Chapter 13
JJ
Some may have my head for mixing the sauce with the pasta in the pan, but I swear it tastes better this way. Gives the noodles time to soak up the flavor. I find bowls and forks after opening a few cabinets and leave them on the counter while I check on Miles.
He’s lying in bed, eyes closed, breathing slowly and evenly. I step into the room, and his eyes pop open.
He smiles sweetly, his lips turning up just slightly.
“Is the food done?” he asks, his voice raspy.
Something about this moment hits me hard, right in the chest. I’m just trying to be nice, to help him out because he feels like shit, but it feels like more. Domestic, even—and I don’t hate that.
“Just about. Do you want to eat in here?”
Shaking his head, he pushes himself up to sit. “Couch.”
He puts his feet on the ground and stands up, wobbling slightly. I reach for his arm to hold him steady.
“Are you sure this is just a hangover?” I ask.
“Definitely,” he says with a firm nod. “I drank… so much.” He shudders, a look of disgust on his face. I remember those days. I’ve had plenty of them.
“Did you have fun at least?” I ask.
He glances at me, smirking. “From what I can remember, yes.”
Miles gets to the couch and sits down, reaching for the blanket that’s hanging over the back on the other end, just out of reach. I grab it, unfold it, and drape it over him. He smiles gratefully at me.
“Do you want the remote?” I ask.
His gaze goes to it on the coffee table, also out of his reach.
“Please.”
I give it to him and hear the TV turn on as I go back to the kitchen to put food in the bowls. I bring them, napkins, and the bottles of Gatorade I picked up from the store into the living room and set everything up on the coffee table.
“You really don’t have to feed me,” he says as I pick up one bowl, leaving the other.
“But you were so good.”
He holds my gaze, and I swear heat flashes through his blue eyes. I twirl the fork to gather some fettuccine and bring it to his mouth. He opens it, his full lips wrapping around the fork and taking the bite.
He moans, his eyes falling closed.
“Wow,” he says, covering his mouth with his hand as he chews. “Wow, this is so good. How did you do this?”
I shrug, getting another bite ready for him. “I like to cook when I have time. And… when someone appreciates it.”
“Do you cook at the firehouse?” he asks.
I give him another bite, and he chews as he waits for a response.
“Not usually, but sometimes. Mostly the rookies do. It’s usually quick stuff, though. You never know when the alarm will go off, so you have to stop whatever you’re making right then and there. Sucks sometimes when the food gets ruined.”
“That must be hard.”
“Hard isn’t the right word. Inconvenient, I guess, but it’s all part of the job.
Seconds matter once the alarm goes off, so turning a knob for the burner or pressing the button to shut the oven off may be all the time we get.
Not all of us get called out together all the time, so sometimes someone else can take over. We make it work. We’re a team.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t know how you do it.”
“Well, I don’t know how you do what you do,” I say, giving him another bite. “Dealing with kids all day? Especially so young? Not for me.”
He smiles, his features brightening as if he’s thinking of what he does. The happiness is written on his face.
“Some days are difficult. Kids can be a lot, but they’re fun. Adorable. They say really weird things sometimes. It’s entertaining. Besides… you were really good with Noah. Thank you again for that.”
He opens his mouth, and I smile as I give him another bite. God, he’s adorable.
“I like kids, I just wouldn’t want to deal with them in that capacity.”
“Teaching?”
“More than one at a time.”
He laughs, the sound loud but sweet.
“So, I take it you don’t have kids? I assumed, but…”
“No kids.”
Miles reaches out his hand, gesturing to the bowl. “I’ll feed myself so you can eat.”
I don’t argue. I give him the bowl and pick up mine.
“Red or blue?” I ask, gesturing to the Gatorade.
“Definitely red.”
I hand him the bottle, then take a bite. I’d already tasted it, so I know it’s one of my best. This is one of my favorite meals—simple enough to make, too.
