Not A Hero: A Bad Boy Marine Romance

  “Hmm,” Mollie interjected. “That is a little strange, but on the other hand, he could just be working really hard. With everything he’s gone through, that would probably be a good thing.”

  “Maybe,” Zoe agreed, but something inside her told her that wasn’t the case. “Or maybe I made a mistake.”

  “You’re not the mistake type, girl,” Arienne said. “He’s damn lucky to have you.”

  “I told him about Rusty, and about the baby,” Zoe admitted, playing with the silver pendant on her necklace. Tiny footprints made from a mold of her child’s feet, and then shrunk small enough to hang around her neck—her most cherished possession. “I told him everything, and I scared him off.”

  Mollie and Arienne exchanged glances.

  “Wow, you told him all of it?” Arienne finally asked. “You’ve barely talked about it with anyone—even us.”

  Zoe nodded, chewing the inside of her lip as she thought about that fact. Most people in Slipwick had heard rumors—it was a small town, after all. However, she hadn’t discussed it with anyone outside of her family and her two best friends. Even then, she’d skimped on a lot of details and moved past it quickly. Therapy had certainly helped her get a better perspective on the whole thing and learn to cope, but it was still sensitive to talk about with other people. “Yeah, I told him the whole story.”

  “Well, I highly doubt that’s why he’s been MIA,” Mollie countered. “What did he say when you told him?”

  “He was perfect. He was angry for me, sad for me,” Zoe reminisced, wondering how in one week she’d gone to feeling the happiest of her life to feeling abandoned and rejected. “He cared for me.”

  Mollie tilted her head to the side, her hand on her heart. “That’s so sweet.”

  “It sounds to me like he feels the same way you do,” Arienne added, opening another packet of sugar and dumping it in her mug. “I think this week is just busy, new job and all that. I wouldn’t read too much into it.”

  “I agree with Ari,” Mollie said. “He’s got a lot going on, and you already know he’s having a tough time adjusting back to civilian life. What about trying to plan something romantic for the two of you this weekend?”

  Zoe took another swallow of her coffee. “I could do that.”

  “See, then you two are going to be fine.” Mollie smiled.

  “A real life happily-ever-after,” Arienne added.

  Zoe smiled at them both, already starting to plan something romantic to do in her head. Her heart began pounding in her chest as excitement took over. Her friends were right; she was reading into something that wasn’t there. Chock it up to dating nerves, since she was definitely out of practice on that front.

  She knew what she felt when she was with Miles. She could tell from his face, and the way he talked to her and kissed her, he felt the same. There was no reason to worry—she was in love.

  21

  That jerk. Zoe downed the rest of her glass of champagne and picked up her phone, glancing at it for the thirtieth time.

  Ninety minutes late was he-better-be-hurt-or-dying territory, otherwise he was just a jerk. Not that she hoped he was hurt, but…ninety minutes?

  She’d texted him the previous afternoon when she’d left her friends, telling him she’d like to make him a nice, romantic dinner on Saturday night since he’d be back from his business trip Saturday morning. Not only had she not seen him all day, but she’d spent a good five hours cooking and prepping a picnic at the end of the dock.

  She’d covered the end of the dock in a patterned blanket, a bucket of ice with champagne, a wicker basket with dinner, and even a lantern for mood lighting. It was very do-it-yourself and cutesy, but add in the shimmering lake and the stars above and it was downright romantic.

  It was supposed to be reminiscent of where it all started—hello, midnight swimming—and of where they had last been together. Because it’d been a week since they had hit the sheets…er, or deck. She’d gone almost two years without sex, so it wasn’t like she was going to die after a week without, but once she’d been with him…really been with him…well, it sucked to be apart, even if only a week.

  But none of that was even why she’d wanted the dinner tonight. She’d wanted to reconnect emotionally. She’d wanted to feel the flutter in her stomach every time he looked at her when she felt like she was right where she needed to be, like she belonged. Like she was in love.

  The truth was, she was head over heels for him.

