Maybe Never (Maybe #2)

BOOK: Maybe Never (Maybe #2)
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Title Page


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Chapter One - Kinsley

Chapter Two - Kinsley--Five Years Earlier

Chapter Three - Killian

Chapter Four - Kinsley

Chapter Five - Kinsley

Chapter Six - Killian

Chapter Seven - Kinsley

Chapter Eight - Kinsley

Chapter Nine - Killian

Chapter Ten - Kinsley

Chapter Eleven - Kinsley

Chapter Twelve - Kinsley

Chapter Thirteen - Killian

Chapter Fourteen - Kinsley

Chapter Fifteen - Kinsley

Chapter Sixteen - Kinsley

Chapter Seventeen - Killian

Chapter Eighteen - Kinsley

Chapter Nineteen - Killian

Chapter Twenty - Kinsley

Chapter Twenty-One - Killian

Chapter Twenty-Two - Kinsley

Chapter Twenty-Three - Killian

Chapter Twenty-Four - Kinsley

Chapter Twenty-Five - Killian

Chapter Twenty-Six - Kinsley

Chapter Twenty-Seven - Killian

Chapter Twenty-Eight - Kinsley

Chapter Twenty-Nine - Kinsley

Chapter Thirty - Killian

Chapter Thirty-One - Kinsley

Chapter Thirty-Two - Killian

Chapter Thirty-Three - Kinsley

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About Ella


Maybe Never

(Maybe #2)

Ella Miles

Copyright © 2016 Ella Miles LLC

All rights reserved.

[email protected]

Editor: Jovana Shirley, Unforeseen Editing,

Cover Designer: © Sarah Hansen, Okay Creations,

This is
a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

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Aligned: Volume 1 and Volume 2
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I pace back and forth in the holding cell, unable to sit patiently like the rest of my cellmates. One woman lies back on one of the benches, seemingly asleep, while another sits across from her, picking the nail polish off her fingers.

Not me though. I can’t sit. Not when I have no idea why I’m here. So, instead, I pace back and forth in the small cell, hoping that, soon, someone will come tell me what the hell is going on. I also have to pee, which is keeping me from sitting down, but I’m not going to go in the toilet in the corner of the room—at least not until I can’t hold it any longer.

I think back to the last time I was here. It was the same jail and the same holding cell with the same disgusting yellow walls. Last time, I was calmer, much calmer, because I had accepted that I deserved to be in prison. I had confessed.

I stop pacing when the woman lying on the bench snores, startling me. I just don’t know why I’m back in jail now.
What did I do?
The agent mentioned something about fraud and money laundering. I didn’t do either of those things. It must be a mistake.

And Killian…

I can barely even let my heart go there. One day—actually, less than a day, more like one hour, was all I got with Killian. It’s all the time I got to think about a possible future with him. I thought I loved him. I thought he was the one for me. I was wrong. Killian isn’t Killian. Killian is a liar. I chose wrong again.

I glance at the clock that is barely visible outside the holding cell. It’s past midnight They won’t question me tonight. I won’t be arraigned tonight. They won’t do anything with me tonight. I’m stuck here, in this cold room, with two strange women.

I take a seat on the only remaining bench in the room and rest my head against the wall. I cross my arms over my chest and rub my hands over them, trying to warm up, but I’m still shivering, despite my efforts. I push the urge to pee along with thoughts of why I’m in here out of my head. I push Killian out of my head until the only thing that remains is last time.

This feels just like last time when I had fallen for a man who wasn’t what he seemed. Then, I fell again for the wrong man. Even though my father and grandfather had handpicked him, they picked wrong. Maybe there isn’t a man out there for me.

I should have learned my lesson the first time. Instead, I’m back in this cell again, and this time, I don’t know when I’ll be getting out.

Kinsley--Five Years Earlier

The bell rings, and I walk from my English class to my locker. I feel the excitement expelling off of the students and teachers all around me, as everyone is happy to be ending another school year. Everyone is excited, except for me.

I walk slowly through the hallway, hoping to get one last glance of the man I love. One last glance of the man whom I will probably never see again. That’s not true. I’ll occasionally see him at family functions that involve close family friends, just like I always have. But it won’t be the same as seeing him every day in the hallway, at lunch, or on the football field every fall.

The man I’m in love with is graduating today and is going to UCLA in the fall while I’ll be stuck here, in Las Vegas, for another year. I could follow him to UCLA in two years, but there’s a high chance that, by then, he’ll already have a girlfriend and have forgotten all about me.

