Chapter 16 – Miles
SIXTEEN
MILES
“I’m fine, really, Helen!” Claire says as the front door opens. It’s barely nine, so it can’t be a good thing that she’s back this early, much less with Helen in tow.
“No, you’re not. The doctor said you need to lie down and rest! Where’s that Miller boy?” Ignoring the way my pulse beats a bit faster at the idea of Claire being hurt, I move to the entryway from the kitchen, Helen ushering Claire to the sofa in the living room. When she sits and Helen leans back, I can see there is a giant goose egg on her forehead.
“Jesus, Claire, what happened?” I ask, moving around the couch quickly to check her out.
“Nothing, Helen is just being a bit overbearing,” Claire says, though when she rolls her eyes, I don’t miss the small wince she makes.
“Overbearing my ass!” Helen shouts with a glare directed at Claire, then shifts her gaze to me. “Kids were playing baseball on the beach, not paying attention. Seems the sun got in their eyes, and one of the kids got her in the head. She was out cold for a few minutes.”
“Please stop exaggerating,” Claire says with a sigh, sinking back into the couch. “I was not out cold for a few minutes. A few moments at best.”
“ A few minutes or a few moments, it’s kind of the same, Claire,” I say, because neither sounds great.
“It’s a huge difference. If I was out cold for a few minutes , they wouldn’t let me leave the doctor’s office. The other is where I am right now. I was dazed, not concussed.” She glares at me with a venom I didn’t think someone with a head injury could muster. I’m proven correct when she winces, her hand moving to her head, then mumbles, “Shit.”
“See.” Helen turns to me. “I’ll be expecting her to stay home for at least two days.” She turns back to Claire then, giving her a motherly, chiding look. “And you’ll need the doctor to give you a note saying you’re good to return.”
Claire’s shoulders drop, and she gives Helen a deadpan look. “Is that really necessary?” she whines.
“Yes,” Helen and I say together. Helen turns to me, nodding approvingly.
“You’ll keep an eye on her today? Doc says someone should make sure she’s not losing it. It’s not a concussion, but she got knocked pretty good.”
“I don’t need a babysitter,” Claire grumbles.
“Yeah, I’ve got it, Helen. You covered at the beach?”
She nods and waves a hand at me. “Yeah, no worries. Feel better, Claire.” And then she’s off, nearly skipping as if she didn’t just deliver an injured employee to my door.
“Has she always been this bossy?” Claire asks with a low grumble.
I let out a laugh.
“Yeah, pretty much. At least she has been since I was a kid.” I look at her standing there before I sigh. “Come on. Let’s get you comfy on the couch, you’re going to be here for a while.” I could bring her upstairs to her room, but I’d rather have her somewhere I can comfortably check in on her occasionally.
“Oh my god, not you too,” she says. “I swear I’m fine. My head just hurts a bit, and I’ll have a bit of a knot on my head for a little while.”
“Humor me, okay?” I ask. She looks at me with a bit of a glare, but she must see the resolve in my eyes because she rolls her eyes, then winces at the move before settling into the couch with a sigh. “Where’s Margo?” I feel stupid calling her water bottle by a human name, but it makes her smile, so it’s worth it.
“In my bag,” she says, tipping her chin to where Helen dropped a tote bag near the door.
I dig through it, finding her water before shaking it to check its full and handing it over to her.
“Staying hydrated will help. Want TV, or will it hurt your head?”
“TV should be fine. I don’t want to die of boredom.”
I chuckle at her dramatics before sitting on the other side of the couch, turning the television on, and lowering the volume. Then I grab my phone and shoot Steven, the other mechanic at my shop, to let him know I won’t be in today. It’s not the best case since money is tight, but I’m not leaving her alone. If I get to sit on this couch with her all day to make sure she’s okay, that’s a hit I’ll willingly take.
I force myself not to look at that impulse too closely.
“Why are you doing this?” she asks some time later. When I look over at her, her eyes are closed, her head is back on the cushions with the blanket I draped over her earlier pulled up to her chest.
“What?”
“Why are you doing this? Taking care of me, sitting with me. You have work today. I know you called out. You didn’t have to do that.”
