The Girl in the Love Song (Lost Boys 1)

His shoulders came down a little. “It’s not your fault. I shouldn’t have kissed you.”

The wind blew my hair over my face, hiding the pain that flashed over me. When I could think of nothing else but our kiss, he regretted it. The pendulum had swung to me and wasn’t going to budge.

“Whatever happened, happened,” I said. “I came here tonight for the simple fact that I miss you. I miss my friend. That’s all I wanted to say. That these last months have been really hard without you, and… I just wanted you to know that.”

It was silent but for the wind and the ocean crashing on the shore. Miller stopped and half-sat, half-leaned on a boulder, hands in his pockets, his knit beanie keeping the hair from his eyes as they looked up at me.

“A bunch of stuff to say to you popped in my head when you asked me if we could talk,” he said gruffly. “Cutting or cold things meant to push you away. Keep you at a safe distance. But I don’t want to hurt you. It’s really the last fucking I want to do.”

I shivered, hugged myself in my sweatshirt. “I don’t want you to be hurt either. I love seeing you here with your friends. I’m glad you have them. So glad for that.”

Miller’s jaw clenched, a muscle ticking in his cheek. Finally, he threw up his hands. “Jesus, Vi. You’re standing there, looking like you do, saying sweet things and making it impossible…”

“To what?” I breathed.

“Nothing. Never mind. I just…I miss you too. You’ve always been there for me. Always. And to not have you…” He crossed his arms, as if holding his walls in place. His voice turned ragged with regret. “But I’m seeing someone else and I don’t take any commitment lightly.”

“I know you don’t. I’m not here to interfere, I promise. But if I am, I’ll go. I’ll leave you alone.”

Even if it wrecks me.

He watched me for a second, then gave a short laugh, shaking his head. “You? Leave me alone?”

I frowned, confused. “I don’t—”

“Dr. McNamara can’t leave a patient alone if she tried. How hard has it been for you to not ask me about my numbers?”

I eased a breath, understanding what he was doing. “Damn near impossible.” I crossed my arms and gave him a stern look, even as my heart was bursting with joy and relief. “Well? How are they? How many beers have you had?”

He chuckled and pushed himself off the rock, toward me. “They’re fine. I’ve had one beer, and I’ll have one more. That’s it.” He was standing in front of me now.

“Good,” I said, my throat thick. “And if you try for a third, I’ll throw sand in it.”

“I bet you would.”

Miller’s smile faded as he looked down at me. Strands of hair were stuck to my cheek by the wind. His hand came up as if he wanted to brush them away, his eyes on my mouth. Then he caught himself and stepped back.

“You’re shivering,” he said. “We should get back to the fire.”

“Okay.”

I wanted a hug to seal the deal. I ached to feel his arms around me, to lose myself in the familiarity of him, but I guessed he felt we weren’t there yet. I swallowed back my disappointment and contented myself with the fact that we were talking again. He had a girlfriend now, and it wasn’t fair—or right—to ask for more.

We returned to the circle of friends. Shiloh immediately read on my face that things were better. Not to where they had been; after the earth-shattering kiss, they probably never would be, but it was a start.

She smiled, and I smiled back.

Holden read the lessening of tension between Miller and me like an emcee reading the room. He was pretty drunk, I noticed, his clear green eyes bleary with whatever he was sipping from

his flask.

“They’re back. Got it all sorted? Got it all straight between you?”

“Shut up, Parish,” Ronan intoned.

“Fuck off, Wentz,” Holden shot back. “The long winter of our discontent and his moping is finally over. Time to celebrate.”

Miller ignored his friends’ bickering and looked to me. “You want a blanket or something?”