Chapter 10
Dax
W hen I heard the commotion outside, the last thing I expected was to come out and find Miles hunched down in the bushes, where he clearly fell through the porch railing.
His breaths come out in short, sharp pants between moments when he’s trying to suck in air but can’t seem to pull enough into his lungs.
He looks up at me, this panicked expression on his face, a painful mixture of embarrassment, stress, and fear, and…
my heart breaks for him. It aches in my chest, feeling like the damn thing is falling apart for this man I used to believe was the biggest asshole on the planet but instead might be the most misunderstood person I’ve ever met.
“Go inside,” I tell everyone, kneeling beside him. “Andy, can you bring out a bottle of water?”
As everyone goes inside, I reach for Miles, but he jerks back.
“It’s okay. It’s just me.” It’s just me? Why the fuck did I say that? He can tell who I am. Plus, I’m not sure if it being me will make him feel any better. “I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to,” I add, hoping that helps.
This time, when I reach out again, Miles doesn’t stop me. He looks up at me with wide eyes, his pupils nearly taking over his light-blue irises, as I rub circles on his back. “Just breathe slowly, like this.”
I pull a breath into my lungs and let it out my nose, nice and steady.
I hear a sound behind me—I assume it’s Andy leaving the water—but I don’t give him my attention, focusing on Miles, showing him how to breathe and rubbing his back, hoping I’m doing the right thing.
I’ve studied this in school, and I remember what it feels like from the inside, but I’ve never been in a situation where I had to help someone else.
“That’s it,” I tell him as he tries to take deeper breaths. “Do me a favor, I want you to focus on what’s around us…feel the dirt beneath your fingers.” I use my free hand to grab a handful, letting it slide through my fingers, and hope Miles does the same.
He surprises me by listening.
“There you go, and what about the leaves on the trees over there. See how some of them are already turning orange? Watch how they move with the wind.”
Miles looks up, his whole fucking body shaking, and all I want is to pull him close, hold him to me, soothe him in this way I never expected to feel about Miles Tanner.
I want to help him. I want him to feel like everything will be okay.
I struggle to remember what I’ve learned, how to help, what I used to need myself, and move on to the next sense, giving him something else to focus on, because if he can lose himself in our surroundings, maybe it’ll help calm down what’s going on inside him.
“What do you smell?” I pull in another deep breath of my own, the scent of the earthy, floral bushes in front of us. He breathes in again, watching me, staring at me in that intense way he does. “Do you smell the floral undertones?” I ask, and try not to frown when he shakes his head. “No?”
“Sweat,” he says, still slightly breathless. “Musk…and something…citrusy and spicy.” I’m surprised when he leans closer, presses his face into my throat, his nose at the curve of my neck. “Smelled it when we hooked up too.”
He breathes in again, and I beg my dick not to think it’s time to play.
There’s nothing sexual about this moment.
Miles isn’t trying to seduce me. He’s using my scent, me, as something familiar, something grounding, holding him to this moment and pulling him out of whatever space he’d just been in his head.
And that…fuck, as much as I don’t want him to feel this way and don’t want him to need me, there’s something so magical about that, something that hits me deep, on this level nothing else ever has before.
This isn’t about fun or sex; it’s real and honest, heartbreaking yet beautiful.
I wrap an arm around him, pulling him close, not caring that we’re on the ground, in the bushes, back against the porch, and I just hold him, let Miles take what he needs from me, try to keep him out of his head and in this moment, with me.
We don’t talk, not for a while, nothing outside of me telling him he’s doing well, to keep breathing, and making sure he knows everything will be okay.
Eventually, he calms down, but he doesn’t move away from me.
When I feel him stiffen, I know he’s back to himself.
“Fuck. I can’t believe I did that.” Miles pulls away, and though I don’t want to, I let him. The last thing I want is to do anything to upset him again.
“It’s okay.” I grab the water bottle from the stairs, handing it to Miles. He takes it, opening it and chugging half of it down.
“Shit. I’m sorry you’re sitting here in the dirt with me.”
“I don’t mind,” I assure him. “Want to look for worms?” I tease. “I used to do that when I was a kid.”
“What? No,” he rushes out, his brow creased, but I see him almost smiling. I like making Miles smile. It’s not easy, so I’m taking it as a personal challenge to get him to do it as much as possible.
“You sure? It’s fun.”
