Page 9 of Deception & Daylight (Oak Ridge #3)

Mags

? Pain is Cold Water - Noah Kahan

“ T his’ll be the primary bedroom with an en suite bathroom.

I told Luca if it doesn’t have a soaker tub, I don’t want it.

” Ivy’s face lights up as she guides me through the bare bones of their new build out at Whispering Oaks Ranch and I follow along while she describes all the little details she has planned for each space.

“Then back here, we’ll have a set of antique French doors that lead out to a massive wraparound porch. ”

The view of the pasture and the acres of farmland beyond feels endless and immovable. A foal whinnies in the distance, cozying up to its mother on the vast expanse of land.

As we round the corner at the back of what can only be loosely described as a house, Luca sidles up next to us. “If my wife would quit distracting the crew, maybe we could actually get the work done in time for this little one’s arrival,” he teases, wrapping his arms around her tiny baby bump.

They married roughly a year ago in hopes of keeping Ivy and her daughter safe from her piece of shit ex. Once they got their heads out of their asses and admitted their feelings for one another, Luca proposed again. Ivy’s four months pregnant now, and they’re disgustingly in love.

“I’m only distracting you , as far as I can tell.” She gestures wildly around the barren worksite, the entire crew having already left for their lunch break.

“You got me there.” He kisses her cheek, then glances at me. “How’s it going, Mags?”

I never know how to answer that. If I’m honest, it’ll make things awkward. Call me crazy, but “I feel like shit on the bottom of someone’s shoe, thanks for asking” doesn't feel like an appropriate response. But I don’t want to lie and say I’m fine, so I deflect with humor.

“Better since having received a very thoughtful care package from your wife.”

Ivy snorts out a laugh. “I couldn’t in good conscience allow you to go unsatisfied.”

“I’d offer to repay the favor, but I think Luca has things well in hand.”

Luca avoids eye contact, and if he didn’t have a beard covering half his face, I’m certain he’d be blushing.

The sound of footsteps crunching on gravel has me whipping my head around as Miles materializes out of the trailer with a cup of coffee in hand and his stupid signature smirk on his face. “Ladies,” he says with a nod.

I hate to admit it, but he looks hot as fuck in his work clothes. A pair of distressed jeans hug his round ass, his thighs straining at the seams, and there’s something about the tool belt that’s really doing it for me.

“My eyes are up here, Wildcat.” He crosses his arms over his chest, showing off his muscled biceps and I’m absolutely done for; I need to schedule a date with the aforementioned vibrator asap. Not that I’ll be thinking of Miles while I do.

Ther e’s that ridiculous nickname again. I don’t know when it changed from Little Minx to Wildcat, but I’ll never admit the latter is growing on me. I roll my eyes, knowing full well he caught me leering at him. Sure, I can’t fucking stand the man, but I’m not blind.

“I better get going. Thanks for the tour, Ivy. It was good seeing you both. Miles… not so much.”

“Ah, come on Mags. You know you missed me.”

“Like a hemorrhoid.”

Ivy lets out a bark of laughter, then locks her elbow through mine and leans in. “You sure you don’t want to come by the ranch with me? Evie always makes way more food than necessary, and I know she’d love to see you.”

Evelyn Hayes co-owns Whispering Oaks Ranch with her husband, Russell.

She’s like a mom to Ivy, and she just so happens to run the only therapy practice in town.

I love Evie, but the last thing I need is a therapist analyzing me over lunch.

Besides, I’ve had just about enough socializing for one day.

It’s clear my friends are doing their level best to stop me from hiding myself away at the inn, and I’m defenseless against them.

I’m being passed around like a blunt at a frat party.

“Maybe another time. I’m meeting Paige for lunch at Rosie’s.”

“Next time. Say hi to Paige for me,” she says, pulling me in for a quick side hug.

“Mind giving me a ride to my truck?” Miles asks, lifting his shirt to wipe the sweat off his brow. I track his movement, ogling the defined ab muscles peeking out beneath the fabric. What I wouldn’t give to lick that happy trail leading to his — “Mags?”

“Hm? What?”

Miles chuckles, and that deep, throaty sound does nothing to quell the growing ache between my thighs.