“Have you ever thought about having kids?” I ask, unsure how this conversation turned so serious and even more confused about why it doesn’t feel serious at the same time. It feels like a normal conversation you have with someone. Maybe it is. I’m not social enough to know.
“Yeah, I’ve thought about it. But then Noah came along and I kind of stepped in as his father-figure.”
“Where is his real father?” I ask.
“Took off. Wanted nothing to do with a kid.”
“Shitty.”
“Yeah,” Miles agrees. “But part of me can’t help but be grateful for it. Noah and I wouldn’t be so close otherwise. Audrey and me, either. Is that selfish?”
“No, Miles,” I say. “That’s not selfish at all. You love your family and want to be part of it. That’s normal.”
It falls quiet as we eat, the silverware clinking against the porcelain bowls.
“I do want kids of my own one day, though. A partner, too. It feels weird thinking about it now that my life has fallen into a routine with Noah and Audrey, but I definitely want that for myself. Something that’s mine, not just something I’m helping with.”
“Something permanent.”
“Exactly.” He gives me this odd look, like he’s surprised I know what he means.
I nod. “I understand that completely.” And before the conversation turns too serious, I say, “I noticed you cleaned out the entryway.”
He huffs a laugh, and I can’t tell if he picked up on my sudden need to change the subject.
“Yeah, well, some firefighter told me it was a fire hazard, so I thought it was important.”
“It is important. Thank you for listening. Some people don’t until it’s too late.” Great, now I’m getting morbid. “So, are we watching a movie?”
“Oh, yeah. Uh… what kind of movie do you want to watch?” Miles picks up the remote and clicks on a streaming app.
“Anything is fine,” I say. “I’m not picky.”
“Comedy, action, horror? Something in between?”
“Nothing with death or gore,” I say, unable to meet his gaze. I feel him watching me though, and I feel the way the air changed just slightly.
“Have you seen any of the Conjuring movies?” he asks.
“Never heard of it.”
“They’re scary, like with demons and ghosts. Based on real events.” He sneaks a glance at me. “Unless you’d rather a comedy?”
“Scary is fine. But…” I take my last bite, putting my bowl on the table and wiping my mouth with the paper napkin. “If you wanted a reason to cuddle, you could have just said it.”
“Who said I want to cuddle?” He presses his foot against my thigh, pushing me a little. “In fact, you should probably go sit on the other end of the couch.”
I raise a brow. “Is that so?”
“Yeah. I hate cuddling.” He makes a disgusted face.
I grin. “You’re a fucking liar.”
He laughs again, my chest warming at the sound.
I take his empty bowl, put it on the coffee table, and lean into his space, taking his chin between my fingers and kissing him gently.
I said I wasn’t doing this, but I really can’t help it. I want Miles. It’s that simple.
“Is that really what you want?” I whisper.
“No,” he says softly. “Not at all.”
I kiss him once more, and I couldn’t tell you why it feels so easy or why I’m doing it at all.
This isn’t what this is supposed to be. The lines are blurred.
I tell myself one thing but do another, without any thought.
And I know I’ll regret it all later, when I’m alone and remembering the fact that I’m married.
But it’s so easy to lose myself with Miles.
“Switch spots with me,” I say.
Narrowing his eyes, he scoots over when I get up so I can sit on the end of the couch. He starts the movie, and I raise my arm so he can lean against my side.
“Get comfortable,” I tell him.
“I’m definitely comfortable.” He yawns. “I’m sorry if I fall asleep.”
“Don’t be sorry. You need it.”
We’re twenty minutes into the movie before he’s snoring softly. I shift and he wakes up.
“Lie down,” I say. He scoots down, resting his head on my thigh, and I run my fingers through his soft blond hair as I watch the movie. It’s seconds before he’s snoring again.
I brush the backs of my fingers over his smooth cheek. It’s a little flush, slightly warm.
He really must have drank a lot if he’s feeling this bad, days later.
The movie ends, and the screen goes black. I sit in the dark room, listening to Miles snore quietly and feeling his soft hair through my fingers until eventually, I fall asleep too.