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Chapter 15

Miles

S tella hasn't said more than a few words to me since last night, and the silence has been actual torture. I wanted to ask her about all the choices she had made for the bakery—whether she chose the Alabaster white or the Champagne color, both of which I thought would be nice. But I loved the bright white she had sent me the night she shared her dream pictures for this place. I kept my fingers crossed that she’d pick the bright color to give the smaller space more depth against the dark floors. I told her we could put some shelves up high to help make it look taller and open it up even more.

These were all the things I wanted to keep talking to her about last night, but instead of manning up and going with her, I stayed at the bakery and moped. All because I couldn’t bring myself to have a simple conversation with her. Knowing it would lead to me apologizing for saying we should stop. Begging her to let me take it back and kiss her again.

It’s been twenty-six hours since we went to sleep, finally worn out from a night of fooling around. I was almost positive my dick had been sucked to the point that it might have fallen off. New fear unlocked.

Thankfully, it didn’t. It definitely still has the will to live, but only for that blonde spitfire sleeping upstairs like a baby. Luckily, the previous owners had left the upstairs apartment set up like an Airbnb, so it was already furnished, and we didn’t have to deal with any of that. Even better, it was surprisingly comfortable.

It’s only eight in the morning, but my dad and Levi came to meet me here at six to get everything loaded into the truck so we could make a dump run when they opened. I was surprised at how quickly we managed to load everything up; it took us less than an hour. Now, my dad and I are working on the flooring while Levi checks and fixes any electrical issues.

I wanted to tell her the plans for today last night, but I also wanted to take something off her plate and give her one less thing to worry about. She picked out everything she wanted, and that’s the only thing that matters to me.

I can handle the execution of the repairs, making sure the leak gets fixed, ensuring the floors are done right, the drywall is placed properly, and that we sand, mud, and paint everything to perfection. I want to help make this place not just ready for the inspection, but ready for Stella to open this location.

I’m so proud of her for following her dreams. I’m even proud of her for doing everything she possibly can on her own. She’s the most frustratingly independent woman I’ve ever met, but also the hardest-working, most driven, and incredible woman I’ve been fortunate enough to know.

But I can’t say any of this to her, because I can’t say anything to her right now. I’m too afraid that if I open my mouth, I’ll tell her what’s really on my mind. That I was an idiot. That I missed her while she went to the hardware store, even if it was only for a couple of hours. It still sucked…as pathetic as that makes me seem.

I wish I could apologize for staying behind yesterday while she picked everything out. I wish I’d gone with her, even if all I did was sit in the back and watch.

No…that sounds creepy. I just mean I could have kept her company, offered suggestions, or helped with whatever she needed.

But no, I stayed here and sulked, cleaning up more water than I thought possible, then ripping up all the floors. Thankfully, the previous owners had left some tools inside a linen closet, so I was able to use them to get started. I thought it would take a while to remove the floors, but they weren’t secured properly, and with the water damage, the pieces came apart pretty easily.

The rest of the night after she got back was pretty boring. We sat and ate pizza while watching game shows on TV, but the only things we talked about were how we were going to do the repairs and trying to answer questions faster than the contestants.

It sort of became a silent game we were playing…or at least, I think it did. It seemed like we were both trying to beat the other, seeing who could come up with the answer first.

But since this was pretty much the only time I heard her voice, I was happy she was playing the game, even if she didn’t know she was. She obviously picked up on my attitude because after she came down from her shower, she wasn’t talking to me, at least not outside of polite conversation.

I’m hoping that when I see her today, we can somehow magically go back to when we were friends. But the friends we were a few weeks ago, the friends we were before we knew what the other tasted like. I hope we can manage it, even if it’s just an act we both play a part in.

Fake it ‘till you make it, right?

“Are you going to sit there and stare at that stack, waiting for it to walk over by itself, or are you going to pick it up and carry it?” my dad says from behind me, clapping a hand on my shoulder as he walks past to grab another stack of flooring and throw it over his shoulder like he’s not in his sixties.

“Shit, sorry,” I say, shaking my head in an attempt to snap myself out of it.

Getting back to work, we spend the next few hours starting on the new flooring in the bakery while Levi finishes up the electrical work. Once that’s done, he quickly puts up the sheetrock and starts prepping it to be painted, taping and mudding it so that we can start sanding, hopefully later today.

“Let’s take a little break,” I tell everyone, moving to grab my coffee from the counter.

We’ve already finished more than half the floor and figured out a good routine that has us moving even faster than before. I measure, my dad cuts, and Levi lays the flooring down. We’ve been working the routine for a while, picking up speed each time.

Standing by the counter, I drink my coffee and pass my dad his cup.

“Thanks again for coming out to help. It really means a lot,” I tell him.

“No thanks needed. I’m glad to help.”

“Same here, man,” Levi says. “It’s nice being on your team for a project instead of against you on the ice. Feels like old times. Plus, it’s a good way to make sure I stay sharp. Don’t want to lose these important life skills for when I can’t play hockey anymore.”

Rolling my eyes, I laugh.

“I appreciate it.”

Just then, Stella comes down the stairs in a pair of cut-off shorts and a tank top, her hair up in a high pony, the blonde waves falling down her back. She’s gorgeous.

She looks surprised to see how much work has been done but immediately walks over to greet Levi and my dad.

“Hi, I’m Stella,” she says with a smile, reaching out first to shake my dad’s hand, who seems very excited to meet her.

“This is my dad, Marcus,” I tell her.

