“Naked works for me.”
“Works for me too, but I will jump your fucking bones if I’m left naked, Malakai, and you’re the one who doesn’t want to take advantage of me.”
I shake my head at her—I always shake my head at her, but what’s different now than the beginning of summer is I can’t help but smile at her as I do.
I grab my previously worn shirt off the bed and toss it in her direction. She strips, slipping my shirt over her head, swimming in it as it hangs mid-thigh.
Perfect, really.
She sways a bit on her feet as she stands in the doorway of the bathroom.
“Do you want help taking off your make-up?” I ask.
“Yes, please.”
Turning her around, I usher her back into the bathroom. Her skin care is still lined up on the sink just as I left it earlier today, trying to replicate the way she had it in the guest bathroom. Lifting her to sit on the counter, I stand between her spread legs.
“You’re going to have to tell me what to do.”
She points to a bottle of clear liquid. “That goes on a cotton round.”
I do as she says, squirting some onto one of her cotton pads.
Miller closes her eyes. “That’ll take off the majority. Just wipe it off.”
Hesitantly, I wipe at her cheek because that seems like a safe bet. A swipe of color comes off on the pad, so with a bit more confidence, I run it over her eyebrow and get a swipe of brown. I gently run it over her eyes as her mascara melts away, and I clean up as much as I can without leaving her looking too much like a raccoon. Then, I repeat the same to the other side.
“What next?”
She grabs another bottle, squeezing a pea size on my fingertip. “Just move that everywhere.” She makes a motion with her hands, but that seems kind of rough, so instead I carefully swipe it across her jaw, using my fingertips to rub delicate circles until it starts to sud.
Miller is wearing a goofy smile as I work, and I can tell she wants to give me shit for this taking so long, but I ignore her and continue, making sure to get all the way to the edges of her face.
We go through the rest of her skin care routine, finishing with moisturizer, as she calls it, and when I put some on her skin, she takes some and rubs it on mine.
“For your mature skin,” she says with a chuckle, swiping it over my face before dropping her hands to either side of my neck. “I missed you and Max tonight.”
Fucking hell. She’s got to stop, but I have a feeling she won’t because she’s buzzing with alcohol and her lips are real loose because of it.
“We missed you too.” I rub the light purple cream onto her face. “Did you have fun?”
She nods with a childish smile. “I like those girls, and I like Kennedy. A lot.”
“Good. I’m glad you two are becoming friends. I’m sure it’s nice for her to finally have another woman traveling with us.”
“Yeah, and it’s nice to talk to someone when my head is a mess over you.”
My chest rumbles in a laugh. “Your head is a mess over me, huh, Mills? I’m flattered.”
“You should be.”
When I’m done with her skin care, Miller wraps her hair in a knot, trying to secure a hair tie around it, but the girl is still drunk as a skunk.
“Let me have that.” Taking the tie from her, I gather her hair in my fists, much in a way I’ve done a time or two before, as I make something resembling a bun, wrapping the hair tie around it twice.
Miller checks the mirror. “That looks terrible, Ace.”
I smile at her. It does look terrible.
Her eyes find mine in the reflection. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Cuddle with me?”
“I’m sorry, but did you just say cuddle?” I touch her forehead with the back of my hand. “What the hell did you drink tonight?”
“Shut up.” She wraps her legs around my waist and her arms around my shoulders as I carry her back into my room. Once I’ve gotten the drunk girl in bed and the lights off, I remove my glasses and crawl in with her. Opening my arm out wide, Miller lifts her head, cradling herself against my chest like some kind of seasoned cuddler.
We don’t talk. We simply lay together and I’m almost certain she’s fallen asleep until she speaks into the silence.
“Tonight, I told the girls that sometimes I think about not going back to work.”
I swear time stands still as those words leave her lips. My eyes shoot open, staring at the darkness, and replaying her words to make sure I heard them right.
I swallow. “Why do you say that?”
“I don’t want to leave Max.”
Goddamn, my heart is thundering against my chest, sharp pricks burning my eyes because this girl loves my boy so fiercely. It’s something I wasn’t sure would ever happen, to have someone else love my child in the way I hoped they would.
“But I have to go back,” she continues.
Biting my tongue, I wait until I can find the right response. “Yeah,” I exhale. “You do.”
She tilts her head to look at me. “I do?”
“It’s your dream, Mills. I won’t let you walk away from that because of my son.”
Or because of me.
She settles her head back into my chest. “The pressure to perform, to live up to the expectations, is scary. There’s a part of me that battles with wondering if I’m worthy of those expectations, you know?”
“Pressure is a privilege, Miller. Expectations are high because you’re successful. If you were average, no one would be waiting on bated breaths for you. I think about that every night I take the mound. You just have to decide if your dreams and goals are worth the pressure. If you want to live up to the expectations set for you.”
“I do. I want to be the best.”
“Then do it.”
That seems like the appropriate amount of encouragement for a result I’m absolutely dreading, so in a moment of selfishness I ask, “Does your career make you happy?”
She waits, flipping to look up to the ceiling, lacing her fingers with mine. “No.”
Grinding my molars, I try my best to keep calm. There’s a weird contradiction happening, me wanting her to find happiness, but in a way, glad that the thing that will take her away from me isn’t it. But what the hell am I supposed to say? Encourage her drunken ramblings because her staying is exactly what I want her to do?
I promised her dad I wouldn’t do that.
She’s having fun this summer, which is the only reason she’s questioning her job. Out of sight. Out of mind. That’s all this is.
She’ll remember it’s what she wants as soon as she leaves here. Leaves me.
“But I don’t know if it’s about being happy,” she continues. “I want to prove that I can do it. I want to prove that I’m worth the award I won. I want to prove that I’m doing something that justifies the fact my dad gave up his entire life for me.”
And there it is.
“Miller—”
“Don’t tell him I said that.”
“Love isn’t earned. Monty gave up his career because he loves you unconditionally. You don’t have to pay him back by chasing accolades. That’s not how it works.”
“You don’t get it, Kai. He gave up his entire life for me and he barely knew me. It’s why I don’t want you to retire yet. I don’t want Max to feel like a burden the way I did.”
“Miller.” My tone is a bit sharp, mostly because I don’t like her talking about herself in that way. “I can’t think of a single person who would feel burdened by having you in their life.”
“You did. When I first got here.”
“Well, I changed my mind. Now I just feel lucky.”