Chapter 30 Snacks
Thirty
Snacks
Nora
The next morning, I wake up slumped in a stiff hospital chair.
My neck is bent at an angle it was never meant to hold for an extended period of time while the bitter aftertaste of terrible coffee clings to my tongue.
For one blissful second, I don’t know where I am until the antiseptic smell and pale blue privacy curtains snap everything back into place. Right. Hospital.
I slipped in before sunrise while Mom was down the hall finishing one last test. I’d told myself I was just going to sit for a minute. Rest my eyes for half a second. The chair clearly had other plans.
My phone lies face down in my lap, its battery barely hanging on. I rub at my eyes and stretch carefully, my joints protesting as I straighten. Machines hum softly around me, carts roll down the corridor, and I let myself breathe it all in—until the door creaks open and I sit up instantly, alert.
“You’re awake. I was starting to think you’d sleep through lunch,” Mom says.
“The chair was just so comfortable,” I mumble, pushing myself upright. “Couldn’t keep my eyes open.”
She laughs quietly. “I doubt that. But I’m glad you got some sleep.”
I stand, my legs stiff and uncooperative, and meet her in the middle of the room. I wrap my arms around her and press a kiss to her cheek. “How are you feeling?”
“Tired. Sore. Annoyed. But stable. Which is the important one.” She takes a seat on the bed.
Relief floods through me. I grab my half-empty water bottle and take a sip.
“Nora.”
I freeze, water still in my mouth. She never says my name like that unless she’s about to tell me something I don’t want to hear. I swallow. “Yes?”
“I talked to Miles after you left.”
The bottle nearly slips from my hand. “You… what?”
“He came back into the room.”
Heat rushes to my face. “Why?”
“Because he didn’t chase you,” she cuts in softly. “He sat. Right there.” She taps the arm of the chair beside her bed. “And he apologized.”
My throat tightens. “For what?”
“For upsetting you. For showing up without warning. For caring too much when you didn’t ask him to.”
That’s very Miles of him to do. I stare down at my hands, willing them to tell me why my heart feels too big for my ribs. “What else did he say?”
She peers at me over the rim of her glasses, her gaze sharp—the look of a woman who raised a child alone and survived it. “That he really likes you.”
I swallow hard.
“And that he understands why you ran.”
My thumb picks at the plastic label on the bottle. “I didn’t mean to hurt him,” I say, my voice barely there. “I just—”
“I know. You were scared.”
A weak laugh slips out. “That obvious?”
“To me?” She reaches for my hand, and guides me to the chair. “Always has been.”
I look down at our joined hands—hers thinner now, veins more visible, but still warm. “I told him to go after Maggie. I thought I was doing the right thing.”
“You thought you were protecting yourself,” she corrects. “And maybe him too.”
“I don’t want to need someone,” I admit. “Every time I do, they leave. Dad left. People always leave when things get hard.”
She squeezes my fingers. “Sweetheart… Miles didn’t leave when things got hard. He showed up at the hospital. With snacks.”
A smile tugs at my lips. “Him and his snacks.”
“He’s thoughtful.”
He’s the most thoughtful man I’ve ever met.
“And I told him,” she continues, “that you don’t push people away because you don’t care. You push them away to protect yourself. It’s self-preservation.”
I draw in a slow breath. She’s right. It’s always easier to be the one who walks away than the one left standing.
“And I told him,” she adds, “that if he’s patient enough, you’ll find your way back. You always do.”
A thick silence settles between us, but not uncomfortable.
“I don’t know what to do,” I whisper.
She leans back against the pillows. “You don’t have to know yet. But you do have to stop pretending he doesn’t matter.”
I nod, blinking fast. Because he does. He matters more than I’ve been willing to admit. And maybe—just maybe—that isn’t the worst thing.
“Alright,” She shifts on the bed. “Let’s break me out of here so I don’t have to spend another night in this prison.”
I snort. “I’m not smuggling you out of a hospital.”
“Good. Because you don’t have to. They’re discharging me. Everything checks out. The nurse should be back any minute with my papers.”
After we make hummus cucumber wraps for lunch, I collapse onto the couch while Mom settles into her chair. Yesterday is a blur—starting with me bolting out of the hospital. I didn’t go home. I drove. Aimlessly. Miles of pavement slipping past until I found myself parked at the RC field.