I tamp down the urge to climb him like a tree and have angry hate sex as I gesture for him to follow me to the side by side.

Once inside, Miles opens his mouth to speak, but I step on the gas, jerking the vehicle forward a little too violently.

The motion sends pain radiating through my side, and I instantly regret my actions.

“Woah, there. Are you trying to hurt yourself?”

“Nope. Just you.”

He shakes his head then lifts his baseball cap, running his fingers through his blonde locks and replacing it backwards on his head. Fuck, why is that hot?

“Fair enough,” he says. “Are you planning to hate me forever?”

“I was hoping I could just ignore you, but that works, too.”

“Come on, Mags. I’m not so bad. Can’t we call a truce?

You’ll be here for a while and in case you haven’t noticed, Oak Ridge isn’t exactly a bustling metropolis.

Hell, you’re staying at my mother’s inn.

We’re bound to run into each other from time to time and it might be nice if we weren’t constantly at each other’s throats. ”

I quickly pull to a stop beside his truck. “Have you forgotten what you did to me? I know it was two years ago, Miles, but you left me there. I waited for you at the goddamn airport and you didn’t fucking show up. Do you know how humiliating that is? You know what? No. I’m not doing this.”

I glance over my shoulder, taking in his stunned expression.

For a moment, I think he’s going to apologize, his shoulders slumping slightly, but then his jaw tightens and the moment passes.

I watch his back as he disappears behind his truck, then take off towards my rental before I can do something stupid like follow him.

Someth ing about walking into Rosie’s Diner on a Monday morning feels fundamentally right.

It’s the epitome of small town charm, with old vinyl booths lining the weathered wood walls, and large picture windows that look out over main street.

I’ve visited Oak Ridge a handful of times since Paige moved here, and Rosie’s has always called to me like a beacon.

I think it’s the pancakes, to be honest.

I’ve been in town for barely 48 hours, and I already feel more at peace than I have in months.

People often talk about having a soft place to land, somewhere or someone that provides comfort and safety.

For me, that’s Paige, and by extension, Oak Ridge.

I didn’t know home could be a person until I met her.

I’ve always been a bit of a wanderer, drifting from one place to another, searching for belonging and never quite finding it.

But somehow I feel like I have that here. So why can’t I convince myself to stay?

The instinct to run has been ingrained in me for as long as I can remember, a habit formed from a lifetime of instability.

I crave the comfort of belonging, yet the fear of becoming rooted often holds me back.

Even now, as I savor this newfound sense of comfort, there’s a voice in my head urging me to keep moving, as if staying might somehow ruin me.

I spot Paige at the end of the long counter, talking to Rosie herself, and she smiles upon my approach. “Well, if it isn’t my favorite girl!” Rosie says, practically beaming as the older woman pulls me into a hug. I’m barely more than 5 ft tall, and Rosie is even shorter.

“Hey now! I thought I was your favorite girl.” Paige pouts as she eyes Rosie from across the counter.

“You’re old news. Practically a townie now.”

Paige huffs out a breath, feigning indignation. “Worst customer service ever.” Rosie chuckles and heads back into the kitchen through the swinging doors, causing the mouthwatering scent of freshly baked apple pie to drift through the air.

“H ow are you feeling?” Paige asks.

And so it begins. I kept everything pretty vague when I relayed the information about my assault, but I knew I’d eventually have some questions to answer. As terrifying as it was, reliving it is worse.

“I’m ok. A little sore and the doctor said the concussion might last a couple of weeks.

My ribs are the worst of it.” My voice is devoid of any emotion as I carefully lift my shirt, showing off the blue and purple marks that surround my torso on one side.

Paige gasps in shock, clearly holding back tears.

What does it say about me that my best friend can muster more emotion than I can?

I haven’t even cried once — I just feel like an empty vessel.

“That’s awful, Mags. But I wasn’t talking about the physical scars.

” No, of course she wasn’t, but I’m not ready to delve into the deeper wounds just yet; the ones that hide beneath the surface.

They consume me at night when I’m most vulnerable and resurface during the day when I least expect it.

I’m only a hairpin trigger away from a complete breakdown.

“All things considered, I’m doing okay, Paige. Promise. I barely remember anything.”