“It’s nice to meet you, Stella, I’ve heard a lot about you,” my dad says with a wink, and I quickly turn to Levi.

“And this is my old friend, Levi.”

“Piss off, you’re older than me,” Levi says before turning to Stella with a smile and shaking her hand as well. “It’s nice to finally put a face to the name.”

They both seem to appreciate it, instantly talking to her about the bakery. It sounds like they’ll be here first thing when it opens.

“You guys have been working fast,” she says, taking in all the work we’ve done. “Everything looks perfect.”

“Really?” I say nervously.

“Seriously. It’s exactly what I envisioned.”

“Well, we’re not done yet,” my dad says. “We still need to finish laying the floor before I can get home for dinner.”

“I can always take you all out to eat later,” Stella says with a smile, clearly enjoying being around everyone.

“That sounds great,” Levi says.

“I’ll have to take a rain check. The Mrs. wants a date night, so I want to get home for that,” my dad says, a boyish smile on his face that reminds me he’s always been head over heels for my mom. They’re so cute, and they’re the reason I believe in love.

But they’re also the reason I can’t let Stella go. There’s something about her that reminds me of my parents, and I’ve held on to her for so long that I’m not even sure I know how to let go completely.

“Why don’t I help out, and we can make this go a little quicker?”

“Sure,” Levi says. “You can come help me.”

He didn’t mean to annoy me, but that one small gesture—a simple act of kindness that took her away from helping me— definitely pissed me off.

After a few hours of working together, we had the rest of the floor finished, and my dad and Levi headed back to the dump.

Hopefully, I'll get a chance to see my dad one more time.

Stella and I passed the time getting ready, neither of us saying much. I hate that it’s still awkward, especially with other people coming out with us tonight. It won't be fun if we're walking on eggshells the whole time.

Once Levi got back from his dump run with my dad, we said our goodbyes before deciding to head to a bar just down the street. He mentioned that his friend Quinn was already there and that we could just go meet up with her.

It's a nice bar—good music and plenty of room to mingle. I can’t complain. But I can’t help the growing distance that creeps between Stella and me. It's hard to sit here, watching Stella and Levi talk, drinking and giggling away, completely lost in whatever the hell they're going on about.

The whole time they're talking, Quinn flirts with me, constantly trying to touch me. I keep pushing her hand away, doing my best to stay respectful while trying to make it clear that my eyes are on one person—and one person only.

But she doesn't get the hint. And once I realize it's making Stella jealous, I decide to lean into it and stop pushing Quinn away.

“So, what are you guys doing for the rest of the night?” Quinn says, batting her eyelashes up at me as she brushes against my knee.

I'm not sure what to say, but it doesn’t matter because Stella interrupts, answering for me, inviting Quinn and Levi back to the bakery with us.

After a quick deliberation, they agree to come along, and we make our way back to the apartment, stopping at the convenience store to grab a case of beer before gathering in the living room upstairs. We sit, drinking beer and talking about whatever random shit comes to mind. But no matter who’s talking, my gaze keeps drifting back to her.

But Quinn is here, and I’m doing my best to keep my eyes where I need them to be, and that’s on Quinn sitting next to me, not Stella, who’s clear across the room.

“So, how long are you in town for?” Quinn asks, scooting closer to me on the couch, our legs touching. My skin heats where she touches me, but not in an exciting way like the way Edward from Twilight would sparkle if he stepped into the sunlight. It’s more like a burn, the way it would feel if you took a cake out of the oven without oven mitts.

Leaning into the pain, I move my hand to her thigh, letting it rest there gently, not missing Stella’s hurt expression out of the corner of my eye. As much as I should be bothered by seeing her like this, it somehow makes me hate myself less, knowing she wants me as badly as I want her. I glance back at Quinn and smirk. “Just a few more days, sweetheart,” I whisper, my thumb rubbing small circles on her inner thigh.

Her eyes drop to my hand before she looks back up at me and giggles, “That should be plenty of time.”

More than enough, sweetheart. In fact, too much time.

She turns to look down at her phone, scrolling through social media and occasionally showing me a video, each time scooting closer and closer. Leaning back on the couch, Levi and I talk about the upcoming hockey season, specifically the game we have here our first week. It should be a fun one. The Cyclones and the Firebirds aren’t exactly rivals, but our games are always intense, very physical, and full of colorful language.

We’re talking a little shit, like usual, but I can’t keep my mind off Stella, even though my hand is still on Quinn.

It’s driving me nuts.

The only silver lining tonight is that, although Stella has barely spoken to me—and it’s been killing me—watching her get jealous because I’m giving Quinn attention…secretly feels good. It reminds me that the only reason she’s acting this way is because of my decision.

I’ve been having a little fun with it, but now feels like a good time to ramp things up a bit further. After Quinn went to the kitchen to grab another round of beers, I let her sit in my lap when she came back, watching the anger flare in Stella’s eyes.

It’s sucked watching her with Levi tonight, so I’m probably getting the same reaction from her now, seeing me with Quinn. She’s got to be able to tell that I’m jealous—hell, it’s obvious from the daggers I keep throwing his way.

Levi’s smirked at me a couple of times, so I’m guessing he’s noticed, but he doesn’t seem to care. If it were anyone else, I might assume he was smirking because of Stella, but I’ve seen something between him and Quinn tonight that makes me think they’re playing some sort of cat-and-mouse game—at least, that’s what I’ve heard. Tonight, it just so happens that we’re both playing the same game.

I guess we’ll see who snaps first.