The Perfect Storm 2

Chapter 129

Miles's POV

The memories of Madison having no underwear on places a smirk on my face as I lay next to her and the memories of squeezing Launa's ass makes me want to throw up on the white sheets wrapped around me. 

I glance over at Madison whose hair is scattered all over the white mattress as she sleeps ever so peacefully beside me, having no clue that I'm awake beside her, watching her every quiet move. My head starts to pound violently as I manage to sit up on the bed, not waking up Madison. 

My phone buzzes on the nightstand beside me and I quickly pick the thing up, silencing the sound, and preventing it from waking up the only girl I care about—the only person I care about.

 Having my asshole of a dad call me for a week straight now has almost made me go insane. Having dinner with my supposed dad who has acted more like a total bastard than a father, is not on my list of priorities and yet, he won't fuck off.

Asshole: "We need to talk."

I roll my eyes at the message and just as I'm about to give him an angry reply, his name flashes across the screen in big letters 'ASSHOLE.' I quickly stand up from the bed and hurry into the bathroom, locking myself in quietly and picking up the damn phone call from the man I once thought gave a shit.

"What the fuck could you possibly want?!" I scream into the phone as quietly as I can. The bathroom mirror stares back at me but I avoid eye contact with the bloodshot eyes that are haunting me just as much as I'm haunting them.

"To talk." He says calmly and firmly, in the same manner, that he used to talk to my bitch of a mom. No matter how much she screamed at him for cheating on her that night, breaking everything in sight, I stood there and so did he. 

He watched me, that's all he fucking did, he just watched me. He stood there, in the middle of her screams, and just watched me like the asshole he's always fucking been.

"About what? what the fuck could we possibly need to talk about?!" I yell, this time louder than I realize and I know that Madison probably won't sleep through my yells.

"Your mother . . . she, she and I thought it would be best if we would talk about your new stepmother." He says and I scoff.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me."

"It's important to us, and we would love to meet Madison," David says and I scoff at his audacity to mention my girl's name. He has no right to say her name let alone invite her anywhere.

"It's not important to me," I say and end the damn call, turning my phone off before he can think about reaching me again. 

I look into the mirror before punching my reflection as hard as I can. I let cold water run over my bloody knuckles, cleansing the blood and watching as it washes the sink with red, making its way into the drain.

"Miles?" I hear Madison's soft voice call as I step outside of the bathroom. Madison is looking right at me as she's sitting on the bed with her hands tightly around the white sheets that are clinging to her body. Her back is pressed against the bed frame as her eyes softly check on mine, making sure everything is okay, but it's not.

"Who were you, um, who were you talking to?" She says through her dry throat. I pour her a cup of water, trying to hide my knuckles but as soon as I approach closer, her eyes go wide. I try to silence her by speaking before she can, "It wasn't Launa," I say, letting her worries float away, the thought of it being Launa makes me want to punch another mirror.

"It was my, uh, my . . . my dad," I say, the word forcing itself out of my mouth. The last thing I want to call that asshole is 'dad.' She takes a sip of the water before wrapping her thin fingers around the cup.

"What, um, what did he say?" she asks and I shake my head as I approach her even closer, letting my bare feet hit the black fluffy carpet around the bed. Light shines through the closed blinds which makes my hangover feel worse.

"Nothing important." I smile.

"Miles." She presses and now her eyes dart to my knuckles.

"What happened to your hand?" She asks before her head leans sideways and she takes a look at the bathroom, the bathroom that is shattered with glass and bloodstains on the sink.

"He, uh, wants to see me, and you."

"And he has a fucking girlfriend now." I smile sarcastically.

"Do you want to go?" She asks and I shake my head.

"Fuck no."

Madison's POV

I stand up, feeling the soft rug underneath my feet as I drop the sheets onto the bed and walk towards Miles in his long and loose t-shirt. 

I take a look at his bloody hand, it's not as ripped up as I thought but I still peek inside a drawer for a first aid kit. I get a few bandages and as soon as Miles sits down on the bed with me, I put them on, carefully placing each of the four on his knuckles.

"Ironic that the only band-aids they have are fucking barbie bandaids." Miles smiles and I chuckle as we look into each others eyes. 

His eyes are a dark hazel and I can see that there are a lot of worries behind them.

"What did your dad really say?" I press. 

He clenches his jaw and I run my fingers over his sharp jawline. He looks down at the bed before parting his lips.

"He has a new girlfriend." He says, his eyes slowly shifting up to look at mine.

"And he wants us to meet her." He scoffs and I hold his hand tightly.

"Maybe it wouldn't be so bad?"

"You know . . . giving him another chance?" I try, looking into his now soft eyes. Miles's father is clearly trying to begin his new life and he wants Miles in It and that's more than my father could ever have done.

"He doesn't deserve it not being bad. He fucking left us." Miles bursts and I look down at my fingers, the same ones that are intertwined with his, keeping him from exploding again. I stare at the pink band-aids on his knuckles before looking up at him.

"I don't fucking know him anymore, he's nowhere close to being my dad, the minute he stepped out of that door . . . the minute he stepped out was when he stopped being my dad," Miles explains and I can offer him nothing but the warmness from my fingers around his.

"That day he became the asshole that left us . . . that left me. He's been nothing more than that since and that's all he'll ever be." Miles explains through his tough and raspy tone and I can tell he's trying to hold back from another outburst. His knuckles are tainted with scars, blood, and band-aids that will never be able to fix the hurt inside him.