I stop at my locker, pausing for far longer than it takes for me to get my backpack out so that I can look for him. His locker is just across the hallway from mine, but he never comes.

In frustration, I slam my locker door closed and begin the long walk to my car. I continue to walk slowly, hoping to see him if I just stall long enough. I don’t though. I don’t seem him anywhere.

I get to my white Lexus faster than I had hoped. I open the door and slam it in frustration because I didn’t see him. I didn’t get to say good-bye one final time. I don’t get to hear his voice one final time. He didn’t care enough to come find me.

I shake my head as I start up the engine.
Why should he care about coming to see me?
I’m nobody to him. Just a lowly sophomore who has been friends with his family since forever. Just a stupid girl who has a stupid crush on him, just like every other girl in the school whom he doesn’t care about. And he sure as hell doesn’t love me.

I’m tired of being that girl though. The girl who is a goody two-shoes, who gets good grades, and who follows the social hierarchy. I want to go after the bad boy whom everyone wants but is too afraid to go after.

I’m going after the man I love. I’m going after the bad boy. I’m going after Tristan Slade.

I grab the door handle to go find him, but a tap at my window startles me, and I stop short. I turn to see who it is, assuming it is Eli since he asked me out earlier this week, and I have yet to give him an answer. I couldn’t, not when there was still a chance that Tristan might want to date me.

I should say yes though. Eli is a good person, attractive, and smart. My family has known his family for years as well. I should say yes to him.

It’s not Eli at my window though. It’s Tristan. And he has a wicked grin on his face as he flips his long brown hair out of his eyes. I roll down my window as my breath quickens, like it always does every time he comes near me.

I open my mouth to ask what he’s doing here, but no words come out. I feel my face burn in embarrassment.

He just smiles bigger. “You didn’t think I’d leave without telling my favorite girl good-bye, did ya?”

I smile and take a deep breath. “No.”

Tristan leans into the car, giving me a quick hug and peck on the cheek. My body immediately relaxes. That was all I wanted. A chance to feel just for a moment that he cares about me even if he only thinks about me as an annoying little sister.

He pulls his head back out of the window, and I think he’s going to go. I’m surprised his entourage hasn’t found him yet to drag him back to wherever the latest party is. He pauses for a second as he stands outside my car, looking at me.

“You want to go to a party with me tonight?”

I raise my eyebrows at him. He didn’t really say that. He didn’t just ask me out. It must be an illusion. So, I just smile innocently at him and pretend normal words just came out of his mouth instead of the ludicrous words I heard.

He reaches his hand into the car until he’s touching my cheek. “Kinsley, are you okay?”

I swallow down the lump that has made its way up my throat. “Yes.”

“Your cheeks just look even redder than usual.”

He removes his hand from my cheek, and my hand replaces it. My cheek does feel warmer than usual, probably because it liked the way his hand caressed it.

“So, I’ll pick you up at seven then, Kins?”

I nod although I’m not really sure what I’m nodding to. He smiles and winks at me before he walks away, leaving me alone in my car. Leaving me alone to realize that Tristan Slade just asked me out.


I’ve changed a hundred times since I got home from school. I don’t know what to wear. Tristan never said what party we were going to although I can guess. Only a handful of people would be lucky enough to host a party that Tristan Slade would attend. Vanessa, Cade, or Samantha are at the top of my list.

I hear the doorbell ring downstairs, and every nerve in my body ignites with anxiety. It’s just after seven. It’s him. I know it without glancing out the window to see if his black Mustang convertible is here. I know.

I grab my red jacket and slip it on over my white crop top that I’ve paired with a short black skirt and heels. I zip up the jacket so that my father won’t be able to see my bare stomach before I go out.

I haven’t gone out on a date before, and although I’ve modeled similar outfits in magazines, I have no idea how he would respond to me wearing something like this on a date. And I’m not going to press my luck and embarrass myself by having my father force me to change my clothes when he sees a boy is coming to pick me up. Especially a boy like Tristan. Even though my father has known him since we were both toddlers, it doesn’t mean my father likes or trusts him.

I walk down the stairs and find Tristan standing in the entryway, smiling at me. I pause as my heart skips at his smile before I check out the rest of his body. He’s wearing jeans, a dark shirt, and a leather jacket, despite the warm weather outside.

“You look beautiful. You ready to go?”

I hold up a finger, indicating that I need one second. I skip past Tristan to let my father know that I’m going out. I check his office, but he isn’t in there. He never is. I try the kitchen next and find him making himself a peanut butter sandwich—the only thing he knows how to make for himself.

BOOK: Maybe Never (Maybe #2)
6.38Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

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