The Perfect Storm 2

Chapter 135

Miles's POV

I stare at the fucking phone for what feels like twenty minutes. My knees feel weak and my palms are sweating. 

I have no idea how to fucking feel. I haven't seen this man since he left me—since I was fucking seven and now, he's dropping this bombshell on me.

"I have a fifty percent chance of survival, and I want to see you . . . you and Madison just in case I won't make it to see you married and with children." He speaks but I just stand there, staring at the mirror at my bloodshot eyes.

"We're having dinner tomorrow night, why don't you and Madison join us?" He asks through the phone, his voice has now turned softer, more pleading, begging even. 

I clench my jaw, gripping my phone tightly.

"Fine," I say and abruptly end the call.

"Fuck!" I yell before throwing my phone as hard as I can against the wall across from me, smashing my iPhone five into pieces. 

The black details of the phone are smashed everywhere, the screen is more than broken and the phone is beyond repair. My hands are trembling slightly and my eyes are angry. 

I quickly collect myself before clenching my jaw and narrowing my eyes to the floor as I push the bathroom door open only to be greeted by the same waitress that has been serving us throughout the night. 

She stops me, her blue eyes shining into mine as I look at her dully.

"Hi, I, um . . . I was wondering if we could—If you maybe wanted my number—"

"Fuck off." I push past her. She knows I have a girlfriend and if she can't see that it's her own damn fault.

Madison's POV

As I watch the wine in my wine glass swirl around I finally hear the familiar tapping of Miles's old skool vans approaching. At first, Miles wore boots so brown that they could have been black, but now, all he wears are these exact shoes, even the small white strip is clearly painted over—it's painted black, black like everything in his life.

"I, uh . . . I need a new phone." Miles smiles, his lips are stretched into a firm smile that shoes his pearl white teeth.

"What? What happened?" I stammer, trying to analyze his expression for any hidden clues that will tell me what he's hiding. He sticks his tongue out slightly as he looks toward the bar before his eyes meet mine again.

"I already paid for our bill, we can leave." He says simply, and without question, I nod and stand up. His back is now turned to me as we walk outside of the restaurant. 

Barry looks at us and Miles gives him a small wave, his hand up in the air and his car key wrapped around his middle finger. I get one more glare from the waitress before the both of us finally exit the restaurant. 

My heels click behind Miels's flat shoes as we both reach the car and sit down on the comfortable leather chairs. The air is silent and after almost a minute of silence, I feel the air getting thicker with his cologne and my perfume blending into the air, with nothing to clear the heavy air out.

"Miles." I start, unsure where I'm going with the words that are uncontrollably coming out of my lips. He clenches his jaw and grips the steering wheel tightly until they turn almost white. It takes a few seconds but abruptly, his tension goes away and the air feels breathable again, not heavy like minutes ago.

"I—"He stops his raspy tone from continuing. I almost forgot how good it felt to hear his voice.

"What was that phone call about?" I ask, remembering the loud ringing that he left with.

"My, um, my dad, he uh, he has—" Miles stops himself for a second, gathering himself before he finally spits out, "He has cancer," Miles says and my jaw nearly drops but Miles gives me something between a smirk and a smile.

"I know I should, uh . . . I know I should be upset or something, but I'm not. I'm fucking not." He scoffs.

"I know I should care but I . . . I don't think I do. I haven't fucking met the man since II was seven." Miles says and instantly, I can't help but picture a small Miles, needing his father that was never there.

"It's fucking ridiculous, he has a fifty percent chance of living it off, and now he wants to see me, when everything goes wrong that's when he wants to reconnect. But when he wasn't dying, he didn't give a shit, not about me." Miles breathes out harshly. I look at him for a few seconds, unsure of what to say or do, but I finally say, "Miles . . ." I look down at my feet before meeting his dark eyes again.

"If your dad really is this sick, you need to see him," I tell him, knowing it's the last thing he wants me to say, but itðs something he has to hear. He needs to know the consequences that could come if he doesn't visit his dad and if the cancer ends up taking his life. Miles looks down at his hands, smirking.

"Fuck." He breathes before his fingers dig into his dark hair.

"is it bad? Is it bad that . . . that I wish he was fucking dead already?" He asks with a small and exhausted laugh.

"It's not bad," I tell him and he looks into my eyes. We're still parked in front of that restaurant. It feels like it's only been five minutes but with the darkness clouding the sky and rain starting to slowly tap on the windshield, I realize it's been much longer than five minutes. 

Miles looks into my eyes as we both listen to the rain tap harshly against the metal of his car. His eyes shift down to the wheel while I stare outside into the dark blue that is quickly becoming darker.

"Will you come with me?" he asks to my surprise.

"I mean—"

"I'll come with you," I answer before he can correct himself.