It was quiet. Empty. I sat on the edge of the grass until the sky went dark, just like that night with Miles in the back of his SUV.
Eventually, exhaustion won. I went to Mom’s townhouse and crashed on the couch for a few hours, still fully dressed, still pretending I wasn’t unraveling, before going back to the hospital.
“I wasn’t supposed to fall for him,” I whisper.
Mom’s hand stills around her mug.
“I mean it,” I rush on. “This was never part of the plan. He was a favor. A transaction. Fake dating. That’s all it was ever supposed to be.” My voice breaks on the last word.
“But?” she asks gently.
“But I fell,” I breathe. “And I fell hard.”
She doesn’t interrupt. She doesn’t reach for me right away either. The pause stretches—long enough for me to keep going.
“I didn’t trip,” I say, tears slipping free now. “I didn’t stumble. I fell slowly. Stupidly. In every small moment we spent together.” I scrub at my cheeks. “He never makes me feel like I’m too much—or not enough.” My voice drops to a whisper. “I wasn’t meant to love him. But I do.”
Mom’s eyes shine—not with surprise, but with understanding. “And that scares you.”
“Yes,” I sob. “Because loving him means risking everything. Admitting I want a future I can’t control. Believing I might actually get to keep something good.”
She sets her mug aside, rises from her chair, and sits beside me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. “Nora, you didn’t fall for him by accident.”
I shake my head. “Mom, you don’t understand—”
“Oh, sweetheart. I understand exactly. You fell because he sees you. Because he chooses you without conditions. Because for the first time, love doesn’t feel like sacrifice—it feels like safety.”
My throat tightens. “What if I already messed it up by walking away?”
Her arm tightens around me. “Then you be brave and go to him.”
I draw in a shaky breath. “I don’t know how to be brave. I only know how to be careful.”
Mom presses a kiss to my temple. “Careful keeps you breathing. But being brave will let you live.”
That does it. The tears spill freely now, no holding them back. “I never meant to love him,” I whisper again.
She squeezes my hands. “Most of the best love stories start that way.”
Something vibrates beneath me, and I jolt. My phone. It must have fallen out of my pocket and into the couch cushions. I lean over, dig between them, and pull it out. The screen lights up with a flood of unread messages from Miles.
Miles
Can we talk?
Miles
It’s important.
Tension coils in my stomach—but it’s the text from Lach that steals all the air from the room.
I open it.
Lach
Hey. Random, but thought you should know. Miles got a job offer. A big one. It’s in New Mexico. He leaves tomorrow.
My vision blurs. New Mexico isn’t across town. It isn’t we’ll figure it out. It’s leaving. My heart accelerates like it’s already chasing him. My fingers shake as I type.
Nora
What do you mean he got a job offer?
The typing dots appear. Disappear. Then—
Lach
New Mexico. It sounded serious.
Nora
Is it temporary? Or permanent?
Lach
I don’t know. I’m just the messenger.
I look up, panic clawing its way up my throat. Mom’s eyes are already on me. “What’s wrong, honey?”
“Miles is leaving,” I say, the words breaking as they come out. “Tomorrow.”
Mom doesn’t hesitate. Her voice is calm. “Then go get him.”
And for the first time in my life, I do something brave. I grab my keys and run out the door.
It wasn’t him I didn’t trust. It was happiness. Happiness never stayed. Every time something felt good, something worse followed, so I learned to keep joy at arm’s length. Even when it showed up with Miles’s soft eyes and earnest smile.
If I don’t choose courage now—if I don’t choose him now—I’ll lose him. Not to another woman. Not to bad timing. To my own fear.
Miles’s driveway is empty, and my pulse spikes. “No, no, no,” I mutter, pulling to the curb anyway, like maybe if I sit here long enough, he’ll magically appear.
He doesn’t.
I call Mallory. Straight to voicemail. I dial Melanie next.
“Hey—hi—sorry, I know this is weird,” I rush out the second she answers. “Do you know where Miles is?”
“Uh… no. Why?”
“Okay. Thanks.” I hang up and sit frozen for half a second as panic claws up my spine.
The RC park.
