Piper follows me into the kitchen, sliding her bag onto the counter before folding her sunglasses and slipping them inside. She eyes me cautiously, like I’m a broken appliance she’s deciding whether or not to fix. “You okay?”
I still don’t reply, so she comes closer.
“Okay. On a scale from ‘just moody’ to ‘I need to drag you back to therapy,’ where are we?”
Piper won’t let up, so I give her a vague answer. “Somewhere between lizard-on-the-porch and blackout-level existential dread.”
The corner of her lip hitches, but the concern never leaves her. “That bad, huh?”
I dump a formed piece of dough into a greased pan.
At my silence, she reaches for the nearest box of dry ingredients to sort them. “Have you not heard from your guy or something?”
I lift my gaze to glare at her. Piper has been trying to weasel information out of me all week about Miles, but I haven’t been ready to talk about him yet.
“What? I’m just wondering! I figured if you hadn’t, it would explain the mood.”
I groan. “I’m fine, Piper. It’s not about him.”
“Okay.” She sifts through more of the freight, still watching me. “Well, even if that’s true, I can tell something’s off, so I’m going to work here with you so you know you aren’t alone.”
Much to my annoyance, Piper’s presence does help—if only to keep my attention on her and not Charlie or Miles. We finish the morning prep in record time, then dump the soups into the stockpot to warm up for our opening customers. Afterwards, she heads to the office to talk to Declan while I step out back to smoke.
I kick a rock, wishing I didn’t feel so off. Charlie’s unexpected presence this morning hadn’t just thrown me into the deep end, it’d tossed me into the middle of the fucking ocean. I’m adrift in a way I haven’t been in a long time.
I search for anchors, and instantly, last night comes to mind. Miles’ face, his body… the sounds he made as he pleasured himself. It doesn’t exactly help, doesn’t ground me. It just makes me ache all over again.
I want more, and I’m too scared to go to him. What if it goes wrong?
What if I get there and Miles doesn’t want me anymore? What if we don’t work? I’d not only be heartbroken, but I’d be too devastated to find my way back. I know that in my gut. I’d be lost again, worse than before.
Charlie floats back to me, out of the blue. I pull my phone out, re-reading the lines a dozen times. As I’m staring at it, a message comes through from Miles.
Miles:Morning… er, afternoon, I guess. Slept hard after last night. ;)
The knot in my chest loosens, and I catch myself grinning for the first time all day.
Me:I’ve been up since 7.
He replies with a shocked-eyed emoji.
Me:Tell me about it.
Miles:Was it a good wake up or bad one?
Subtext: should I be worried?
I grit my teeth. I hate that my depression makes people worry about me, yet his concern is sweet. A softness I need right now. I miss Miles, as stupid as that is.
Me:I don’t know yet, tbh.
Miles:Can I help?
Ah, to hell with it. I send him the picture.
Me:My fucking muse gave me cryptic lines. First time in two years that he’s spoken to me, Miles. Don’t ask what they mean, because I don’t know. I don’t think it’s related to the story. I want to chuck him off a cliff.
I take a few more drags, waiting for a reply. When he doesn’t send one, I shove my phone away and get back to work.