“Because you’re hurt,” I say simply, not wanting to dig into the deeper answer of because I’m starting to like you, and I can’t like you, but I also can’t change that, so here we are .
It’s the same conclusion I jumped to when I saw Sam trying to dance with her: I just couldn’t stand the idea of someone else pulling her in close. The same reason I can’t seem to say no to any of her chaotic ideas, the reason I check her fun list every day and try to think of ways to check them off.
“I would have been fine by myself. You didn’t have to inconvenience yourself with me,” she murmurs under her breath.
I groan and then shift closer to her on the couch. She looks too helpless like this, her confident shine waning like she doesn’t have the energy to keep it up, and that weakens my defenses.
“I’m with you because I care about you, Claire. And you know that,” I say, reaching over to push a strand of her hair that’s fallen into her face. I tell myself it’s to look at her bump, and even if it’s a lie, I inspect it a bit.
The swelling has gone down thanks to the bag of frozen peas I brought her, and the spot on her forehead, while red, doesn’t seem to be darkening, which I think is a good thing. A long beat passes before a soft smile slides along her lips.
“Yeah, I guess I do know that. You’re kind of in love with me.“
I let out a small laugh, baffled by how she can still be flirting when she probably has a killer headache.
“Well, at least I know you still have your twisted sense of humor.” I gently brush my fingers over her bump and watch fascinated as a small shiver runs through her, that smile still on her lips.
“Can you at least admit you like me? If I die, at least I’d die knowing you finally admitted you’re into me.”
I drop my hand then, crossing my arms on my chest and letting out a deep laugh, and turning back to the television where some movie I haven’t been paying attention to is playing.
“You’re not going to die, Claire.”
“So you’re denying me my last wish?”
“I’m not denying you anything,” I say, but when she doesn’t speak, I turn to her, her eyes closed, her tongue lolling out of her mouth. She opens one eye, then smiles and goes back to her dead face. “Do you even know how to be normal?”
“I can’t answer. I’m dead. There’s only one thing that would bring me back to life,” she stage whispers.
“Jesus Christ. I—” I stare at her, her tongue still out, her eyes closed, and a smile tipping at the edges before I sigh, giving in. Whatever. What does it even matter anymore, pretending?
“Of course I like you, Claire. How could I not? You’re…Claire.”
“I knew it!” she says, springing to life with a wide smile and turning to face me. “I knew you liked me.”
“You need to rest,” I say, determined to change the subject. “Lay down. Relax.”
She looks at me for a long moment before she smiles in a way that I know means trouble before she shifts her body until she’s lying along the couch, and before I know it, her head is in my lap.
I freeze, unsure of how to respond, but don’t get the time to overthink it when she turns to her back to look up at me.
“Watching a movie is on our list,” she says.
“Then I guess today we’ll be checking it off, won’t we?” I ask.
She smiles, then turns again to face the TV. Without meaning to, my hand moves, fingers shifting to her hair to push it back and over her shoulder, then repeating the move. As I sift through her hair, she lets out a small, contented sigh, and my heart skips a beat.
* * *
“This is nice,” she says quietly as she moves a fry through ketchup before eating it.
When I asked her what she wanted for an early dinner after she slept through what would have been lunch in my lap, she told me she wanted french fries and dino nuggets . I’m pretty sure it was another step in her make Miles have more fun scheme, but I couldn’t find it in myself to argue with her.
So I called up Grant and asked him to make a quick run to the store for us and then baked her dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets and frozen french fries.
And honestly? Better than I thought.
“What is? Having a concussion?”
She shakes her head with a laugh, tossing a plain fry at me. I grab it off the table and pop it into my mouth.
“No, you dummy. I told you I don’t have a concussion. I just mean…” She waves her hand around the kitchen where we’re eating, then to the plate. “This. You taking care of me.”
“I’m sure you’ve been taken care of before, Claire.”
I’ve heard many stories over the years about her family, her two older sisters and her brother, and her parents, all of whom are apparently very close. Still, she shrugs.
“By my mom. By my family. People who are forced to tolerate me, who have it ingrained in their mind that they have to care of me. But not…other people. Not a guy.”
