Last night was perfect—achingly, impossibly perfect. Now I’m moments away from ruining it because I can’t let go. Because the past still has its claws in me. Because even after everything Miles gave me—patience, tenderness, safety—I am terrified of breaking something good. Terrified of breaking him.
And I hate it—all of it. I don’t want to still be haunted. I loathe that this is who I am.
What I want is Miles.
Maybe I don’t deserve him—but God, I’ve come toneedhim. After last night… after feeling his hands, his mouth, his body against mine… I can’t go back to the version of myself who didn’t know what that felt like.
My teeth chatter as I rise from the cold tile. I grab my toothbrush with shaking fingers, load it with far too much toothpaste, and scrub until the sour taste leaves my tongue. My face is a blotchy, washed-out mess when I splash water over my cheeks and gently pat my eyes dry. It helps, but only a little. Maybe Miles won’t notice. Or maybe I’m foolish for hoping.
And though he’s now intimately familiar with every inch of my naked body, I wrap a towel around myself like flimsy armor before stepping back into the bedroom.
He’s sitting up against the headboard, the quilt pooled around his waist, his hair a tousled halo. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah,” I lie quickly, shaking my head and pressing a hand to my stomach. “Something I ate must not have sat well with me.”
I move to the dresser and grab fresh underwear, a bra, and soft sweatpants. The oversized sweatshirt he peeled off me last night lies on the floor. I scoop it up and tug it over my head, hoping he can’t see how rattled I am.
“I can’t say I approve of this,” Miles teases, eyes warm and mischievous. “I much prefer fewer clothes.”
“Yeah, well…” I climb into bed and burrow under the blankets. “It’s freezing.”
He tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear and looks at me with a tenderness so intense it almost hurts. “I know a way we can warm up.”
I pat his hand away. “Down, boy.”
He laughs, soft and easy. “Alright, fine. Snuggle?”
I scoot closer. His arm wraps around my back and pulls me against the heat of him. He drapes the mountain of blankets over us both.
“A snuggle,” I murmur, “I can do.”
A beat of silence passes. Then his voice dips, gentle but searching. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah, I’m great.” I try to sound chipper, but the effort falls flat.
“Last night wasn’t too much? I didn’t cross a line?”
Guilt punches me in the chest. I hate that my panic is making him second-guess himself. “Absolutely not.” I cup his cheeks, forcing him to see the truth in my eyes. “Last night was perfect. Beyond perfect.”
“Yeah?” he asks softly.
“Yeah.” I lean in and kiss the sharp line of his jaw. “It was truly amazing, Miles. Seriously.”
“Okay.” Relief threads through his voice, but worry still lingers at the edges.
“So,” I pivot, needing the subject change like oxygen, “do you think we’ll get power today?”
He shrugs. “Not sure. Would it really be so bad if we didn’t?”
“Yes,” I scoff. “It’s freezing.”
His hand slips beneath my sweatshirt, fingers tracing slow lines along my waist. “I think we’re doing pretty well.”
“We need to take showers,” I counter.
He dips his face into the crook of my neck and nuzzles my skin, placing featherlight kisses that make my breath catch. “I think you smell delicious.”
“We need to eat.”
