20. Chapter Twenty

The temperature dropped along with the sun. We built a roaring fire in the outdoor pit and all eight of us were sitting around it, blankets covering us. Everyone was drinking but no one was wasted.

A year ago, in this same position, I would've been blitzed and acting stupid. The next day, I wouldn't have remembered anything, but the shame would have been there.

Now, I got to spend a cozy evening in the mountains, Daisy by my side, curled into me to steal my warmth, talking to my brother and his friends. My friends. Even Elliot was tolerable without a few shots to soften the effect of his existence.

I trailed my fingers along Daisy's side, tracing the curve of her waist and hip, down to her upper thigh, and back again. She must not have been aware of it, but every time I started my ascent, she let out a high-pitched sigh I felt in my gut. It was so sweet and content—and I was the one making her feel it.

Weston unfolded from his seat, holding up his empty beer bottle. "I'm going to grab another drink. Anyone want a refill?"

Answers were murmured as he grabbed a couple empties on his way, pausing by Daisy and me. "Daisy? Beer? Wine?"

She smiled up at him and lifted her pink lemonade in a tumbler. "I don't drink. I'm happy with my pink lemonade."

"All right. I'll make a mental note." He winged a brow at me. "You, Miles? I'm surprised you haven't cracked the Macallan."

My stomach twisted into ugly knots. "I'm not drinking."

"Ah…" He nodded like something had dawned on him. "Solidarity with your girl. Nice of you."

He walked off, and I felt Saoirse's glare from one side, Daisy's curious stare from the other. Neither would say anything around everyone else—which was good. I didn't particularly want to delve into the topic of my brother never seeing me, even now.

"You don't drink, Daisy?" Saoirse asked.

"No. I did the whole college experimenting thing, but getting wasted has never really held any appeal."

Elise tuned into their conversation. "You don't ever want to curl up with a glass of wine after a long day?"

Daisy huffed a laugh. "I work from home designing websites. By the end of the day, I'm so scrunched up, the last thing I want to do is sit more."

"She lies," I told them. "She has one of those walking pads under her desk so she can work and walk."

"It helps me focus and be more productive," she defended even though she didn't need to. I liked that she had a body that needed to move, just like me.

"I've heard that," Kit chimed in. "I've been thinking about getting one, but my desk chair is so comfy…"

"You don't need to be more productive," Elliot murmured. "You do enough."

"Thank you for noticing." Leaning over, she kissed his jaw. "And for the desk chair."

"I could use a new chair, Levy," I called across the fire.

He lowered his chin, giving me a long stare. "You have money, Aldrich. Use it."

"I do have money, it's just that sometimes I get these random pains in my ass. My doctors said that might happen after getting shot. Remember that? When I jumped in front of a bullet for you?"

Elliot exhaled. "You didn't so much as jump, just happened to be in the same place the bullet was going."

I scratched the side of my head. "I guess we remember it differently. Trauma does affect memory. That's what my surgeon told me."

Kit pressed her hand on Elliot's chest before he could tell me to fuck off. He was too much fun to goad, and there was no possible way I wasn't going to milk the scar on my ass until my last breath.

"If Miles wants a chair, he can have a chair, right, love?" She had this Elliot-taming voice that instantly melted his spine of ice. He leaned into her like he couldn't help it and nuzzled the side of her face.

"Whatever you want."

Kit's gaze flicked back to me, a grin curving her lips. She knew what I was doing, and though she might've found me amusing, she was firmly on Elliot's side.

As she should be.

"Want a chair, Miles?" she asked.

I waved her off. "Nah, that's okay. Thanks for asking."

The night went on. We hung by the fire, telling stories and talking until, couple by couple, everyone drifted back to their rooms. Daisy stuck around to help me shut everything down and clean up. By the time we got to our room, I was ready to face-plant on the mattress—and looking even more forward to it since she'd be there with me.

She went into the bathroom to change while I put on my pajamas in our room. When she was dressed, she cracked the door open, inviting me in. She was bent over the sink, scrubbing her face. I stopped right beside her to take a good long look at the body that had been attached to mine the last few hours.

Since she was wearing a cami and shorts, more of her skin was on display than I'd ever had the pleasure of seeing. I was surprised to find she didn't have tattoos. With her combat boots and general "fuck off" attitude, I'd assumed they were par for the course. Daisy wasn't like anything I'd expected. It made sense she was all pale, smooth skin.

"I feel you staring." She was holding a steaming washcloth over her face. "Why are you staring?"

"Looking at your jams." I ran my finger along the spaghetti strap of her top. "I didn't know what kind you wore."

She tossed the cloth in the sink and patted her face dry while sweeping me with her gaze. For her sake, I wore black sleep pants and a white T-shirt. Normally, it was boxers or nothing, but that wasn't in the cards this weekend.

Even though I would have loved nothing more than to strip both our clothes off, get in bed, pull the covers over us, and hold her bare skin against mine.

"I thought for sure you slept naked," she said.

"You thought right." I plucked at my shirt. "This is me protecting your modesty."

The sputter that burst out bent her in half. "Don't worry about me. My modesty's a-okay without you protecting it." She started for the door, throwing a quick glance over her shoulder. "Wear, or don't wear, what you want. It won't bother me."

By the time I'd brushed my teeth and lost the shirt, Daisy was tucked in bed, lying on her side, facing my spot. I slid in, rolling to face her. We both smelled a little like smoke from the fire, but it was comforting rather than bothersome.

She was chewing on her bottom lip, her eyes dancing over me. Forcing a half-smile, I exhaled.

"Ask it, Daisy-daze. I can see you're dying to."

She let go of her lip, and a line appeared between her furrowed brow. "Doesn't Weston know you're sober?"

"I told him after I made the decision to stop drinking. I'd been a month sober, completed three weeks in rehab, and felt ready to tell him I was really doing it."

Her eyes flared. "And he just…forgot?"

"No." My lids lowered, the memories of all the times I'd vowed sobriety flooding back. "He just didn't believe me. I can't even tell you how many times I've told him I wasn't drinking anymore only to get plastered that same night. I don't blame Weston for taking what I'd said with a giant grain of salt."

"But you've almost got a year, Miles." She scooted closer and poked my chest. "That's a huge deal. Are you're just…never going to tell him? Let him figure it out himself in a decade?"

"I don't know, Cupcake. I haven't planned that far." I scooped her up and rolled so she was on top of me. "You wanna lie on me for a while and maybe fall asleep on my chest? It'll be cute."

She wiggled around until she was propped on her forearms. No way she couldn't feel me hard beneath her, but neither of us were acknowledging it.

"I think you should tell him. It's important to have support around you."

"Saoirse knows, which I figure means Luca does too." I cuffed her chin with my knuckle. "Now, you do too. That's all the support I need."

Her nostrils flared. "I disagree."

"Message received. Now, lay your big head on my chest and go to sleep."

"My head isn't big. Shut up."

"Prove it by putting it right here." I patted the center of my sternum. "Come on, Cupcake. I'm tired and need my prickly little snuggler to put me to sleep."

Her head slowly lowered right where I wanted it to be, and I exhaled in pure contentment. The weight of her pressing on me combined with her fingers sliding around my neck to toy with the hair at my nape and her soft breaths on my skin relaxed me like nothing else had.

We shouldn't have been doing this. Holding her in this bed had nothing to do with starting her business and everything to do with a craving I was choosing not to deny.

It was one night. That was all. A few blurred lines wouldn't bring everything crumbling down.

We'd get back on track tomorrow.

No problem.

She let out a happy sigh, and I clutched her to me like she'd blow away if I didn't.

Yeah. No problem at all, asshole.