Chapter 11 Miles
Eleven
Miles
Arkansas feels different after being here for a bit.
Not prettier. Not softer. Just quieter in a way that presses in on you instead of spreading out.
The land doesn’t roll like North Carolina hills.
It stretches. Flat, stubborn, endless. Like it’s daring you to blink first. It’s not home, but it isn’t uncomfortable.
I stand on Danae’s porch with a cup of hot coffee cooling in my hands inhaling the fresh air. The house smells like antiseptic and old wood and something faintly sweet—whatever Josie baked last night after the kids finally went down.
Behind me, the house creaks as if it’s alive. Like it’s breathing around us.
Her grandpa has settled in without missing a bit, unbothered by all the extra people invading his home.
It’s obvious in interacting with him how much family means to him.
The moment Josie, Danae, or the kids enter the room his entire face lights up.
He needs a lot. His care is demanding. He can’t help it.
But being here, experiencing it first hand, Danae’s life is here with him.
That thought settles heavy in my chest. Not fear, exactly. Responsibility. I didn’t come here planning to shoulder any of this, but here I am, boots by the door, bike parked out front like I belong.
I don’t know when that happened.
Inside, Danae moves quietly, the way people do when they are in their own safe space, their element as it were. She hasn’t said much this morning. Just kissed my shoulder when she passed me, fingers curling into my shirt like she needed to make sure I was real.
I let her do what she needed. Sensing she wants to feel some normalcy I didn’t pull her to me interrupting her path to her tasks.
Raff and Josie are already up. Raff’s sitting at the table with a legal pad, trying to make sense of discharge instructions like they’re a wiring diagram for a car. Josie’s packing snacks and extra clothes with the efficiency of someone who’s done this dance before.
Family orbiting a crisis.
I don’t step in. I don’t need to. Danae knows I’m here. That’s enough.
Danae’s grandpa looks smaller being home swallowed by the bed, oxygen tubing looped under his nose. But his eyes are sharp. Always have been. He sizes me up when I step into the room, and I don’t flinch. Men like him respect that.
“Morning, sir,” I greet wanting to have some time to get to know the man who is a rock for both Danae and Josie.
He nods. “You ride that bike out front?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Hmph.” A pause with the man staring me down.
I imagine back in his younger years he would have been intimidating to anyone trying to date his daughters or granddaughters.
The man is six feet three inches filling out the hospital beds easily.
The space of the room makes him seem smaller, but standing here under his scrutiny I feel my six feet two inches tall self, feeling about five feet tall.
He smiles a toothy grin. Then with a nod, he tells me quieter, “Good. She likes to go fast.”
A small laugh behind me gets my attention. Danae flushes, half embarrassed, half smiling. I feel something warm low in my chest at the way he watches her, like he’s memorizing her face in case he ever needs to carry it with him somewhere else.
Danae sinks onto the edge of the mattress and presses her forehead to his hand.
“You scared me,” she whispers.
He squeezes back. “Didn’t mean to.”
She laughs softly, a sound edged with tears, and I look away to give them that moment. Some things aren’t meant for witnesses. She has to work tonight and I know leaving him is bothering her.
Once she gets ready, I take her to work on the bike.
She hesitates at first about her scrubs getting dirty, but something changes. In a moment, she’s strapping on the helmet, hands steady, like she trusts me with her life. That thought hits harder than it should.
She climbs on behind me, arms slipping around my waist, body fitting to mine like it always has. Familiar. Right.
The ride is quiet. Wind. Engine. The steady drum of my heart.
When we pull in, I kill the bike and help her off. She takes her helmet off, hair already braided, she just pins the edges again, eyes bright, and a smile that I know is meant for me alone.
Her gaze moves to over my shoulder in the distance. That’s when I see him.
Dr. Reeves stands near the entrance, coat over his arm, posture just a little too still. He watches Danae like she’s something he’s already decided belongs to him.
I feel it immediately. That low, animal warning hum. The lion inside me coming alive into protective mode.
Danae thanks me, kisses my cheek, turns to go, and I catch her wrist.
“Hey,” I stop her for a second.
She looks back, confused.
I don’t give myself time to think. I pull her in and kiss her. Not hurried. Not sloppy.
Deliberate.
