Chapter 12 – Claire
TWELVE
CLAIRE
It’s dark when my name is whispered in a dream, half waking me.
“Claire,” the voice repeats, but I snuggle deeper into my blanket, turning away.
“Claire,” it says again, louder, and a part of me recognizes then that this is not a dream, especially when a hand touches my shoulder, shaking me gently.
“Go away,” I grumble, turning away from the hand. “Sleepin’.”
A deep chuckle fills the room, and with it, my body stills. Even in this hardly awake state, I recognize that laugh.
“Claire, come on,” the voice says again, this time losing the quiet whisper, and suddenly, sleep is leaving my body. I look over my shoulder, one eye squinting to see Miles Miller hovering over my bed, his smile wide.
I must be dreaming.
There are so many reasons this has to be some kind of dream, but mostly because Miles is smiling at me.
“Miles?”
“Come on,” he says one last time, stepping away from me and tipping his head to the door.
My eyes shift from him, dressed in a pair of loose shorts and a Miller Automotive T-shirt, then to the windows where I actually remembered to close the blinds last night. But there isn’t sun leaking through the cracks, so I move back to him in confusion.
“It’s dark out,” I say, stating the obvious as I sit up in the center of my bed. He smiles so wide I wonder if there might be something wrong with him.
“Not for long.”
“What?”
“Just come on, Claire,” he urges, seeming to lose patience.
I look at him, at his genuinely pleading face, before I sigh, rolling and shifting until my feet touch the ground. That’s when I see the time.
“Five a.m., Miles? Are you fucking with me?”
“You’re already up, let’s go.” Then he leaves the room.
I watch him go, wondering if I should just go back to bed because it is fucking early , but my curiosity wins out as I stand, then follow him out into the hall.
“Miles?” I call out in a whisper as if there is someone else in the house soundly sleeping.
“Down here,” he says from downstairs.
The sound of ceramic and metal hits my ears before I hear the sliding glass door opening. Once more, my curiosity prevails, and I move down the stairs. I probably should have put something more substantial on, since I’m wearing a tank without a bra and a pair of sleep shorts, but it’s too late for that.
After making my way down the stairs, I see him, arms seemingly filled with items I can’t quite make out, moving through the sliding glass door and out onto the deck, making a left toward the side that faces away from the ocean. Confusion continues to fill me, but I smell coffee and bacon and decide that I’ll go wherever both of those are.
Stepping out onto the deck, I pause in utter bafflement for a beat as Miles bends to place a bowl onto the small table before he stands and looks at me, his shoulders straightening. He gives me a small, shy smile before he lifts a hand, rubbing the back of his neck. A sweet blush creeps up his skin, and suddenly, I feel inexplicably nervous.
Suddenly, I’m self-conscious and worried about my morning breath and my bedhead and the fact that there’s a bit of a chill in the morning air, and I have two point five seconds before my nipples get hard. I cross my arms on my chest before that becomes a new thing to worry about as I take in the scene before me.
A couple of blankets are on the two chairs facing the boardwalk, and on the table before them are coffee, bacon, and three of the boxes of cereal he left out for me yesterday as well as my water bottle.
When I saw the cereal on the counter after work last night, warmth filled me. From his text, I knew he felt bad about hurting me that morning, but going the extra mile to get me more cereal and add it to the list that I made him tells me he genuinely regretted it.
“What is this?” I ask, looking around to try and figure out what’s going on.
He bends again, picking up that familiar yellow piece of paper.
“Yesterday, I added ‘have a fun breakfast with Claire.’” His hand reaches for a box of Lucky Charms and lifts it, shaking it. “And watching a sunrise is on the list, too.”
My heart starts beating fast as I put the pieces together.
“Two birds, one stone,” he says, a shy smile on his lips.
“You made me breakfast?”
“I mostly just made bacon, and I hate to say it, but it was a selfish act. I like bacon, and I think my body might stop working if I only eat sugar for breakfast.”
“Everyone likes bacon,” I say absentmindedly, barely paying attention as I take a step closer. “You set all this up?”
He shrugs nonchalantly.
“My grandmother used to do this a few times during the summer and made a big thing out of it. Wake up early, and eat a huge breakfast in our pajamas while watching the sunrise. It’s one of the highlights of my summers as a kid.”
“And now you’re doing it with me?” I ask.
He smiles again, and that blush I like so much blooms across his cheeks. “I saw the weather was pretty clear today and thought it might be a good idea to…” He scrubs a hand over his face. “I don’t know. Maybe it was stupid. If you want to go back to bed?—”
“No,” I say quickly. “No, this is…this is amazing. It’s perfect.” I look around. “I can’t believe you did this.”
He gestures for me to take a seat.
“I, uh…” he starts awkwardly, a hand moving to the back of his neck again, as I’ve noticed he does when he’s uncomfortable. “I owe you an apology.”
