Georgia’s entire expression softens, and she nods.
I continue. “Spring break, we took my dad’s new Lexus and drove north. It rained the whole way, and we were switching turns driving. In the last leg of the trip, she was mad at me, but I don’t even remember what we were fighting about. I just remember her hands on the wheel, shouting at me to shut up and just listen to her for once. And then there was a curve, and the tires, and…” My voice falters, vision blurring for a second as my mind returns to that night. “I woke up with a broken collarbone. She didn’t wake up at all.”
A gull shrieks somewhere down the dock, a high, ugly sound that pulls me back.
“She was gone before the ambulance got there,” I finish, my voice in the same tone as when I’m in the middle of court. “Afterthat whole thing, I got really good at avoiding risk. At keeping everyone at arm’s length. Made a whole career out of it. I defend people who take risks, but I almost never take my own.”
Georgia closes the distance, then her shoulder brushes my bicep. “Oh my god, Miles.”
“I’m sorry,” I shake my head, “for being a coward about all this.”
She slips her hand over mine, squeezing lightly. “You’re not a coward,” she whispers. “You’re just like all the rest of us…scared.”
I squeeze her hand back, letting the words hang in the air, feeling something in my chest loosen ever so slightly. “You’re too sweet for your own good, Georgia.”
She pokes my arm. “Sometimes.”
Before I can say anything more to convince her, we hear footsteps behind us, and Emmett emerges.
“I’m interrupting as usual,” he says, then gestures vaguely at me. “Or saving you maybe. You have the look of someone who was hit by a train and somehow survived.”
I look at him, then at Georgia, then back to the water. “I’m fine,” I say. “We were just talking. I was telling her about the accident.”
Emmett nods and places his hand on my shoulder. “Oh.” He knows the story and then turns to Georgia. “How are you feeling, baby?”
She nods. “Doing okay.” Her gaze drifts back up to mine. “I feel like I understand a lot better now.”
Emmett settles on the opposite bench, legs spread wide, eyes flicking between us. “You want to hear something funny?” he sighs, his tone the opposite of humorous. “I did almost take the Iceland job.”
Georgia glances at him, furrowing her brow. “You said you didn’t.”
He shrugs, looks down at his bare feet. “Yeah, well, that was a little white lie. I sure as hell considered it last night.” He sips his coffee, then sighs. “The real truth is, I always run. When things get tricky or feelings start to get real, I book a flight. Different city, different bed. It’s a game I started early in my career and never really quit. Until now.” He smiles. “So, congrats to both of you—looks like I’m not the only broken one on board. We’re all a little fucked up.”
I snort, a sound that’s half laugh, half choke. “Is that supposed to make us feel better? Declaring that we’re all screwed in the head?”
“No,” Emmett retorts. “Just less alone, I guess.”
The hatch thuds behind us, and Brody appears, hair still damp from the shower, wearing navy shorts and a faded gray T-shirt. He gives Georgia’s shoulder a squeeze, nods to Emmett, then meets my eyes and holds them.
“Morning,” he says, and it feels like he’s about to start interrogating me.
“We’re having a pity party out here,” Emmett speaks up before I do. “Miles told Georgia about Claire, I told her about how I always run, and clearly, Georgia has some daddyissues right now.”
“That’s not even funny,” I snap at Emmett, who just shoots Georgia a wink that makes her giggle.
I don’t know how he always fucking manages to do that.
Brody huffs and then plops down beside Emmett. “You know what the worst thing Catherine ever said to me was?”
Emmett cocks an eyebrow. “Do I want to know?”
Brody’s jaw clenches, and then he takes a sip of coffee. “Well, she told me I was dead inside.” He rests the cup in his lap. “She said that I’d never be capable of actual intimacy. That no matter how hard I tried, I’d always be alone because I didn’t know howto let anyone in.” He shrugs at the end of it, his gaze focused down on his coffee instead of us.
Georgia lets out a breath. “You know that’s not true, Brody.”
Brody lifts his eyes, meeting hers. “Maybe, but I believed her,” he pauses. “I still do some days.”
I purse my lips. I think about the old Brody, the one that was married to Catherine, the one who got into a lot of fights, stirred up a lot of trouble, and was constantly guarded.
