulars are arriving, doll.”

“I’ll be in in a minute, Vi!”

After a thumbs up and a wink to let me know that the brats have left, she turns back and leaves me alone. I need, hell, I don’t know what I need anymore, but an hour’s worth of sleep after last night’s marathon painting session seems like a luxury that I can’t afford right now.

This is why I don’t think about Vincent often—or as often as my pathetic brain will allow—because I know that if I fall asleep anytime soon, I’ll be dreaming of him and waking up with tears all over my pillow.

Bastard.

“Hey, Doolie, what’ll it be today?” I ask five minutes later.

My regulars all grin up at me—Doolie especially—with their wrinkled old faces and sparkling eyes.

“Just the usual for us, honey. And a kiss from the sweetest girl in Georgia.”

“Sorry, Dool, I’m afraid I have to hold out for a ring and babies. Wouldn’t want to give the milk away for free. Who’d buy the cow then?” I tease, watching them crack up at my usual line.

Truth is that I’d sunk so low that a little flirting from seventy-year-old Doolie makes my goddamned day. Every day.

The thought makes me sadder, and a whole lot mad, and it takes my best efforts to get through the lunch rush without crying or throwing shit around to soothe my temper.

By the time five rolls around, I’m dead on my feet and praying for relief.

“Ah, honey, go on home. Tash’ll be in soon enough to take over. You look plain beat,” Viola murmurs, eyeing the dark circles beneath my eyes that no amount of concealer can hide.

“Thanks, Vi, but I don’t think that’ll make much differnec. Too early to turn in.”

Not that that’s the problem. I’m avoiding home like the plague because I know that no matter how tired I am, I’ll end up in front of the canvas. It’s become my own personal enemy since I arrived here.

All I paint now is dark shit, sometimes ending with a canvas filled with black swirls from corner to corner. I can’t face it tonight without losing my shit and I know it, so picking up another shift, despite my exhaustion, is what I’d planned to do.

“Get your sweet ass home and to bed, Lilly Tom, or I’ll get you there myself. And have Nic cook you up a nice burger before you leave,” she orders, giving me the stare that I’ve come to recognize as her ‘do not gainsay me or I will fuck you up’ look.

There’s no arguing, so I toss my apron at her, grab my tip jar, and skip to the kitchen. When I get there Nic already has a burger and side order of fries wrapped and ready and is wiping down the grill.

“You eat that when you get home, Lily darlin’. You’ve dropped too much weight recently. Oh, and take this, my mama said it’ll put you to sleep in a wink.”

What he gives me turns out to be a medium sized bottle of clear liquid. When I turn the cap off and take a whiff it leaves me spluttering.

“Jesus. That burned my nose clear off. What the heck is it?” I cough, turning the cap on quickly.

“Mama calls it Night Rescue. It’s her version of sleeping pills, but you don’t wake up with a hangover. Try it, Lil.”

He says it so earnestly and with so much concern—well, as much concern as a fry cook with problems and a life of his own can—that I just nod and promise to take at least one swig.

If I die of liver disease from one mouthful, all the better. At least I’ll go with a smile on my face.

The ring of the phone greets me the minute I walk through the door, and I pause for five breaths, my booze and burger balanced precariously before I snatch it up, the only sound I make that of a slight stutter in my breath.

If it’s Parker, well, he knows the drill. He speaks first or I end the call and start running. This is only one of the safety precautions we’d agreed to since I’d booked it out of New York.

I’d had to remember, mostly because Parker won’t let me forget, that it’s not just Beau and Vincent I’m hiding from. Eric Brennan is still out there somewhere, and if what he’d said that night is still true, the man will kill me deader than dead if he ever gets his crazy paws on me.

“It’s me, Sis. Just calling to let you know that I’ll be out of the country next week. Business that can’t be avoided. If I don’t call, don’t worry.”

“Crap, Park, you almost gave me a heart attack.”

“Sorry, babe. I’m in the middle of something right now. Just wanted to let you know everything’s still fine. Blake gave me another call today and got real nasty about my continued silence. That man’s going batshit crazy the longer it takes to find you,” he said for the hundredth time, making me aware of his stance on my defection.

Parker doesn’t agree with the whole running away thing, had in fact threatened to tell Vincent my plans till I’d started crying so hard I’d almost puked.

Now it’s a struggled to convince him that I’m fine and that no matter what my parents said—or Vincent—I am better off here. At least for the time being, till I get my head on straight and my emotions under control.

Obviously, I need a band aid for my heart, because time’s doing nothing for me in the heartbreak department.

“Sissy, you still there?”

“Yeah. Just wondering when you’re gonna start lecturing me about my choices and threatening to call Vincent,” I say tiredly, unwrapping my burger even though my appetite’s gone to shit.

I hear his customary sigh of irritation, and then he surprises me by changing the subject. Obviously he’s just as tired of this as I am.

“Jules has agreed to give me a second chance,” he says, and I hear the total joy in his voice.

It’s no secret that he’s more than head over heels for the woman—nope, he’s so obsessed it’s a wonder he can get any work done for thinking of ways to be with her.

“I thought you were already…?”

