“Yeah. It hit hard.” He sits up, sucking in a breath. “The second time was after Alex and I broke up. I knew we were wrong for each other, but it still hurt, ya know?” His voice lowers. “Then the last time was after I left home.”
“For work?”
He nods. “I… didn’t adjust well. I was lonely, and I felt guilty for leaving. Honestly, I think if it wasn’t for my contract, I would have given up within the first year and went home. But meeting Sophie helped.”
I reach for his hand, unsure of what to say. Miles grew up with a much more loving and supportive family than I did, and I can’t help but wonder if that’s what made the difference. Would things have been different for me if my dad actually cared?
“Is it weird that I envy you?”
He whips his head around, surprised.
“What I mean is….” I chew my lip, thinking. “I’m not saying the circumstances lessen what you feel at all, but you had a reason to feel that way, you know? I don’t. My brain just makes me feel like shit for no good reason. Plus, you had support. I didn’t. My dad and my siblings, they didn’t give a fuck. Ever.”
He says nothing for a while, then gestures for me to sit up. When I do, he crawls in behind me, one leg on either side. “I don’t know what to say to that, so I’m going to hold you. Because it’s what I like when I’m sad.”
“I’m not sad, though.”Surprisingly.
“Yeah, well, I’m holding you anyway because depression fucking sucks.”
I laugh quietly and recline back against him with a big smile on my face. It does suck, but it’s been easier to carry since meeting Miles.
Miles kisses me sweetly, one arm around my chest. We watch the setting sun for a long time.
“Romantic enough for you?” I ask.
He hums softly in my ear. “It’s perfect.”
I wish like hell this wasn’t the only date we would get while he was here, but tomorrow we’re having dinner with Declan, and then he goes home. Our time together is quickly disappearing.
If only Miles could stay with me forever. The thought settles around us as I hold him, squeezing a bit tighter.
14
MILES
We get back to Jordan’s motorhome just after nine. The sky is clinging to the last remnants of hazy twilight, making everything look like a dream. This was my favorite part of the day when I lived in Michigan. All those fireflies. My heart sometimes aches for it.
Jordan unlocks the motorhome, then holds the door open for me. Clematis darts out from under the table like she’s been waiting for us all night, then promptly ignores us when she sees me.
I huff. “Jordan, make your cat like me.”
Jordan snickers. “She will.”
His tone suggests it’s inevitable.
Jordan hangs his keys on the hook by the door, then slides out of his shoes. I do the same, then go to the bathroom while Jordan puts the rest of the food away.
When I come back out, the wine is on the counter, along with two stemless wine goblets.
“Did you still want some?” he asks.
“As long as you promise not to make fun of me.”
Jordan tosses me a bottle opener. “Pour me some.”
I uncork the bottle and fill the goblets, taking a sip. “Oh, that’s good,” I say, reading the bottle. It’s a red Cabernet with deep undertones.
“I would hope so. You ordered it.”
