Chapter 20
CHAPTER
TWENTY
MIRANDA
My brain stumbles into consciousness, drifting upward through a fog of warmth and memory. It takes a second for the pieces to settle—my body humming with the soft, golden afterglow of pleasure. Every muscle feels languid and loose, still trembling faintly from the intensity of last night’s release.
The skin of my cheeks is cool, a stark contrast to the cocoon of heat wrapped around the rest of me beneath the blankets. The power must still be out. If this is what a night without electricity looks like… I can’t say I mind.
Miles made sure it was unforgettable.
He sleeps beside me now, deep and peaceful, his arm slung over my waist, his breath a slow rise and fall against the quiet.
I roll onto my side to face him, unable to resist the pull.
Miles is beautiful when he’s awake, but there’s something about a sleeping Miles that turns me into a complete goner.
Something unguarded. Soft in a way he rarely is when the world is watching.
My gaze traces the familiar lines of his face—the strong jaw, the perfect slope of his nose, the stubble that’s grown a shade darker overnight. His lips are gently parted as he breathes through his nose, full and plush and slightly pouty. My fingers ache with the instinct to trace them.
A happiness I’ve never known blooms warm and fierce in my chest—so bright it almost hurts.
Hope, too. The dangerous kind. The kind I never let myself touch.
Maybe my life doesn’t have to look the way I once believed it would.
Maybe I’m allowed this.
Maybe the fairy tale isn’t a myth reserved for other people.
I was always too afraid to imagine anything this good. Too afraid to believe it could exist for someone like me. But now? With him? My heart whispers possibilities I never dared to say out loud.
Last night was a gift of epic proportions, and Miles has no idea. How could he? I’ve kept so much of myself buried, locked behind walls I built out of fear and survival.
He is only the second man I’ve ever been with.
My first love—and the wreckage left in its wake—covered me in a darkness I thought I’d drown in. The fallout scarred me, thickened into a wall of trauma I believed no one could ever scale. I didn’t think anyone would even try.
But Miles didn’t break through those walls in one sweeping blow. He chipped away at them slowly… with tenderness. With patience. With small, steady acts of care. His love was never sharp or demanding. It was soft, coaxing me gently toward the light.
He has no idea how much I needed exactly that.
Unwelcome images of my first relationship—the ache, the fallout, the parts of myself I lost—surge into my mind like a tide I didn’t invite. I squeeze my eyes shut, willing them away. They don’t belong here, not in this soft, sacred little universe Miles and I created last night.
But my past is relentless.
It always has been.
A ghost with claws.
No matter how fiercely I try to outrun it, regret finds me.
My traitorous mind drags me backward, replaying moments I never want to see again.
My chest tightens, breath quickening as the panic swells—sharp, familiar, unwelcome.
My skin goes cold and clammy. Last night cracked open a part of my heart I’ve kept locked for years, and now everything I buried is clawing to the surface.
Miles’s eyes flutter open. He sees me, and a sleepy smile curves across his face—pure, warm, disarming. “Good morning, Sunshine.”
The sweetness of it hits me like a punch.
Bile rushes into my throat.
Before I can stop myself, I fling the blankets back and bolt from the bed. My feet hit the cold floor. My body is a storm of panic and memory. I race to the bathroom, slam the door, and twist the lock with trembling fingers.
I barely make it to the toilet before I collapse to my knees and retch—years of fear, shame, and buried trauma pouring out of me in violent waves.
I puke until there’s nothing left in my stomach, until I’m hollow and shaking.
Finally, I sag back against the cold tile wall, chest heaving.
I reach for a towel hanging nearby and wipe my mouth, then swipe at the tears tracking hot rivers down my chilled cheeks.
A soft knock breaks the quiet.
“Miranda?” His voice is muffled, but threaded with worry. “Are you okay?”
My voice fractures. “I’m fine. I just… need a moment.”
His footsteps retreat, gentle and hesitant, and the silence settles around me again. I drop my head back against the wall, letting out a long, unsteady breath.
Goose bumps rise over my bare skin. Only now do I register how freezing the tile is beneath me, how stark the contrast is from the warm cocoon of blankets and Miles’s body heat. I curl inward, arms wrapped around myself, shivering.
I can’t go back out there. Not yet.
Not like this.
“Get it together, Miranda.” My palms press into my knees, squeezing until my skin burns—grounding myself, punishing myself, maybe both.
Last night was perfect—achingly, impossibly perfect.
Now I’m moments away from ruining it because I can’t let go.
Because the past still has its claws in me.
Because even after everything Miles gave me—patience, tenderness, safety—I am terrified of breaking something good. Terrified of breaking him.
And I hate it—all of it. I don’t want to still be haunted. I loathe that this is who I am.
What I want is Miles.
Maybe I don’t deserve him—but God, I’ve come to need him. After last night… after feeling his hands, his mouth, his body against mine… I can’t go back to the version of myself who didn’t know what that felt like.
My teeth chatter as I rise from the cold tile.
I grab my toothbrush with shaking fingers, load it with far too much toothpaste, and scrub until the sour taste leaves my tongue.
My face is a blotchy, washed-out mess when I splash water over my cheeks and gently pat my eyes dry.
