The Best Next Thing - Natasha Anders Page 0,120

after bombarding the vet with after care questions, they finally left. Charity watched as he murmured sweet, reassuring, little nothings to a sleepy Stormy…entirely focused on his dog, but still concerned enough about Charity to constantly check over his shoulder if she was following.

She had once believed that Blaine would be the literal death of her. But this complicated, sweet, caring man…he was the one who was going to end her. And the longer she stayed here with him like this, the worse it was going to be. She had to leave.

Soon.

Because if she didn’t, she wouldn’t have a beating heart left in her chest when she returned home to her family. Miles would have stolen it from her completely.

The drive back to the house was as silent as it had been in to town…but when he parked the car in the basement garage, she broke the silence before he could unbuckle his seatbelt.

“I’m leaving.”

His head swiveled, and his intense eyes honed in on her face.

“What do you mean?”

“On Saturday. I think that’ll give me enough time to say my goodbyes and arrange to ship the bulk of my things to my parents. I’ll leave you the shortlist of names and résumés for my replacement. If you don’t want to do it, I’m sure Lia will be happy to help. She knows a few of the ladies on the list and can give you some sound advice on who would be best for the job.”

“But…what about us?”

“Miles. This is for the best. Before we get too attached.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” His voice rose, and Stormy whimpered, startled out of a sound sleep. “Christ, Charity, I’m already attached. And I know you are as well. Why are you cheating us out of the last bit of time we could have together?”

She swiped at a few errant tears, refusing to make this worse by crying. But it was so hard when he looked so unreservedly distraught. Like his whole world was imploding.

“I’m sorry, Miles. I thought I could do this. But I can’t. I can’t do the long, lingering goodbye thing. I wish…” She shook her head. Nothing she said now could make this hurt less, for either of them. “I’m sorry.”

She pushed open the door and trudged toward the staircase. She heard the driver’s door open and shut, and his feet pounding on the polished concrete floor as he ran to catch up with her. Which he did…cutting off her route to the stairs with the bulk of his body.

“You can’t do this,” he growled, his teeth clenched, and his entire body bristling.

“Miles, please, don’t make this more difficult than it has to be.”

“Can you at least fucking tell me why?”

“Why? Because you make me feel too much. Because I have to have something of myself left when I leave here…and if I stay here much longer I won’t. It’ll all belong to you. And I’ll be no good to anyone then.”

“Goddamnit, Charity, you’re not the only one who—” His hand sliced through the air, a sudden, vicious movement that came out of nowhere, and Charity flinched reflexively, covering her head with her arms.

It was an instinctive reaction, made in response to the movement and not the man. And she uncurled from her protective huddle within seconds. Feeling sheepish for the overreaction to what she had always known was just an angry gesture, she lifted her eyes, her immediate instinct to apologize to Miles. But he was staring at her fixedly, his throat working, his eyes wide, his skin deathly pale.

He looked wrecked and wretched. “I wasn’t going to…I would never…”

That he felt the need to explain broke her heart. As if she would ever believe he would hurt her.

As if he could.

“No, Miles. Of course, you wouldn’t. I’m sorry. It wasn’t you. I just reacted to the sudden movement.”

“I wouldn’t hurt you.” He looked dazed, hurt, shocked.

“I know.” She took his hand and squeezed it, wanting to reassure him. “Miles. I know that. Okay? This is not a you thing. This is very much a me thing. And one of the countless things I have to fix about myself. I mean, we can’t even have a decent argument without me flaking out on you. That’s not normal, Miles, and it’s on the long list of reasons this has to end. Sooner rather than later.”

He didn’t respond. His eyes still had that harrowing, hollow look in them, and Charity wasn’t sure if anything she said now could improve the

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