Miles clearly hadn’t shaved on the trip. Avery grew goosebumps thinking about that thick, bristly stubble brushing her skin. Her eyes stopped on the cut on his cheek, held together with muddy butterfly bandages. She gasped and ran her finger over the sticky canvas.
“What happened? Are you okay?” she asked, not leaving his gaze long enough to give the injury thorough inspection.
“I’m fine. I fell out of the canoe, and Nate went a little overboard with the bandages. Come here,” he said and led her to a lounge chair. “Can we talk before I forget everything I need to say and lose my courage?”
Avery nodded and sat at the end of a chaise lounge. Miles sat opposite her, on the neighboring chaise, their legs tangled together. He picked up both her hands, and her breath hitched.
“Miles,” she said, unable to help herself. “I told you how I felt at the worst possible time, and I’ve been kicking myself ever since. It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way.”
“Stop.” He ran his thumb over her knuckles and shook his head. “Please don’t apologize. I spent ten long years yearning to hear you say that again. Yearning should be a circle of Hell, by the way.”
He let out a ragged laugh and shook his head.
“I’m sorry I didn’t handle that night better.” His gaze lifted to her,his warm eyes reinforcing his sincerity. “It’s kind of hard to admit, but the deep feelings I have for you frighten me. After I lost mom, I convinced myself I’m destined to lose the people I love most. It’s irrational, but it feels so real.”
He broke their stare and glanced at the sunset. His brow furrowed in the golden glow. She rubbed his knuckles and reminded herself vulnerability didn’t come naturally to him. She needed to listen.
“That summer when I broke us apart, that day in the parking lot, I had a panic attack.” He sighed and dropped one of her hands to rub his stubble. “I’d had a couple before then but back then, I didn’t know what they were. They went away for a while, then resurfaced when I sold CashCache, and I’m beginning to see a pattern. I think they happen when my dreams seem possible, or maybe it’s when the future seems uncertain. I had one before the gala.”
“And the day we walked Lennox?”
He nodded and closed his eyes.
Avery gulped back a tear and shook her head, focusing on a knothole on a dock plank. When Anna Catherine and Lily had talked about Miles’s panic attacks, Avery hadn’t considered that herI love yousent him spiraling.
“Miles.” She let out a tiny gasp. “I’m so sorry.”
“Pepper.” He lifted her chin and brushed his thumb across her jaw. “You have nothing to be sorry about. This isn’t anyone’s fault. I had them before I left for college too. I haven’t told you because I thought I’d get a handle on it. And asking you to put up with all that felt like too big of an ask.”
“It’s not.” Avery never wanted him to isolate himself, alone with his darkest fears. The best she could do was hold his hand as he walked through it. “Let me be there beside you. We’ll lean on each other.”
She reached up, cupped the back of his neck, and waited for his gorgeous black eyelashes to lift so his eyes could meet hers.
“Miles, your openness makes me love you even more.” Avery dropped her hand to the spot he often rubbed on his chest. His heart beat steadily below her palm.
“Tell me when you have one,” she said. “I’ll help you through it. But you need to communicate. Let me know what helps, okay?”
He nodded.
“You’re so brave.” She squeezed his hand.
“I don’t feel very brave.” Miles winced.
“But you are.” Avery squeezed his shaking hand. “You’ve carried an enormous burden by yourself for a long time. But you aren’t alone. Rely on your village. Me, Nate, Lily, Hayes and Anna Catherine, your dad. We love you and would do anything for you. I’ll walk beside you and hold your hand in the darkness. And if you need someone to protect your need for time and space, I’ll step between you and the world and ask the world to wait, if that helps.”
“Thank you for all of that. I already told the guys. And I’ve had a couple therapy appointments this week. That’s why I’m late getting back today. I did a session by Zoom in the parking lot of the Portland Jetport. My therapist has some ideas she thinks might help,” he said with a tinge of hope. “I’m going to take a mindfulness class. And maybe adopt a dog.”
“A dog?” Avery wondered if she’d misheard him. “But you hate Casper.”
Miles rolled his eyes.
“I don’t hate Casper, and my dog will be different,” he said. “Studies show pets ease anxiety. She thinks a dog might teach me about unconditional love. The responsibility of owning a dog means you can’t run away from a problem. I do that, you know?”
“Do I know?” They both laughed.
“I’m glad we can use humor to help us through this,” he said. “Anyway, I put in an application for Tabasco. I might train her to be a therapy dog for the camp.”
“I love that idea.”