Her body responds instantly, softening, her mouth opening under mine like she knows exactly what I’m saying without words. My hand slides to her lower back, holding her there, grounding her against me.
This is mine.
Not ownership like property. Claim. Because she matters to me, I claim this feeling. I own my emotion, the care I have for her, it matters.
When we break apart, I meet Reeves’s eyes over her shoulder.
He doesn’t look away.
Neither do I.
Unspoken conversation complete, I give my attention back to Danae only when the man moves giving us our privacy back.
Danae exhales, forehead resting against my chest, unaware of the silent exchange happening over her head. I brush my thumb along her jaw, gentle now.
“I’ll be here when you’re done,” I tell her.
She nods, squeezes my hand once, and walks inside.
Reeves is long gone by the time she makes it inside.
Good.
The night drags.
I sit on my bike, helmet hooked on the handlebars, watching nurses come and go, watching shadows move behind glass. Every so often, I replay the look on his face.
Not anger.
Calculation.
That bothers me more.
When Danae finally comes out, exhaustion clings to her. I wrap her up before she can say anything, press my lips to her hair.
“You okay?” I ask.
She nods. “Better now.”
We ride home under a sky thick with stars, and for a little while, everything feels almost normal. The next day, Raff corners me out back while Danae and Josie fold laundry inside.
“So,” he says, chewing on a toothpick, “you gonna tell me how serious this is, or you gonna keep pretending I don’t know?”
I lean against the fence, arms crossed. How can I explain it? “She’s important,” I respond honestly.
He snorts. “That’s not an answer.”
I watch the kitchen window, Danae’s silhouette moving past it.
“Logistics are an issue,” I admit. “I don’t want to let her go.”
Raff studies me for a long moment. “Then don’t.”
Simple as that. This is what being a Hellion is, a brother who doesn’t press and accepts when a brother is going through a thing and needs a nudge to keep at it.
Later, when the house is quiet, I sit on the edge of the bed with my phone glowing in my hands, digging into the documents Grinder sent over about the good ole doctor.
It doesn’t take long for the concerns to come alive inside me.
Domestic order of protection against him. Ex-wife. Stalking. Repeated violations.
My jaw tightens. I shut the phone off and look at Danae sleeping beside me, her face soft, unguarded.
I don’t tell her. Not tonight. Right now, I’m here. With her. With this strange, fragile peace.
But I don’t forget.
I never do.
As I slide under the covers and pull her closer, one thought anchors itself deep in my bones, whatever this is between us, I’m in it for keeps.
I rent the place without telling anyone first. It’s ten minutes away, tucked back off a county road, one of those quiet little houses meant for people passing through instead of staying. Wood siding. Big bathtub. A porch that looks out onto nothing but trees and sky.
A sanctuary even if only temporary.
I talk to Raff and Josie once I have it secured. Danae is at work still. It’s early morning, the baby woke them up so we are sitting around the kitchen having coffee before starting the day. The caregiver has their grandfather’s needs under control so it’s a quiet moment among friends.
“You’re taking her there tonight,” she states, not asking, instructing.
It’s cute that she thinks I wasn’t intending to do exactly that. “She’s worked four twelves back to back. I know she does this regularly, but if we’re here and she can get a little break from her usual responsibilities I think it would be good for her.”
Josie smiles slyly, “you care about her.” Again she makes a statement not an inquiry.
“I do.” I don’t deny the truth because I do care. While I can’t define our situation, I can admit I do care, probably too much for a man like me.
Raff watches his woman closely looking for her reaction. She studies me then looks to Raff.
“I like this for you both. Dean has changed my life for the best and I want that for Danae too.” She pauses then gives me a stern look, “Miles, I don’t know you well, but I know you well enough.
You like the open road and to be on the go as if you’re unsettled.
I hope in Danae you can find a calming to whatever it is you run from constantly. ”
Her words settle inside me, but I don’t respond. Before we can dive any deeper, Danae comes home and the hustle of another day begins.
It takes some convincing when Danae wakes from the snooze she took after work to get her to agree to leave home.
I know she worries over her grandfather, but I’m not sure how much longer I have here to give her a break.
Also, Justice can only do so much school remotely so Josie and Raff will be leaving for North Carolina again soon.
I want to give her a chance to relax while I can.