Miller's Time (Southern Charmers 2)

“Thank God you did, but I’m still going to—”

I throw my hand in the air. “Do not make me regret telling you these things.”

“Regret it, Ashlyn? You should have had us on the next plane to Chicago to move your ass out of there.”

“I forgot it. The minute I walked into the bar next door, my new life took over.” I dare to look at Miller, who’s scary mad, but his eyes soften with understanding.

He finally has the complete story. And he gets it.

“That’s the night you met Miller?” Austin stops pacing, clearly hearing our farce story through the gossip grapevine.

“It is, and he changed my life. The following Monday, I walked back into that firm with a new purpose. Because of him, I saw the good in people and had the courage to find myself again.”

“Princess, get back here.” He extends his arms, but I don’t go to him. Instead, I ease Runner to the floor and stand, my stomach protesting the movement.

“Guys, I need y’all to listen to me. It took months of planning to leave. I made it my mission to find out who else was involved with Brock’s arrangement. Then I made it clear to Brock, if he fucked with me again, I’d blow the roof off his plans to seduce his way through the case. That’s why I don’t think these messages are from him. He’s all balls and brass, doesn’t hide behind shadows. He called Mom directly, looking for me. He wears thirty-thousand-dollar watches, walks into a room demanding attention, and had no qualms crushing people on his way to the top. This unknown number isn’t his style. He’d contact me directly out of pure arrogance. I pissed off many people and put a lot in jeopardy when I left.”

“What’s with the endless screenshots and attachments?” Miller tries, but fails, to ask in an even voice.

“My guess is they are threatening to end my career, demolish my reputation, make it where no respectable company will hire me. But my work is solid and by the book. It may be marred with moral toxin, but there’s nothing in my record that’s legally corrupt.”

“Is that why you’ve been stalling on the job front?”

“No, baby.” I lay my hand on his knee, which is immediately covered with his. “I’ve been stalling because I want the good next time, and I’m weighing my options. My research had been thorough… and maybe a bit cleansing?”

He dips his chin, but with anger still set on his features. “No rush, you get the best when you’re ready. You don’t have to go back to law. It’s whatever makes you happy.”

His support and safety rolls through me like a soothing balm. My frazzled nerves slow a little. I’d been hiding my past out of shame and guilt. But there’s not an ounce of judgment on any of their faces.

A fresh kind of regret settles inside. “I’m sorry it took me this long to share. It isn’t exactly something to be proud of.”

I say it out loud, apologizing to all, but hope Miller knows it has a special message directed to him.

“Ashlyn, you have a right to your privacy, but this is serious shit. We could have helped you.” Austin’s statement is loaded with hurt.

“I get it.” My head swings to Andrew, who’s staring at me thoughtfully. My heart thumps at the love and acceptance in his eyes. “I’m not going to lie, it sucks you didn’t share, but I understand it. We all knew you changed, excusing it as high-pressure and overextending yourself. I was sure you were headed for burnout, was ready to be there when it happened. Now, knowing the truth, it makes sense. I’m mad at myself for not stepping in sooner, demanding you talk, but then again, pushing you to the limit could have been worse. You always did have to do things your way. Now, standing here, I’m telling you—I get it and I’m pleased as fuck it’s all over. My sister is back and that’s what matters. I like your house, your friends, the life you’re building. Eventually, I may like your boyfriend.”

At this, I cough-laugh through more tears, going straight to my oldest brother’s arms. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, I get it, too,” Austin adds, throwing his arm around my shoulder.

I silently cry into Andrew’s chest, welcoming the warmth of their embrace. We stay like this until Runner circles our legs, bumping his way in the little clutch.

“It’s okay, sweet boy, the crying stops now.” I step back, covering my cheeks with my hands. “I’m going back to the bathroom to clean myself up.”

The dog trots along with me, laying at the entrance of the bathroom as I splash cold water on my face until the splotches fade. Miller steps over Runner, comes to my back, placing his hands on my hips and catching my eye in the mirror.