I sit back and cross my arms on my chest, tipping my head to the side and smiling a bit. “Go on…”
A blush depends on his cheeks.
“I was a dick to you yesterday. I was having a bad morning, and that had nothing to do with you, but I took it out on you all the same. That’s not okay, and you deserve more kindness and respect than I gave you.”
I roll my lips into my mouth as my eyes start to water. Stupid fucking emotions.
“Oh, fuck, I’m sorry,” he says, leaning forward and grabbing my hand in his. It’s warm, and he holds my hand tightly in a way that distracts me just enough to get a handle on myself again. “Don’t cry. Or do. I don’t want to tell you what to do. Fuck, I’m screwing this up.”
I let out a laugh and shake my head, reaching for a napkin to dab at my eyes. He lets go of my hand, and instantly I feel the loss of them.
I shake my head and give him a watery smile. “No, no, I’m just a crybaby. I cry at everything. Cute baby videos, sappy commercials, those fucking ASPCA commercials with Sarah McLachlan.”
I shake my head again and take a deep breath to center myself. “I’m good. And I appreciate it, really, but I understand. You’re under a lot of pressure?—”
“That’s not an excuse. I’m serious, Claire. Don’t make excuses for me. I was an ass. Let me apologize.” I roll my lips into my mouth and lift my hands in surrender for him to answer. He lets out a small laugh and shakes his head. “I’m just saying, I’m sorry. I’ve been judging you for some time on a scale that was unfair to you, and I promise to do better.”
I wait a beat to see if he’s done, so I don’t get yelled at again, and nod.
“I accept your apology.” He looks like he wants to argue with even that, to tell me I shouldn’t accept it before he lets it go. “You know, I’m just glad you’ve moved past your hatred stage,” I say with a smile and a shrug. I say it to add some levity because I don’t do well with serious conversations, but instead, he stares at me with soft eyes, a hint of sadness still there.
“I never hated you, Claire,” he says gently after a long moment. “I think…I think I was envious of you.”
“Envious?” I ask, fighting the disbelieving laugh bubbling in my chest.
“You do what you want. You don’t let anyone else tell you it’s wrong. You’re giving yourself time to figure out what you want. I’m lucky. I like what I do. I like where I live, but you’re right: I’m constantly hustling, trying to fulfill this sense of what I should do I created in my head. I don’t make time for myself or for…fun.”
I give him a small, sad smile, my chest tightening at the look on his face.
“You look tired, Miles,” I say, letting out the concern I’ve been keeping in since I moved in. He does, and not because it’s early as fuck. It’s a bone-deep weariness that seems to hang around him.
“I am,” he admits. I let that hang in the air between us, willing to let it be if he wants, but he surprises me when he continues. “I just…”
I sit there patiently, my heart pounding, to see if he’ll finally open up before he looks at the ocean behind me and takes in a deep breath. “Paul wants me to sell this place.”
“What?” I ask, alarmed, sitting up straighter.
“I don’t know how much he told you.” Knowing Paul, probably not enough. “But we both inherited this place from my grandmother. I wanted to keep it. He wants to sell it. So, we came to an agreement about how things would go, with me paying him essentially a mortgage since I couldn’t afford to buy him out outright.”
My brows come together as I try to digest this new information.
“But…?”
“But for some reason, he wants more. He wants me to buy him out. He’s threatening to try and force me to sell.”
I sit there for long moments as I piece the story together, realizing that once a month, Paul would go on a bender of sorts, spending money I didn’t think he had, partying, and buying shit he didn’t need…
Now, with context, I can realize it was whatever money Miles was apparently sending him.
“Well, his cash cow is gone,” I say without meaning to because, in those interim periods, I was the only one with money to pay for silly things like, say, groceries. I feel my eyes widen at the slip, and my cheeks burn. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have?—”
“Don’t worry, I’ve already kind of come to that conclusion,” he says with a laugh. “I think we both have a unique understanding of Paul and the way he manipulates people and the truth.”
I nod with wide eyes, and then, for some reason, I continue spilling.
“He’s jealous of you, you know,”
“What?”
“He wouldn’t outright say it, but it was obvious. Always complaining about you, comparing himself to you.” He shakes his head, but I continue. “We fought about you once.”
“You fought about me? With Paul?” he asks, shocked, and I nod.
“Yeah. It was after my birthday party. Apparently, he didn’t like that I was talking to you a bunch. He thought I was into you.” I hesitate and bite my lip, guilt eating me at that. “We got into a huge fight that night.”
“Why did you do that? Talk to me?” he asks.
“You didn’t know anyone there, and Paul wasn’t going to introduce you to anyone. And I…” I’m embarrassed at the reminder that he invited a dozen people I didn't know to what was allegedly a birthday party for me. Especially knowing that I stayed for another three months after that. “I didn’t know a ton of people there either. They were mostly Paul's friends he wanted to impress.”
He closes his eyes like the confession pains him.
