Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Miles’s phone buzzed with an incoming text, the vibration rumbling against his cheek.
“Hang on, Dad.” He checked the screen, then, doubting his eyes, tapped on the notification.
Meet me at Mac’s?
Miles frowned. Jif had planned to be at some kind of house party tonight.
Why would she text him at ten o’clock? Was it some kind of joke?
The Jif he knew wouldn’t do something like that, but a few weeks in her classroom and one dinner together didn’t make them best friends, and the way she changed personas still bothered him.
The false mask she wore grated, worst of all because he wasn’t quite sure which one was the real version of her.
Besides, changing out of his ratty sweats and back into clothes meant the arduous trek down the hall and twisting his leg into the pants he’d left in a heap on the floor.
These days, putting things away took too much effort, and though he’d always been a tidy person, since the accident, his apartment had turned into a bit of a dump.
Yet, no matter how many times he typed a no, he couldn’t quite bring himself to send it.
Picturing the desolation in Jif’s eyes, the empty expression she’d worn so often those first few visits, his chest twisted.
He wouldn’t be the cause of her disappointment.
Especially when she made him forget how much his leg hurt.
How her hand under his made his chest hitch and adrenaline flood his system in a way he hadn’t experienced since the fire had stolen everything from him.
How her steady warmth seeped into his soul like spring sunshine, the raging inferno of his pain soothed by her gentle presence.
It had been that way since he’d first laid eyes on her, framed in the classroom doorway, hands shaking but devastatingly gorgeous, and fighting with everything in her to find normalcy for herself and her kids.
He hadn’t intended to go back, but she’d asked, with those wide, vulnerable eyes, terrified she’d be scared forever, and he’d said yes.
Then he’d said yes, again. And again, and each time, she’d held her breath until he agreed, then sighed in a relief so profound he could almost convince himself he’d somehow single-handedly made her world right again.
He couldn’t save lives anymore—not right now—but he could fix her pain and fear. Bring light to her life.
And she, in turn, did the same for him. His easiest mornings were the ones where he could end his afternoon in her classroom. Getting out of bed wasn’t a chore, a basic accomplishment so he could care for himself and Nix—instead, it became the first step in a day leading to her.
She pushed back the darkness threatening to overwhelm his soul, and like a moth to a flame, he couldn’t quite resist the lure of her pull, no matter how disquieted her manufactured persona left him.
No, he corrected himself. He believed he knew the real Jif, but he didn’t understand why she wanted to hide it.
“Sorry, a friend texted me.”
“Wes?” His father spoke with an eager brightness.
He loved his best friend like a brother—literally. A replacement for the brother he’d lost in his parents’ divorce, bonded by—well, trauma—but also ties far deeper than blood. He owed his life to Wes. His dad wouldn’t let him forget it.
His dad, a mechanic from the Midwest, never wanted more in life than a steady job, marriage, and a couple of kids, and a predictable weekend routine.
Beer on Friday, poker on Saturday, church on Sunday morning.
The allure of Miles’s job eluded him: the adventure, the adrenaline, the odd hours, and the inconvenient shifts.
He appreciated his son had found a calling, but couldn’t follow where it had led: from a tiny, pass-through town along the historic Route 66 in Illinois to the Siskiyou Mountains in California, then to the coast of South Carolina.
He understood the kind of career-ending injury Miles had sustained even less.
Unable to afford the flight and unwilling to lose the hours so close to retirement, he’d called to check on his son throughout his recovery, but never made it to Charleston, leaving his care largely in the hands of rehab hospitals and Wes.
“Not Wes. A different friend.”
“Ah, a lady.”
Miles’s cheeks heated. “Dad...”
“Say no more, Son. I know where the Old Man ranks when it comes to priorities.” His father’s light tone assured Miles he meant the comment jokingly. “Tell me about her next time you call?”
“I will,” Miles promised, then hung up.
He checked traffic and estimated how long it would take to change, then texted Jif back.
As he hit send, a new energy flooded his limbs.
Maybe she considered him a backup plan. Maybe the party had bored her, and he made an easy distraction.
It didn’t matter. And that should worry him, but somehow, as he hauled himself up the stairs and wrestled his pants back on over the twisted scars of his thigh, it didn’t matter. She was sunlight, and he was hooked.
