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Lila’s P.O.V.
I woke up with a pounding headache and the unmistakable sense that I had made a terrible mistake by getting so drunk last night. The sunlight streaming through the curtains felt like needles piercing my eyes, and every sound, even the rustling of the sheets as I shifted, seemed amplified by a hundred. I groaned, pulling the blanket over my head in a feeble attempt to block out the world.
What on earth had I done last night?
Bits and pieces of the evening came back to me in flashes. There had been laughter, way too much wine… and Skye who had come to pick me up. My heart skipped a beat as I
remembered being angry with him, confronting him about something-his art, maybe? And then… and then…
“Oh God,” I whispered, my voice muffled by the blanket.
I vaguely recalled kissing Skye. Not just kissing him, but kissing him with a level of intensity that made my cheeks burn just thinking about it. My fingers instinctively touched my lips as if I could still feel the pressure of his mouth on mine, the way he’d kissed me back, the warmth of his hands on my skin.
Had that really happened? Or had it just been another one of those vivid, alcohol-fueled dreams? I honestly couldn’t be sure. The details were fuzzy, blurring together with the remnants of other dreams I’d had about him for days. But this one felt different-more real, more immediate.
I sat up slowly, wincing as the movement made my head throb. My stomach churned slightly, a not-so-subtle reminder of how much I’d had to drink the night before. I could faintly remember throwing up, too, which only added to the mortification building inside me.
“Did I kiss him? Oh, God, what if I did?”
A kiss with Skye. The best kiss I’d ever had-if it had actually happened in the first place. And if that kiss had really happened, if I’d let my guard down enough to kiss him like that… what did that mean?
I took a deep breath and swung my legs over the side of the bed. I needed answers, but I wasn’t sure if I was ready to face them. If I went downstairs and Skye was there, what would I say? What would he say? Would he laugh it off, or would he be angry? Or worse-would he act like nothing had happened, leaving me to wonder if I’d just imagined the whole thing?
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My heart raced as I considered my options. I could stay in bed, hide for a little while longer, and hope the hangover would dull the sharp edges of my embarrassment. Or I could face the day, face Skye, and find out once and for all what had really happened last night.
After a few moments of internal debate, I sighed and forced myself to stand. Hiding wouldn’t solve anything, and besides, I was too curious-and too invested in Skye-to let this slide.
I grabbed a bottle of water from the nightstand and took a few sips, hoping it would help settle my stomach. Then, I steeled myself and headed for the door, my heart pounding in my
chest.
As I made my way downstairs, I couldn’t help but wonder what awaited me. Would Skye be there, and if he was, would he look at me the same way he had last night? And more importantly, would I be able to resist kissing him again if he did? I reached the bottom of the stairs and took a deep breath, ready to face whatever-or whoever-was waiting for me.
I entered the kitchen, fully expecting to find either Skye or Blade or even one of Blade’s conquests of the night-or maybe no one at all if I was lucky enough to avoid any awkward morning-after encounters. But what I hadn’t anticipated was finding Gran, Skye’s grandmother, bustling around the kitchen like she owned the place.
“Gran?” I blinked in surprise, rubbing my eyes to make sure I wasn’t still dreaming.
“What are you doing here?”
Gran turned around, a warm smile spreading across her face. She was wearing a bright floral apron over her clothes, and her purple-ish hair was pinned up in a tidy bun.
“Good morning, dear! Didn’t mean to startle you.” She waved a hand dismissively as if her presence in the house was the most natural thing in the world.
“Just thought I’d come by and make sure this place isn’t falling apart. Two men living in one house is simply asking for trouble, you know.”
I couldn’t help but smile at that.
“Do you have a key?”
Gran chuckled, opening a cupboard to inspect its contents.
“This is still a small town we’re living in, sweetheart. Keys are more of a suggestion than a necessity. And besides, I’ve been coming by here every now and then to tidy up, make sure these boys don’t turn the house into a pigsty.”
“That’s… really nice of you,” I said, feeling a little out of place but also comforted by Gran’s presence. There was something about her that felt like home, like safety.
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“Do they know you do that?”
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“Oh, they know, all right. Well, Skye does. Blade-well, that boy is a whole other story. He wouldn’t notice if the house was on fire half the time, even when he is a firefighter. But Skye appreciates it, even if he doesn’t say much about it.”
I leaned against the counter, watching Gran move around the kitchen with practiced ease.
“So, you just come by and clean? I guess that explains why the place isn’t a complete
disaster.”