  She wasn’t ready to tell him, at least she didn’t think she was, and a week ago, she’d have probably said he felt the same way. But now? Now she felt like a stereotypical, silly girl waiting by the phone for a man to call who just wasn’t that into her.

  So, why did she still like him so much?

  And how did this happen? Zoe pondered as she poured herself another glass of champagne she’d bought for the two of them, but was now close to polishing off by herself. She didn’t feel tipsy though, probably because she’d been drinking slowly and eaten an entire steak and baked potato in the meantime.

  He might have stood her up, but she wasn’t about to starve.

  Wait, he stood me up? The thought hit Zoe hard as she realized he might not be late, but, rather, not coming at all. He had never responded to her message, but she knew he’d read it, and even without the confirmation, it hadn’t occurred to her he wouldn’t show entirely.

  Bright flashes suddenly came from up the hill at the house, distracting her from her men-are-dogs train of thought. Red, white, and blue lit the trees on the shore’s edge and her heart dropped into her stomach.

  Walter!

  Yanking her phone out of her pocket, she checked to see if she’d somehow missed a call from the house, but there was nothing. She’d last checked him over an hour ago, fast asleep and perfectly fine. Had something happened?

  Zoe jumped to her feet and ran back down the dock toward the shore, abandoning her picnic dinner. She climbed the path faster than ever before, reaching the porch steps and taking them two at a time. The deck wrapped around the house and she circled it in seconds, screeching to a stop as she came to the front door.

  A police car was pulling into the driveway, lights beaming, but no sirens.

  Deputy Thompson, one of her father’s best friends, stepped out of the driver’s door. He tipped his hat to her, but didn’t make direct eye contact. Instead, he opened the door to the back seat and yanked Miles out by his elbow. So, this isn’t about Walter.

  Miles stumbled slightly, then laughed. “Whoops!”

  “Just get to the house,” the deputy grumbled, marching him toward the porch stairs.

  “Miles? Deputy Thompson? What’s going on?” Zoe called out to them, her hand gripping the porch ledge as she stared down at the two men.

  She recognized drunk right away, having been way too familiar with a drunk partner in the past. Dread coiled in her stomach at the thought of history repeating itself.

  Miles tipped his head up to look at her, almost falling over backward at the movement. “Hey, look, it’s my little cricket!”

  “Hi, Zoe. Good to see you again, even under these circumstances.” The deputy helped Miles get up the steps to meet her.

  “Under what circumstances?” She was immediately afraid he’d had another car accident, this time while drinking, which made her feel a bit guilty for wishing he had a good reason to be late. Drinking while driving though? Unforgiveable. “What happened? Oh, my God, Miles! Your face!”

  There was a large gash across his cheek, bruising around his eye, and one side of his mouth was swollen. He didn’t meet her eyes, letting his head hang down as he leaned against the banister.

  “Bar fight down at the tavern.” Deputy Thompson let go of Miles, resting his hands on his duty belt. “Charges were dropped by the owner, but he’s not going to be allowed back there for a while.”

  “I didn’t start it,” Miles slurred.

  “But you certainly ended it,” the deputy said with
a shake of his head. “Can you get him inside to bed, Zoe? You’re working for his old man, right?”

  “Yeah, I am, and I can get Miles in fine,” Zoe confirmed, trying to control the anger bubbling up inside her from seeping out into her tone. “Thank you for bringing him home.”

  “Thanks. His car’s still down at the tavern if he wants to get it in the morning.”

  Zoe felt a rush of relief that at the very least, he hadn’t driven drunk. “Thanks, Deputy.”

  Deputy Thompson tipped his hat one more time before saying his goodbyes and heading back to his cruiser. Miles just stood there, leaning most of his body weight on the banister as he looked past her shoulder.

  She frowned, staring at him. He looked different than Rusty used to look when he was drunk. Her ex-husband had always been angry, knocking things over on purpose and thrashing around the house. Miles just looked…sad.

  Her heart hurt for him—and was really damn confused by him.

