Chapter Seven #2
“When I left Sleighbell Springs, it wasn’t because of you,” he starts, and already my chest is too tight. “I know it felt like I just…disappeared, and I guess I did. But it wasn’t about not loving you. It was about not knowing who I was. I was scared, May.”
He looks at me, searching for something. Maybe forgiveness. Maybe just a lifeline.
“I was scared that if I stayed, I’d never figure myself out. I’d just keep pretending to be the Miles everyone expected, and I’d drag you down with me. So I ran. It was a dick move, and I’m sorry. I’ve been sorry for a long time.”
There’s a lump in my throat the size of a grapefruit. I look away, try to play it cool, but my hands are shaking where they’re clasped over my knee.
“And what did you figure out,” I ask, forcing my voice to steady, “out there in the big wide world?”
He laughs, but it’s not unkind. “That the problem wasn’t Sleighbell Springs.
Or you. It was me. I thought if I could just…
get out, I’d finally be free. But I was just as lost in Chicago, and Boston, and LA, and Denver, and any of the handful of other places I landed, as I was here.
Maybe even more lost, because I didn’t have you to ground me.
” He nudges my knee with his. “The thing is, I never stopped loving you. Not for one second. But I had to learn how to actually be with you, you know? Not just…coast along and hope for the best. I’m done running, May. I want to do this right.”
The hope in his eyes is so bright it hurts. I want to believe him. God, I want it so much it’s embarrassing.
But I’m not done. Not yet.
“Do you have any idea what that felt like?” I manage, the words tumbling out before I can stop them. “Watching you leave? Waiting for a call that never came? I thought I wasn’t enough. For you, for anyone.”
He reaches for my hand, slow and careful, like he’s half-expecting me to slap it away. “I’m sorry. I can’t ever make that right, but I can promise not to do it again.”
His thumb brushes my knuckles, and it’s almost too much.
“I don’t want you to promise,” I whisper, and wow, look at me, getting all vulnerable and shit. “I want you to prove it.”
He smiles, soft and certain. “Tell me how.”
The air thickens with all the things we never said. I take a breath, staring at the tangled mess of my own hands.
“We get to know each other again,” I say, voice steadier now. “For real this time. No playing house. No pretending the past didn’t happen. We go slow. We do it right. And if you ever feel the urge to run, you talk to me first. Deal?”
He squeezes my hand, and for once, he doesn’t joke. “Deal.”
There’s a beat of silence, warm and sweet. And for the first time, it doesn’t feel like something’s about to snap.
Then he grins. “We can still make out in weird places, though, right? Because I have to tell you, that supply closet was life-changing.”
I bark out a laugh, the tension draining from my shoulders like old champagne. “Miles, darling, if you think I’m giving up my favorite extracurricular activities, you have deeply misunderstood my priorities.”
He leans in, lips brushing my jaw, voice low and teasing. “Just making sure. You know I live for your approval.”
I roll my eyes, but it’s all for show. Inside, I’m so soft for him it’s embarrassing.
“I swear, if you ever use the word ‘approval’ in a sexual context again, I’m docking points from your boyfriend application.”
He hums against my neck, tongue tracing the edge of my jaw. “Is that what this is? An interview?”
I push him back just enough to look him in the eye. “Miles Dalton, you are on the world’s weirdest probation. There are forms. There are evaluations. I may or may not have already started a spreadsheet.”
He laughs, big and loud and real, and I want to bottle that sound. “Typical. Always the overachiever.”
“What can I say?” I preen, flipping an imaginary strand of hair. “Some of us have standards.”
His knuckles brush my cheek, and for a moment, he’s serious again. “I’m going to meet them,” he says quietly. “Exceed them. Blow them clear out of the water this time. Whatever it takes.”
I want to believe him. And maybe, for the first time, I actually do.
“Fine,” I say, trying to sound bored and only half succeeding. “But only because you’re cute and I’m weak.”
His mouth curves in that slow, dangerous way I remember. “You’re not weak. You’re the bravest person I know.”
If I have any backbone left after that, it’s only because I refuse to admit defeat.
He kisses me, slow and thorough, and it feels like coming home. Like the years between us have just…evaporated, leaving only this moment, our hearts beating in time. When he finally pulls back, we’re both breathless.
He grins, a little dazed. “Wow.”
I lick my lips, just to be difficult. “Don’t sound so surprised. I haven’t even gotten to the good part.”
He raises an eyebrow, all challenge. “And what’s that?”
I lean in, teeth grazing his ear. “You’ll have to stick around and find out.”
He shivers. There’s a faint blush creeping up his cheeks, and it’s unfairly adorable.
For a while, we sit tangled together on my too-small couch, letting the world spin on without us. It’s peaceful in a way I’m not used to. Like maybe I don’t have to be on guard with him anymore.
I glance over at him, content and smug, like he’s just solved a really hard math problem. “So,” I ask, because someone has to break the spell, “what now?”
He traces slow circles on my knee with his thumb. “Now we order food, because I’m starving. Then maybe we watch a movie, and you let me spoil you for an hour or two?”
I pretend to consider it, tapping my chin. “You do realize that if you order from anywhere but Reindeer Roadhouse, you’re dead to me, right?”
He looks personally offended. “Obviously, the Roadhouse. Is there even another option in this town?”
“There’s the sad little sushi place that only exists for tourists and masochists.”
He grins, already pulling out his phone. “You, me, Roadhouse burgers, and a terrible Christmas movie. Name a better night.”
He pauses, glancing over at me, softer now. “I’m not going anywhere.”
I believe him.