With that, with the hint of shame in her words, my brow furrows as I look at her fully, reading between the lines.
“You’ve never had a boyfriend take care of you?” I don’t know why I ask it since I know Paul wasn’t the take-care-of-someone type, and I regret it instantly.
“Don’t give me that pitying look, Miles Miller, or I might start crying about how depressing my life is,” she says with a laugh, playing it off as is her way. When she sees my face, which is probably a mask of panic and guilt, she lets out another giggle. “I’m just joking. I’m not going to start crying, at least not right now. But what about you? Ever had a lady friend take care of you?”
I mull it over, then shake my head. “Nope. Never had the opportunity.”
Her brow comes together, and she stares at me, confused.
“Is that a dig on never getting beamed in the head with a baseball by a little kid?”
I let out a laugh, something I do often when Claire is around, before I clarify.
“I’ve never really had someone in my life I’ve been that close with.”
Her face transforms again, eyes going wide with shock. “Oh my god, Miles, are you a virgin?”
“Definitely not,” I correct quickly, then feel an embarrassed blush burning at my cheeks. I don’t know why it is I always seem to fumble my words around Claire. “I mean. No. I’m not a virgin. At all. I, uh. No.”
Real smooth, Miller.
“So you’ve only had fuck buddies?”
I choke on the water I was trying to sip to cool myself down.
“No. God, I just mean I’ve never had a serious girlfriend, one who would be living with me to have to take care of me.” Then I pause, repeating what I said and explaining. “Not that you’re my girlfriend. You’re my tenant. You’re just living with me. Fuck?—”
“You’re so easy to fluster,” she laughs, letting me out of my misery. I glare at her as she eats another nugget before asking, “Why haven’t you? Had a serious girlfriend, I mean.”
I shrug. “Never really had the time. Between updating this place and building up the shop, I haven’t had time for one. Women aren’t really into a man who works all the time and, as you like to point out, never likes to have fun.”
She gives me a soft smile.
“I don’t know, I think I’m doing a pretty good job at rehabbing you. You’re getting pretty fun.”
I can’t help but smile back. “All thanks to you, I suppose.”
She quirks a shoulder and puts a hand under her chin, and I let out a laugh at her antics.
“I bet by the time summer is over, you’ll be a whole new person.”
I smile and nod, though it reminds me that she’s only here until the end of the season. The thought of her leaving is unsettling.
“What’s next?” I ask. “After the summer, I mean.”
She shrugs, and fuck, I wish I had her carefree energy. That not-knowing alone would eat me alive.
“Not sure. I’ll probably head back to Evergreen Park, maybe work at my brother’s girlfriend’s dance studio again.”
“You don’t sound too happy about that.”
She tips her head to the side like she’s trying to decide how much to reveal before she explains.
“I love my hometown, and I love my family, but it can be a lot. They all expect me to have everything figured out, to find a job and stick to it, and get on with my life. They mean well, but it can be suffocating, having that in your face every day.” I nod with understanding. “Being here has been nice. No one asks me what I’m going to do with my life or what my ten-year plan is. I get to live day by day and figure things out as I go.”
Silence fills the space, and we both sit there for a beat, lost in our own thoughts before I blurt out without thinking, “You could always stay here, you know.” I don’t know why I say it, but I do all the same.
“What?”
“You could stay in Seaside Point.” She’s staring at me, and I focus my attention back to my dinner. “You fit here. Everyone would be happy to have you here more.”
I jolt when her hand reaches out, hand covering mine.
“Even you?” she asks softly. I look up then, seeing a vulnerability that is so opposite of how Claire is, it looks strange on her. Without thinking, I twine my fingers with hers and give her a soft smile.
“Especially me,” I whisper.
We sit in silence, and for a split moment, I almost lean in and press my lips to hers, throwing all common sense to the wind, but then there’s a loud knock at the front door before it opens.
“Hello?” the familiar voice of June comes calling in. “Claire, I hear you got hurt! Where are you?”
Claire squeezes my hand once, then lets go, smiling at me before she stands and goes to find her friend to assure her she’s fine.