  “What the hell happened tonight?” Zoe finally asked once the cruiser had pulled away. “I thought we were going to have dinner together, and instead you’re off drinking and getting into fights? I’ve barely even seen you all week.”

  “I was working.” He shrugged. “New York, baby. And what dinner?”

  Zoe tilted her head, her arms crossed over her chest. “Miles.”

  There was silence for a moment, the sounds of the woods surrounding them offering background music.

  “What do you want me to say, Zoe?” The jovial attitude of moments ago was draining away, and he looked tired, and somehow, even sadder now.

  “I want you to tell me what’s going on. What happened to the man I was so happy with last week, and the week before, and the week before?” She pointed up and down his body. “This is not the man I’m dating.”

  This is a bit more like the man I divorced. She didn’t voice her thought.

  Miles shrugged as if he couldn’t care less. “It’s not my fault you pick the wrong men to be with, Zoe.”

  Her mouth fell open as she took a step back, feeling like he’d just slapped her with his words. “Excuse me?”

  Miles didn’t bother to respond. Instead, he walked past her to one of the lounge chairs on the front porch, plopping down and stretching out his legs.

  Zoe’s insides turned to fire as fury boiled in her gut. Setting her jaw, she wrapped her arms around her waist as if to hug herself. “Low blow, don’t you think? That’s how this is going to go? This is who you want to be?”

  “Zoe, I’m tired. I don’t really want to do this right now, okay?”

  She shook her head. There was no chance she’d let him push her away that easily, with no explanation. She deserved more, and she may never have demanded it from Rusty, but she wasn’t that woman anymore. She sure as hell wasn’t about to be treated like she was.

  “No, Miles, you do not get to say that to me. I want to know what you meant. You said it, so stand by your words. Tell me what you meant.”

  Miles sighed, exasperated before pulling a cushion off the couch and propping it under his head. “I told you from the start I’m not the good guy. I told you dating was a bad idea. I’m not a hero, and you’re not going to run off into the sunset with me. I can’t be that for anyone.” He gestured between the two of them. “Let’s call this what it is? Friends with benefits—just sex, okay?”

  “Just sex? Are you kidding me? No. No. I’m not going to be that for you. If that’s all you want, then we are over.” Her eyes narrowed as anger overtook her. “And, FYI, you’re an asshole.”

  “Yep.” Miles closed his eyes, lying back on the headrest.

  Zoe stomped to the front door and turned the knob. “Feel free to sleep out here tonight, because you’re not going to wake your father with your drunk stumbling.”

  His response was as disappointing as the entire evening had been. “Fine.”

  Zoe closed the door behind her and leaned back against its frame. Her shoulders shook with silent cries as she bowed her head and let her tears fall to the foyer floor. Slowly, she slid down the doorjamb until she was sitting on the cold wood. Sniffing, she folded her knees to her chest and buried her face against them.

  She had fallen in love—regrettably deep love—with someone who didn’t feel the same way.

  It was just sex.

  All the whispered sweet nothings, the moments of vulnerability, her heart on the line, and his heart open to her…none of it had been real.

  It had all been in her head.

  Miles was right—she picked the wrong men.

  22

  “What the hell is your problem?”

  Miles roused awake, finding himself staring out at the wooded front yard. A sudden pain in his side made him startle, sitting up straight and whirling around to see his father next to him.

  Walter was sitting on the outdoor couch next to him, and had just poked him in the side with a cane. “So, you sleeping outside now?”

  “Um…” Miles rubbed a hand across his face, grimacing as he realized it hurt like hell. Blurry memories of a fight the night before started coming back to him, and he groaned at the memory of throwing down at the tavern with Tobin.

  With Tobin? Shit. He’d gotten in a fight with his best friend. Or had he? He couldn’t remember.

  “Answer me, son.” Walter poked him with the cane again, and Miles waved it away. “What the hell are you doing sleeping out here with your face all torn up?”

  Miles shrugged, dropping his feet to the ground and leaning his elbows on his knees. “Just a little scuffle, Dad. It’s not that bad.”