“And I kept brushing you off,” he says, then sighs, adding his own side of the disaster. “He invited me last minute and made it seem like he was being friendly, a brotherly gesture. It turned out he needed someone to foot the bill.”
“No,” I whisper, eyes wide as guilt rips through me. “Oh, Miles, I’m so sorry.”
He shakes his head like it's no big deal, but to me it is: I should have known that was why Paul invited him, should have objected to such an extravagant night, but I was in such delusion then, that I didn’t see the red flags waving.
“I should have seen it coming, it was typical Paul. He’s always doing shit like that. But he told me you wanted this big thing and were giving him shit and…” His voice trails off, and a soul-deep sigh leaves his chest before he puts on a fake smile. “It doesn’t matter. We’re up at the ass crack of dawn for fun, goddammit. We’re not going to let him bring this down, too.”
I stare at him for a long moment before finally, I nod and smile.
“Lucky Charms or Fruit Loops?”
* * *
“That thing’s a weapon,” he says ten minutes later after I downed nearly half of my coffee, tipping his chin toward my pink water bottle, plastered with stickers.
I gasp. “Don’t talk about Margo like that.”
“Margo?”
“My water bottle.”
“Full, that thing probably weighs like forty pounds.” I roll my eyes. “I’m serious. If you threw that at someone, you’d probably kill them.”
“God, you’re so dramatic,” I say with a laugh. “Leave my emotional support water bottle out of this.”
“Your emotional support water bottle?”
“Yeah. I bring her everywhere. I feel naked without her.”
With that, his eyes dip to my chest where my hard nipples are poking through the thin shirt. I bite my lip, and with his burning gaze, a chill runs through me, tightening them further.
Goddammit.
He clears his throat, then stands, moving to the edge of the deck. He looks over his shoulder and says, “This never gets old.”
When I look behind him, I see the sky is a radiant orange, with a bright yellow center.
“Oh my god, it’s beautiful,” I whisper, moving to stand next to him and watching the colors fill the sky, the light reflecting off the ocean. It’s the most gorgeous sunrise I’ve ever seen, with the way the water amplifies it.
It’s absolutely breathtaking.
“Fucking gorgeous,” he says low, his body close to mine and something wistful in his words, but I can’t bear to look away from the magic before us.
A moment later, my alarm goes off upstairs. I turn to Miles to smile at him, but his gaze is already on me, a little dazed, like he’s been staring for some time. My breath catches in my chest, and the sound of my alarm fades away. His hand lifts, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering against the skin there.
They’re calloused and rough from what I assume are long hours in the shop, and for a slight, infinitesimal moment, I wonder what they would feel like on other parts of my body.
Without thinking, I lift my hand, placing it on his cheek and brushing my thumb along his mustache the way I did that night in the ocean. I’m shocked when his hand lifts, capturing mine against his face and holding it there before he finally speaks.
“Is that your alarm?”
I nod, then swallow as his hand drops.
“Yeah. Memorial Day weekend. Gotta…” I clear my throat, suddenly feeling tight. “I have to get there early.” He nods but doesn’t move, and neither do I. It feels like if I do, this moment might shatter, and I’ll never get it back.
“I should get going for the day, too,” he says. “I haven’t taken my run, and I try to do that before the boardwalk is flooded with tourists.”
Finally, he steps back and moves to the table to clean it off. A part of me fills with disappointment that this morning is over already, wishing I could call out of work, but also…this was good.
This was perfect.
I move over to the table to help clean up, but he looks at me and shakes his head.
“No, I’ve got this. Go get ready for your day.”
“I can’t do that,” I say with a laugh.
“I insist. It’ll make us even for my being a dick.”
I want to argue, to tell him that we already agreed the slate was clean, but his face looks so sincere, I can’t do anything but nod.
“Okay.”
“Don’t forget Margo,” he says, tipping his chin toward my water bottle.
I let out a laugh and shake my head, grabbing her and making my way toward the door. I do feel guilty, but that alarm is still going off, and I barely gave myself enough time to get ready and be out the door when I set it.
Still, I pause at the door, watching him fold the blankets and stack plates.
“Hey, Miles?” I say quietly. His head turns my way curiously.
“Yeah?”
“Thank you. This was…amazing.”
He shakes his head and blushes, busying himself with clearing things.
“Oh, yeah. It was…it was nothing. It was on the list, you know?”
I smile. “I don’t think that’s why you did it,” I say, but don’t push it more than that. I lean in the doorway before I ask, “Did you have fun this morning?”
With that, he stands up straight, arms crossed on his chest as he takes me in. Now it’s my turn to be nervous and fidget with my water bottle.
“What?”
“Did you have fun this morning? That was the point, after all.” It’s silly, but my belly flutters with my question. More so when he stares at me for long moments before a small smile pops on his face as if he can’t help it.
“I’m finding I seem to always have fun when you’re around, Claire.”