“Nah. That was just sex. She was using me as a booty call. It got to the point that I called her yesterday and called it quits, you know, wanted to save myself further pain before…” He laughs humorlessly and I swallow, wincing when the chunk of half-chewed meat and bread sticks in my throat.

“That must have been really hard.”

“Yeah. I just about fell apart before making that call, but she surprised me. Turns out she was just testing the waters before committing to us, and…I love her, Sis, like really love her. If she doesn’t feel the same…”

“Of course she does. Who wouldn’t, Park? You’re a freaking catch. I’m seriously regretting turning you down before,” I joke, only half serious.

“So you’re okay?” he asks, changing the subject again, something that bothers me, as it’s just not his style.

Usually he can chew a subject to death before losing enough steam that I can get a word in edgewise. Now, though, he just sounds tired.

“I’m fine. Tired, but fine. Listen, Parker, if this cloak and dagger stuff is too much for you, I’ll understand. Bee and Justin are an item now, and you’re family…I’ll understand if you don’t want to be in the middle of this.”

Yeah, I’ll understand all right, I think miserably, feeling my stomach knot. Parker is all I have left of my old life, and the thought of losing him makes me feel wretched.

The burger looks like a pile of smashed beef by the time he answers, and I walk over to the trash before washing my hand at the sink.

“No, Sis. You and me, babe. You’re my best friend, as pathetic as it sounds, and I won’t abandon you. Just promise me you’ll think about calling your mom. She deserves better than this.”

“Okay. But not yet. I need to find a way to call her without Beau finding out.”

Paranoid, but totally necessary. If any of them get even a whiff of where I am…I can’t risk it yet.

“I understand, but this is gonna have to end soon, Sis. Vern keeps pestering me, and if Blake gets any worse I’m afraid he’ll kill me with his bare hands.”

A half hour later I’m still standing at the sink, my eyes staring into space as I fight to clear my head of all thought. Some days I operate on autopilot, and others it’s a struggle just to stop the voices from spilling out and taking control.

Eventually I have to go home, I know it, but for now I need this time. Grabbing the bottle of booze Nic’s mom sent, I wander into my sparsely furnished bedroom and flop onto the bed.

It tastes like battery acid going down, and by the time I’ve had three healthy swallows I’m more than tipsy and feeling just happy enough to fall asleep with a smile on my face.

                  ***

“You meant nothing to me.”

As I look at his face and feel myself cramping up with pain and humiliated adoration, I know full well that this is a dream. Even as the thought solidifies I cry out in horror and anguish, my heart breaking as he’s surrounded by a crowd of beautiful women, his mouth curved in an arrogant twist of satisfaction and scorn.

“No!”

“Yes. You were always just a means to an end. How could I love you?”

“No!”

I wake with a start and sit upright, panting heavily as tears stream down my cheeks to land on the twisted sheets, tangled around me. It’s always this way. I have these dreams, dreams in which I’m forced to watch him take other women, and no matter how hard I try I can’t get myself to revile him before I wake in a cold sweat, crying and unsettled.

“You’re pathetic, Sissy. How long is it gonna take for you to let go?”

Always the same dream, and always the same question, and, as with every other, I have no answer to defend myself with, even if it’s just against myself.

You’d assume that three months’ worth of pep talks and internal confidence building would have done something to help me, but the truth is, the longer I stay away, the worse I feel.

Sure, I’m no longer a useless lump of tears and tissues, but inside, that’s where I’m broken.

Shaking off the dream and the heaviness I feel, I throw back the sheets and pad to the window, pulling back the curtains to see the very edges of dawn peeking over the horizon.

The clock blares its red numbers at me and I hop with a squeal, racing to the bathroom. It’s not yet fully dawn, but if I don’t hustle I’ll be late for work and Vi will have my ass.

Forty minutes and a lot of coffee later I pull into the employee parking lot and bolt out of the car, making it to the door just as Nic opens it.

His knowing grin makes me scowl, and I throw him a good natured glare.

“I don’t know if your mom’s a cyborg or has free liver transplants every year, but that shit was potent.”

“Told you it’d knock you on your ass, Lil. At least you got some sleep. You look better. Did you finish that burger?” he asks, keeping his gaze on me through the order window as we both tie our aprons and get ready for the breakfast run.

“Most.”

Okay, so maybe lying isn’t nice, especially to a guy who’s been so good to me, but I don’t need a lecture right now, not with the remnants of that sucky ass dream still dogging me.

“At least eat a bacon roll before you start your shift.”

He doesn’t give me a chance to argue, and by the time I turn back from prepping the coffee pots I’m assaulted by the rich, greasy aroma of a butter bacon roll.

Yuuumm.

By twelve I feel like a freight train has done laps over my entire body, and I turn to glare at Nic. Belated hangover. Shit.

“Stay hydrated, Lil, and the headache’ll go away real quick. Oh, and here’s table four’s extra side of fries.”

I want to flip him off and tell him what an unholy crone his mother is if she can drink this shit on the regular without dying, but I refrain and grab the fries, turning with a huff, only to come to a screeching halt mid-turn.

Every ounce of blood in my body drains to my toes, making me lightheaded—no, that’s not true, I’m woozy from lack of oxygen when I realize I’ve stopped breathing altogether.

“Hello, dove.”