A quick drive later, Nix paced at his side as he pushed through the door to Mac’s, gaze sweeping the room.
This late, the dinner crowd had wound down to only a few late-night customers.
Too upscale to be a part of the Saturday-night party scene, the mahogany length of the bar held two or three couples sharing drinks and snacks, but otherwise, the subdued atmosphere gave an air of easy elegance, quieter and more intimate than when they’d had dinner last week.
He searched for Jif and, not finding her right away, his chest clenched.
Had she already ghosted him?
Then, Nix pulled hard toward the corner.
He staggered a step or two, barely catching himself as Jif appeared like the palest sunrise.
Dancing an excited greeting, Nix tangled them both in his leash.
Jif laughed as she caught his arm, unthreading Nix and leading them toward a quiet table.
Miles closed his eyes, soaking in the windchime sound.
He was in so much trouble.
And she was in so much pink. It’d be ridiculous if she weren’t so stunning, with her long hair curling over one shoulder, her eyes and lips glistening like dew-kissed roses...
He pulled his head back together with all the focus he’d learned in fire training school.
“Hey.” He winced, the roughness of his voice even less welcoming than usual.
Smiling up at him through her lashes, she licked her lips. “Hi.”
He slid into a chair, then waited a moment while she finally gave Nix the attention he so desperately demanded, shoving his massive face into her thighs and snuffling under the hem of her short skirt in a way that brought a flush of heat to Miles’s cheeks.
“Hey, man, cut it out, Nix.”
Jif held her skirt down with one hand and caressed the dog’s head with the other, then backed away slowly and took her seat.
Two glasses of ice water sat on the table between them, and Miles gulped a swallow, wetting a suddenly dry throat before speaking again.
“How’s it going?”
He winced. Could he be any more cliché?
Jif took a delicate sip of her water, but lines of tension bracketed her eyes.
Miles leaned forward, catching her hand in his. “Are you okay?”
Her lips twitched, and if his eyes hadn’t been drawn, almost against his will, to their carefully painted and glossed outlines, he would have missed it, but she shook her head.
“I’m better now. Thanks for agreeing to meet me. I just...” She paused, her eyes flashing heat before softening again. “I enjoy spending time with you.”
Such a simple, honest admission pulled a reply from him before he even had time to think about it. “I enjoy spending time with you, too. We should do it more often.”
She laughed her low, windchime sound, and arched an eyebrow at him. “More often than three or four times a week?”
Dryly amused rather than flirtatious, her coquette look didn’t even register as he considered her question. His time in the classroom had an expiration date, one they hadn’t discussed yet, but which would arrive soon. Would she still want to spend time with him when he and Nix stopped visiting?
“Okay.” She studied the circles she’d traced in the condensation. Her completely nonchalant, artless response took a moment for him to process.
“Okay?”
Her gaze met his, and he caught the slight rigidity in her shoulders, like putting on armor. “Okay. Let’s see each other more often.”
He swallowed, searching her face, the slight flush in her cheeks, the satin of her dress against her tanned skin, shoulders bared, and a delicate silver chain encircling her neck.
He’d never been the type to lament a woman being out of his league.
Firefighters were real-life heroes, for heaven’s sake.
Attracting women had never been an issue for him.
At least, not until his accident, but then Tessa had dumped him, and there hadn’t been anyone since.
Not that he’d had the time or energy. Not that anyone had given him a chance with his cane and his limp.
Nobody would choose him anymore, despite his dad’s gentle teasing.
Then again, his dad didn’t understand the damage the accident had done.
He’d missed the last six months. Missed the cane, the limp, the pain flashing across Miles’s face with every wrong step, every low-pressure front with sweeping squalls, every chilly evening tightening the muscles until they corded into spasming cramps.
No, Tessa’s departure had forced him to make peace with being alone, at least until he’d healed enough to start his life again, to return to normal, to put this season behind him and hope another like it would never happen again.
But then came Jif. Gorgeous, caring, sunshine Jif, who understood him even through the limitations of his injury.
Who somehow liked spending time with him instead of her football friends.
Earlier, he’d been worried she thought of him as nothing but a distraction, a joke.
Now, he couldn’t quite believe this woman across the table from him would agree to date him.
He squeezed her hand gently, and her eyes flew to his. “Okay.”