  Walter clicked his tongue. “That’s not a little scuffle, and why the hell are you getting in fights anyway?”

  “Dad, come on.” Miles groaned, the pain in his face from his injuries becoming more prominent with every moment. “What’s with the lecture?”

  “The lecture is because you’re all I have left, Kydd. You’re it.”

  “Dad,” Miles started.

  Walter reached out and grabbed his shoulder, squeezing slightly. “Look at me, Miles.”

  He lifted his eye’s to his fathers, the same blue eyes looking back at him, except there was a sorrow and exhaustion in his father’s gaze he’d never seen before.

  “I’ve stopped the treatments, Miles,” Walter said. “I’m officially in hospice care now. Zoe’s been trying to get me to tell you for a while now, but I wasn’t ready.”

  At the mention of Zoe’s name, more flashes from last night flooded through his mind. His eyes widened as he remembered what he’d said, how coldly he had spoken, and the shattered look on her face before she’d left him—before he’d made her leave him.

  His mind roared back to everything his father had said, as regret swelled inside him. “I don’t understand. Why would you stop treatments?”

  “They weren’t working, and you were gone so you didn’t see it, but I was so, so sick, Miles. Trying to live was worse than dying, I swear. I was in so much pain, and absolutely miserable. Zoe got me through it—she’s been amazing—but yeah, I just couldn’t keep doing it when the results weren’t there. It wasn’t helping.”

  “What does all of this mean? What’s going to happen?” Miles had a million questions and his mind was still reeling from his remembrance of last night, and the news his father was delivering now.

  Walter shrugged. “Nothing too complicated about it. I’m going to die.”

  He stared at his father, trying to imagine a world where he wouldn’t be here anymore. Walter was all the family he had left, and even that didn’t come close to describing what his father meant to him.

  “How long?” he finally managed, his voice caught in his throat.

  “I’ve actually already passed the time the doctors first predicted,” Walter replied. “Still hanging in there, so I don’t really have any answers for you.”

  Miles swallowed hard, a cold sweat breaking out over his body. “I should’ve been here sooner, Dad. I’m so sorry.”

>   “No, Kydd, you’re a Marine—out of everyone, I certainly get that. You’re here now, and that’s all that matters.” Walter sighed and pointed a finger at Miles. “But I’d like here to not mean passed out drunk on my front porch.”

  Miles rubbed his hands over down the back of his neck. “Dad, I’m sorry…again. I messed up last night.”

  “In more ways than one.”

  Miles lifted his head, his brows furrowed. “Are you talking about Zoe?”

  Walter picked his cane back up and poked Miles hard in his side.

  “Ouch! What the hell, Dad?”

  “I had been talking about the bruises and cuts on your face, but what did you do to Zoe?” Walter shook his head, anger pulling his mouth into a frown. “I swear, Kydd, if you mistreated her, I’ll kill you myself. That girl’s like a daughter to me.”

  Miles dropped his head, but didn’t say a thing.

  Zoe certainly hated him now—hell, he hated himself, and he only remembered bits and pieces of last night. She’d dumped him, though he hadn’t given her much of a choice.

  If he could go back and do it all over, he’d have broken it off with her properly the week before. Instead, he’d landed an assignment in New York City and high-tailed it out of this town. It had been pure cowardice, and he was ashamed he’d stooped so low.

  Despite wanting a do-over on the how, he was sure he still would have made the same decision. She would never be with him if she knew what he’d done, particularly after what she’d been through with the loss of her own child at another man’s hands. He could never tell her, and so he was stepping back and letting her go.

  It was the best thing for the both of them.

  Even if his heart was breaking. Even if she had no idea.

  “I’ll be better, Dad,” he promised.

  Walter nodded slowly. “Yeah, you will. You’re going to apologize to her for whatever you did. Don’t think I didn’t know you two have been carrying on together for a while. She wears her heart on her sleeve, Miles, and right now, her heart is yours.”