I peel out of the neighborhood and don’t slow down until gravel crunches beneath my tires. Relief slams into me when I spot his SUV—and his stupid drone bumper sticker. I grip the steering wheel, steadying myself, then jump out and jog toward the launch area.
A couple of guys stand near the tables, controllers in hand.
“Excuse me,” I say, breathless. “Miles Kayson. Have you seen him?”
One of them grins. “Yeah. He took the trail.”
“The trail?”
He nods toward the trees. “Back there. Fair warning, he went pretty far in.”
“Thanks.”
I bolt for the tree line, my maxi dress whipping around my legs—an absolutely terrible choice today.
The trail narrows quickly, turning into uneven dirt littered with branches that snap against my arms as I push through.
My lungs burn. My heart pounds. Not just from running—but from the fear that I might be too late.
“Miles!” Nothing. So I keep going. “Miles!” Then—there it is. That familiar hum. I round a bend and spot him in a small clearing, controller in hand, eyes fixed on the sky. The drone arcs smoothly above the trees. He looks calm. And utterly alone.
“Miles,” I say again, softer now.
He turns, and everything shifts. Relief flashes across his face before confusion takes its place.
“Nora?” He lowers the controller but doesn’t move. “What are you—are you okay?”
I nod, even though I’m not. “Yes. No. I don’t know.” My breath stutters. “I heard you’re leaving.”
His jaw tightens. “I got a job offer.”
The words land heavy, but I don’t let myself stop there.
Staying or leaving doesn’t matter, not yet.
I have to say this either way. My fingers curl into the fabric of my dress.
“I was wrong,” I start, then falter. I swallow and try again.
“About the deal. About… all of it.” My voice wobbles.
“About pretending it was just sex. Just fake dating.”
He stays where he is, watching me.
“I kept telling myself it didn’t mean anything,” I say, staring at the ground, nudging a rock with the toe of my sandal. “That if I needed you—even a little—you’d leave. Like everyone else.” My throat tightens. “Like…” I shake my head, breath hitching. “Like my dad.”
Miles takes a step toward me—then stops, his hands flexing at his sides, like he’s fighting the instinct to touch me.
“But the truth is…” I lift my gaze, tears blurring everything but him. “I was already disappearing. Every time I didn’t choose you. Every time I pretended what we had wasn’t real.”
His chest rises once, sharp and controlled, like he’s bracing himself to catch something fragile and heavy at the same time.
“I didn’t lose myself by liking you,” I whisper. “I lost myself by running from it.”
He searches my face, still saying nothing, letting me keep going, which is good, because if he interrupts me now, I might chicken out.
“I was scared,” I rush on. “I still am. But I don’t want to keep choosing fear just because it’s familiar. I don’t want to wake up one day and realize I let the best thing in my life walk away because I didn’t think I deserved it.”
He steps closer. “Nora—”
“I like you,” I cut in, voice shaking but steady enough.
“A lot. Probably more than a lot.” I draw in a deep breath and squeeze my eyes shut.
“There’s a good chance I love you.” When I open them, he’s still there.
Still listening. “I just need you to know,” I finish softly, “that if you leave without me saying how I feel… I’ll regret it for the rest of my life. ”
Miles swallows. “You love me?”
I take the final step between us and nod. “I do. I love you.” My voice wavers, but I don’t pull back. “And I’m terrified.” I hold my hand out between us; it trembles, but I don’t hide it. “But I can’t keep running from the things that scare me.”
Silence stretches. The wind lifts my hair across my face, but I don’t brush it away. I don’t want to look at anything except him.
“You stole my heart the moment you walked away.”
“I know.”
“I chose you when I had no reason to believe you’d choose me back.”
“I know.” I turn my palms up between us. “Here. You can have your heart back.”
He shakes his head. “No. Keep it.” He raises his hands, framing my face. “It’s yours now,” he murmurs. “As long as you don’t run anymore.”
My lips curve into a small, shaky smile. “I won’t.”
He studies me for another long second, as if he’s memorizing the moment. Then the corners of his mouth lift. “I love you.”
And finally, his lips meet mine. This time, I don’t brace to flee. Scared has left the building, and I stay right where I am.
The drone hums somewhere behind us, forgotten. When we part, my forehead rests against his, our breaths mingling together. And for the first time since all of this began, the idea of staying doesn’t feel so scary. This is exactly where I belong.