Gran laughed a hearty sound that made me smile wider.
“Exactly! Someone’s got to keep an eye on them. Adam-he’s the oldest of the boys, you know-he knows how to keep a house in order. But clearly, that skill didn’t pass on to the rest of the Miller boys after their parents died. Bless their hearts, they’re good boys, but domestic
skills? Not so much.”
I hesitated for a moment before asking the question that had been nagging at me ever since last night.
“Gran… do you know about Skye’s talent for art?”
Gran paused, her hand hovering over a jar she had just placed on the counter. She turned to me, her expression softening.
“I do, though it’s not something we’ve ever talked much about. Skye’s always been a private boy, kept his feelings close to his chest, especially after his parents passed. Drawing’s always been his way of coping, of processing things.”
I nodded, feeling a pang of empathy for Skye.
“He doesn’t like to show his work to anyone. I asked him about it yesterday, and he just… shut down.”
Gran sighed, nodding as she resumed her tidying.
“That sounds like my Skye. After his parents died, that boy crawled so deep into his shell, we were all worried he’d never come out. He didn’t speak for months, you know. Just kept his nose buried in that sketchbook of his, drawing and drawing as if that was the only way he could make sense of the world.”
“That must have been so hard for him,” I said softly, my heart aching for the boy Skye had
once been-and the man he had become.
“It was,” Gran agreed.
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“But Blade-now there’s a boy who wouldn’t let Skye stay in that dark place for long. He practically dragged him out of it, piece by piece, protecting him from everything and everyone along the way, as a big brother should. They’ve been thick as thieves ever since.”
I smiled, thinking about how fiercely protective Blade was of Skye, even now.
“They are close.”
“Oh, like two peas in a pod, those two. Skye might not say much, but Blade makes up for it with his big mouth.” Gran chuckled again, a twinkle in her eye.
“But that’s just how it’s always been. Skye draws to deal with his feelings, and Blade… well, Blade talks.”
I felt a warmth spread through my chest as I listened to Gran. I could see now why Skye was the way he was-why he kept his art so close, why he was guarded. But it only made me more determined to break through that shell, to see the world as he saw it, through his drawings.
“Gran,” I started hesitantly,
“do you think Skye would ever… I don’t know… share his art with anyone?”
Gran looked at me, her eyes kind but knowing.
“He might, dear. But it would take someone special to make him feel safe enough to do that. Someone who could show him that it’s OK to share his heart, that his art isn’t something to be hidden away.”
My breath caught in my throat. I wondered if Gran saw right through me-saw the way I was starting to feel about Skye.
“I hope so,” I whispered, more to herself than to Gran.
Gran just smiled, that same warm, comforting smile, as she patted my arm.
“So do I, dear. So do I.”
I was still processing everything Gran had just told me, when Gran suddenly clapped her hands together.
“All right, enough of this serious talk. You need to get yourself ready, dear.”
I blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in tone.
“Ready? Ready for what?”
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Gran gave me a mischievous grin.
“For our trip, of course! Didn’t you see the message in the group chat?”
I frowned, completely bewildered.
“Group chat? What group chat?”
Gran waved a hand, already heading toward the door.
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“The Miller family group chat, of course! We’ve been planning a weekend getaway for a while now. Last time I checked, you were very much included.”
I quickly scrambled to my feet, suddenly feeling like I had missed something crucial.
“Wait, what? I don’t remember seeing anything about a trip!”
Gran chuckled as she made her way out of the kitchen.
“Well, that’s because you haven’t checked your phone, have you? Go on, dear, find it, and pack your things. We’re leaving in a couple of hours!”
I hurried after Gran, my mind racing. A trip? With the Millers? I wasn’t sure if I was more excited or nervous at the prospect. When I reached the hallway, I found my bag sitting on the small table where I had probably left it last night while being too drunk to remember. I dug through it, finally pulling out my phone.
Sure enough, there was a group chat labeled “Miller Mayhem,” and as I scrolled through the messages, I saw that they had indeed been planning a weekend getaway. The last message, sent by Blade, was from late last night, confirming the final details, and how I was invited to join them.
Feeling a mix of surprise and amusement, I glanced up at Gran, who was busy humming to herself as she tidied up a few last things.
“I had no idea,” I admitted, a bit breathless.
Gran turned back to me with a wink.
“Well, now you do! And trust me, dear, you’re going to have a wonderful time. It’ll be good for you to get out, and clear your head a bit. And don’t worry, dear. We Millers may be a bit wild, but we know how to have a good time!”
