“Why’d you sleep on the couch?” Jake asks around a mouthful of cereal.
“Why are you sitting in the cozy chair with a bowl full of milk about to spill?” I push myself up to sitting and rub the sleep from my eyes. Sure that I’m sporting a stellar smudge of mascara, I pull the collar of my shirt up and swipe underneath. Lord, I feel like I got hit with a freight train.
I check the time on my phone and see there’s nothing from Miles. Not a message. Not a missed call. Nothing. What I do seeis that my alarm didn’t go off, and if I don’t get my ass in gear, I’m going to be late for work.
“When you’re done, make sure you rinse out your bowl and put it in the dishwasher.”
I drag myself upstairs, tying my hair back as I go, and take a quick shower. It helps but not nearly enough. After a swipe of makeup with sound appreciation for the fact that curly hair can make for the cutest updo without a whole lot of effort, I dress casual and comfy. Perfect for a Friday and an end-of-section review day at school.
“Did you feed the dog?” I ask as I hop off the stairs and round the corner.
Jake is standing at the back door, dressed for school, his backpack on the kitchen table and a cup of coffee ready for me in my favorite to-go cup. “Yep. And he pooped.”
Bronson proudly trots back in and goes straight to the end of the couch, where he spends the bulk of his day while we’re gone.
“Thanks.”
I’m in awe. Jake is such a different kid from the one who fought the move down here. Not different so much as better. Back to the one I knew was in there.
“I didn’t know what you wanted for breakfast, so I just made you coffee,” he says, his brows lowered in concern. “Does it taste right?”
Expecting a foul version of coffee, I gingerly take a sip. And another. I’m nothing short of pleasantly surprised. “It’s perfect. When did you learn to make coffee?” I ask, pulling a protein bar from the pantry and dropping it in my bag for later.
“Miles showed me. He said it was part of the rules of manliness—to know how to make a good cup of coffee.” Without another word, Jake checks the lock on the back door and throws his backpack over his shoulder.
And when he walks to the door, holding it open for me to pass through first, I have to admit, I. Am. Shook.
Bits and pieces of this elusive list have been discussed in my presence, but I’m sure I don’t know nearly enough about it.
We climb into the car, and I set off to drop Jake off at school.
On the way to Cox High, I call Miles. His voice mail picks up immediately. “Hey, I crashed on the couch last night. Hope I didn’t miss you. I kind of thought you were coming straight over from the airport. I’m pulling into school, so I’ll talk to you later.” I hesitate, catching myself beforelove youtrips off my tongue. “Bye.”
Maybe I should be shocked by the realization that the thought was so natural. That the feeling of loving Miles doesn’t scare me the way I thought it would. I didn’t expect it to happen again. I thought Dallas was my one and only, that love like that didn’t happen twice in a lifetime. Once was a privilege. Twice is a damn gift.
Each time I text Miles,my phone shows the message as Sent, never switching to Read or even Delivered. I’m sure he’s drained after from whatever dragged him to California. He was dreading the trip.
To get out faster at the end of the day, I have my last class flip chairs and clean the whiteboards, so we can all bolt for freedom together when the bell rings. I should have taken my time. The line of cars waiting to get out of the school parking lot is ridiculous.
Music blares, and brakes squeal as more than one car has to stop short because somebody wasn’t paying attention the way they needed to. I should probably be scared, surrounded bynew drivers who are more eager to leave school and start their weekend than usual. The semester is winding down, and the sun is shining. It’s a perfect day to be young and dumb.
Except it’s not. Worry niggles at the back of my brain. I just don’t understand where Miles is. If his flight had been delayed, he would’ve called. Even if he had gotten tied up in a meeting, he would’ve sent a quick message. This complete and utter lack of anything isn’t like him.
I bypass the turn for Jake’s school and go straight to Miles’s apartment. Both of his trucks are there, but as I park next to Maggie, I realize I’ve never been here with him. I’ve come to the parking lot to swap one truck for the other, but I don’t have any idea which apartment is his.
When my call is pushed straight to voice mail again, I hesitate for only a heartbeat and call Erin.
“Hey, you,” she trills, drawing each word out like she’s expecting some juicy news.
I hope she’s got some news instead. “Erin, have you seen Miles today? He messaged me yesterday that he’d be home last night, and I can’t seem to get ahold of him.” I chew on my thumbnail while watching the open stairwell closest to where his trucks are parked. Inwardly, I shudder, knowing I sound like a clingy, insecure girlfriend.Is that what I am?My stomach rolls at the thought that I’ve misread what we have. I don’tthinkI have.
“He called before his flight left yesterday and debriefed me. But I don’t expect to see him in the office until next week. He told me he had something to take care of. I kind of assumed…” Her sentence trails off, but I think I know where she was headed because I’m pretty sure I assumed the same thing. “Don’t worry, Chloe. He probably crashed hard from the adrenaline dump. They do that,” she adds.
And I do know that. It was frustrating and hard as hell to deal with it when Dallas did that. And trying to explain to a toddler, who was equal parts excited and scared about his daddy being home… I don’t even want to think about it.
“Yeah, you’re right,” I mumble. A shift in the blinds on a second-story window draws my attention, but the movement is so quick, so slight, that I’m not convinced I actually saw it. “His phone is just going straight to voice mail, not ringing at all.”
Silence can sometimes be deafening, and Erin’s is screaming into the void.