It helps, but only a little. Maybe Miles won’t notice. Or maybe I’m foolish for hoping.
And though he’s now intimately familiar with every inch of my naked body, I wrap a towel around myself like flimsy armor before stepping back into the bedroom.
He’s sitting up against the headboard, the quilt pooled around his waist, his hair a tousled halo. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah,” I lie quickly, shaking my head and pressing a hand to my stomach. “Something I ate must not have sat well with me.”
I move to the dresser and grab fresh underwear, a bra, and soft sweatpants. The oversized sweatshirt he peeled off me last night lies on the floor. I scoop it up and tug it over my head, hoping he can’t see how rattled I am.
“I can’t say I approve of this,” Miles teases, eyes warm and mischievous. “I much prefer fewer clothes.”
“Yeah, well…” I climb into bed and burrow under the blankets. “It’s freezing.”
He tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear and looks at me with a tenderness so intense it almost hurts. “I know a way we can warm up.”
I pat his hand away. “Down, boy.”
He laughs, soft and easy. “Alright, fine. Snuggle?”
I scoot closer. His arm wraps around my back and pulls me against the heat of him. He drapes the mountain of blankets over us both.
“A snuggle,” I murmur, “I can do.”
A beat of silence passes. Then his voice dips, gentle but searching. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah, I’m great.” I try to sound chipper, but the effort falls flat.
“Last night wasn’t too much? I didn’t cross a line?”
Guilt punches me in the chest. I hate that my panic is making him second-guess himself. “Absolutely not.” I cup his cheeks, forcing him to see the truth in my eyes. “Last night was perfect. Beyond perfect.”
“Yeah?” he asks softly.
“Yeah.” I lean in and kiss the sharp line of his jaw. “It was truly amazing, Miles. Seriously.”
“Okay.” Relief threads through his voice, but worry still lingers at the edges.
“So,” I pivot, needing the subject change like oxygen, “do you think we’ll get power today?”
He shrugs. “Not sure. Would it really be so bad if we didn’t?”
“Yes,” I scoff. “It’s freezing.”
His hand slips beneath my sweatshirt, fingers tracing slow lines along my waist. “I think we’re doing pretty well.”
“We need to take showers,” I counter.
He dips his face into the crook of my neck and nuzzles my skin, placing featherlight kisses that make my breath catch. “I think you smell delicious.”
“We need to eat.”
“We have a pantry full of food.”
“I’ll clarify…we need to eat more than cheese crackers.”
“We have other things,” he insists, “and a whole bunch of bananas.”
I wrinkle my nose. “They have brown spots.”
“Barely.”
“Too many for me.”
“Even if you’re starving?”
“I’m never that starving.”
He laughs, pulling me tighter and pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Of course.”
He swallows, and I feel the movement against my skin. “I don’t want to presume anything here, so… what do you think happens now? What do you want to happen between us?”
I pull back, tilting my head up so I can see his eyes. “Are we having the talk?”
“Yeah.” He shrugs helplessly. “I spent the better part of the night buried deep inside you. I kinda need some direction here. I never want to do anything to upset you, so I need to know what’s going on in your head.”
“Well,” I deflect, because I am a coward, “what’s going on in yours?”
He doesn’t hesitate. “I love you, Miranda.”
My body goes rigid—a full-body flinch I can’t hide. The last time I heard a man say those words… the fallout nearly ruined me.
Miles feels the change instantly. His hands glide up and down my arms, soothing but alert.
“What is it? Why does that freak you out? I feel like there’s something you’re not telling me—something I should know.
I want to do right by you, but if I don’t know what’s hurting you, I can’t… I don’t know how to measure my words.”
Emotion swells in my throat so fast it nearly chokes me. “I don’t want you walking on eggshells around me. You should be with someone you can just… be yourself with. I have issues, Miles.” I laugh bitterly. “I think that’s pretty damn clear. You don’t deserve that.”
“Who doesn’t have issues?” His voice is low, earnest, unwavering. “None of us is perfect, Miranda. But with you, I’m the best version of myself. From the moment I met you, I felt this pull—like our souls were already connected and just waiting to find each other again.”
My breath stutters.
“I’m not lying when I say you’ve become my best friend.
My day gets better when you smile at me.
I’m happiest when we’re together. I loved you as a friend because I thought that’s what you needed, and I was willing to wait.
But after last night—after feeling how good we are together—I don’t want to go back.
I want to kiss you and love you in every way I can. ”
“It’s too soon,” I whisper. “We shouldn’t rush into anything.”
“We’ve been building up to this for six months. It’s not too soon.”
“You should take more time. Really think about it. I’m… a lot.”
“I don’t need time.” His voice deepens—steady, sure. “One fucking moment with you, and I was all in. I’ve always been all in. I just need you to join me. I need you to love me back.”
“It’s not about love. I do love you.” My voice breaks. “It’s the risk. I’m not a good bet.”
He cups my face, firm but tender. “Are you kidding? You’re the only bet.
I wish you’d share your past with me, what’s holding you back, so I could help.
But even if you never do, it doesn’t change how I feel.
I don’t care what happened before. I know the woman in front of me. And she’s the one I want.”