“I don’t even know what to say to you right now.”
“I get that a lot.” I stand up and hold my hand out for him. “Come on.”
I don’t expect Miles to take it, but he does. He’s full of surprises today. Maybe he’s still feeling vulnerable after what happened. I imagine he is. I would be too.
After helping him to his feet, I don’t let go. When I move toward the stairs, he immediately pulls to a stop. “I’m not going in there.”
“I figured not. Trust me.”
His brows are drawn together, cute little studying lines on his forehead, but a moment later, he walks with me. I lead him around the house and toward the backyard. I breathe out a sigh of relief when I see that no one from the frat is back there.
Miles and I go to the bench seat we have under a tree and sit down.
“I used to have them too, ya know? Panic attacks. For the first couple of years after my mom died.” Though he’s still confusing as hell, I’m beginning to understand Miles better.
He’s more willing to open up, to let his guard down, when I’ve given him a piece of me.
“How did you make them stop?” he asks.
“Therapy and just time, I guess.”
“I’m sure you don’t want to deal with this. It’s probably bringing up bad memories for you. I don’t want to fuck with your mental health. I should go. I just came here to tell you that it’s fine if you don’t want to hook up anymore. You don’t have to skip class to avoid me.”
Now it’s my turn to be confused. What the hell is he talking about? “You think I don’t want to hook up with you anymore? Because believe me, I fucking do. It was hot, and I’ve done nothing but think about it ever since.”
He still looks skeptical. “Then where were you today?”
“I had an appointment for my physical. I had to go in for STI screenings and shit like that. You thought I didn’t go because I don’t want you?
” Jesus, this poor guy. Maybe I should still look at what’s happened since we’ve met as a red flag, but it’s fading, getting lighter by the moment.
All I can think about is what must be going on inside him, what he’s been through to make him feel so bad about himself.
“I want you,” I confirm. “I don’t play games like that.
I’m honest with people. I would never bail on you without telling you how I feel. That’s not me.”
He looks almost…fuck, almost bashful. Or…insecure? Unsure? With some cockiness mixed in. He closes his eyes for a moment, then says, “Are you sure you don’t want to change your mind? Because it’s probably better for you.”
“Pretty sure that’s up to me.” I smile, hoping it softens the words. “I mean, have you looked in the mirror? You’re really fucking hot, and I haven’t gotten the chance to try out your mouth yet. I’m looking forward to that.”
My body relaxes when Miles offers an unexpected chuckle. “It’s a good mouth.”
“I’m sure.” I grin.
I feel lucky to get to see this side of him, wonder how many people have seen it before. I don’t think many have, and that makes my whole body heavy with sadness.
“Your frat…?” he asks.
“Will get over it.”
We sit in silence, and I just let him sort out whatever’s going on inside his head. I think there’s a lot to untangle there, and maybe he’s right and I should run far away from that, but I don’t want to.
“Sorry for this, for losing it like that.”
“You don’t have to apologize…though you might have to help me fix the porch.”
He chuckles again, and damn do I like the sound of it. “I can handle that.”
I smile.
“What are you smiling at?”
Honestly? I don’t know. Clearly, I’ve been intrigued by him, and though I don’t have more answers yet, I like what I’m uncovering more and more. “You.”
“Have you met me?” He cracks a rare joke.
“Yes. I kinda like you.”
He sighs, and for a moment I wonder if I said something wrong, before Miles says the last thing I expect from him. “My mom died too.” My eyes widen. “I should have led into that better. I just wanted to say it before I talked myself out of it.”
It’s something we share, then—the pain of losing a mother, something I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. I realize how big this moment is, Miles sharing something so devastating with me, and I don’t want to say anything that might put him in even more pain.
“I’m sorry, Miles. Do you want to talk about it? Or about her?”
“Not right now. I just felt you should know that. That it might make you feel less alone. I appreciate your staying with me, talking me down, not making me feel like a total asshole for…well, being me.”
“You’re not an asshole.”
“Most people would disagree.”
“Most people are wrong,” I counter.
We sit there for a minute, on the bench together, just being.
A million questions batter me, particularly about how he lost his mom, but he’s already given me a lot today.
“You should stay tonight—for TaskFrat Challenge.”
“No one wants me here.”
“I do.” I wait, dying to see how he’ll respond.
“Okay,” he finally answers, and I’m a whole lot happier about all this than I should be.