Page 44

Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

“I thought the rumor mill would’ve told you that already,” I try to deflect.

“I was never much of a fan of gossip.” He glances over at me, suddenly looking far more serious. “You, of all people, should know that.”

Yes. Yes, I do. Gossip ruined more than one life in this town.

Milo would never be a part of something that could cause that kind of damage.

“So?” he asks, nudging my shoulder. “Are you going to keep me in the dark, or are you going to tell me already?”

“I… um… went…”

God, why is this so hard? Just say it already.

I draw in a deep breath and blurt it out, “I went with Max Usher. That’s my pen name.” The words rip free from my throat like a Band-Aid.

There. I said it. Fuck!

This time it’s Milo who comes to an immediate halt as he turns towards me, his brows knitting together. “Max Usher? You went with Max Usher?” he asks, studying my face. “But that’s the name—”

“Yep.” I force the biggest, fakest smile I can manage without looking completely unhinged. “That’s the name you picked out for me when we were kids. Turns out I kind of liked it.” I shrug, suddenly feeling shy with how his penetrating stare refuses to move away from mine. “So I kept it.”

“You kept it,” he repeats, as if he still can’t quite believe the words falling from my lips.

“That’s what I just said,” I retort a bit too defensively, trying to mask how self-conscious I feel under the weight of his stare. “Don’t make such a big deal out of it.”

I quicken my pace, widening the distance between us, hoping to escape the heat of his stare. However, before I manage more than a few steps, Milo gently catches my wrist.

“Stop, Max.” I bow my head, trying desperately to calm my erratic breathing. “Look at me.”

I take a deep breath and turn around, only to find Milo standing impossibly close. For one suspended moment, the entire world falls away—Fairhope, the last ten years, every reason I ever had to leave.

There’s only him.

It was always him.

And that thought scares the ever-loving shit out of me.

I instinctively retreat, needing some distance between us. Enough to clear my head. Enough to remember how the hell to think logically when Milo Fletcher is standing this close to me.

I only make it a few steps before my shoulders meet a brick wall, putting an abrupt end to my escape.

Milo eats the gap between us with laser focus, his hand settling lightly against my waist while the other cradles my cheek with such impossible tenderness that my heart forgets how to beat.

“You kept the name,” he rasps.

He continues to study every inch of my face, as though trying to find the girl he left behind.

I don’t have the heart to tell him that girl no longer exists. But when his eyes fall to my lips, causing my pulse to quicken, the ghost of her surfaces, reveling in the fact that the boy she once loved still has the power to steal the very breath from her lungs.

“If you’re upset that I used that name—”

“I’m not upset,” he interrupts, angling his face towards mine. “I’m the furthest thing from upset right now.”

His next breath comes out slow and unsteady, as if struggling to make sense of everything racing through his mind after one tiny confession. Meanwhile, I’m barely breathing at all.

“Milo,” I whisper.