I want to show you something, Miles.
I stand up and reach out for his hand. He watches my hand cautiously for a moment before finally reaching for it. His fingers slide through mine, and he squeezes my hand as he stands up. I begin making my way toward the bedroom, and he follows closely behind me.
We reach the bedroom door, and my fingers pause on the doorknob. My heart is heavy. The emotions and everything we went through are surfacing, but I know I have to allow them to surface if I want to help him. I push the door open and walk inside, pulling Miles behind me.
As soon as were inside the room, I feel his fingers tighten around mine. Rachel, he whispers. His voice is a plea for me not to do this. I feel him try to pull back toward the door, but I dont let him. I make him walk to her crib with me.
Hes standing by my side, but I can feel him struggling because he doesnt want to be in here right now.
Hes squeezing my hand so tightly I can feel the hurt in his heart. He blows out a quick breath as he looks down on her. I see the roll of his throat when he swallows, then blows out another steadying breath.
I watch as his free hand comes up and grips the edge of her crib, holding on to it as tightly as the hand thats wrapped around mine. Whats her name? he whispers.
Claire.
His whole body reacts with my response. His shoulders immediately begin to shake, and he tries to hold in his breath, but nothing can stop it. Nothing can stop him from feeling what hes feeling, so I just allow him to feel it. He pulls his hand from mine and covers his mouth to conceal the quick rush of air released from his lungs. He turns and walks swiftly out of the room. I follow him just as fast, in time to see his back hit the hallway wall across from her nursery. He slides to the floor, and the tears begin to fall hard.
He doesnt try to cover them. He pulls his hands through his hair, and he leans his head back against the wall and looks up at me. Thats … He points to Claires nursery and tries to speak, but it takes him several tries to get his sentence out. Thats his sister, he finally says, blowing out an unsteady breath. Rachel. You gave him a sister.
I sink to the floor next to him and wrap my arm around his shoulders, stroking his hair with my other hand. He presses his palms to his forehead and squeezes his eyes shut, crying quietly to himself.
Miles. I dont even try to disguise the tears in my voice. Look at me.
He leans his head back against the wall, but he cant look me in the eyes. Im sorry I blamed you. You lost him, too. I didnt know how else to deal with it back then.
My words completely break him, and Im consumed with guilt over allowing six years to pass without letting him hear those words. He leans over and wraps his arms tightly around me, pulling me against him. I let him hold me.
He holds me for a long time, until all the apologies and forgiveness are absorbed and its just us again. No tears.
I would be lying if I said I never think about what I did to him. I think about it every day. But I was eighteen and devastated, and nothing mattered to me after that night.
Nothing.
I just wanted to forget, but every morning I woke up and didnt feel Clayton by my side, I blamed Miles. I blamed him for saving me, because I had no reason left to live. I also knew in my heart that Miles did what he could. I knew in my heart that it was never his fault, but at that point in my life, I wasnt capable of rational thought or even forgiveness. At that point in my life, I was convinced I wouldnt be capable of anything at all but feeling pain.
Those feelings never wavered for more than three years.
Until the day I met Brad.
I dont know who Miles has, but the familiar struggle in his eyes proves theres someone. I used to see the same struggle every time I looked in the mirror, unsure if I had it in me to love again.
Do you love her? I ask him. I dont need to know her name. Were beyond that now. I know he isnt here because hes still in love with me. Hes here because he doesnt know how to love at all.
He sighs and rests his chin on top of my head. Im scared I wont be able to.
Miles kisses the top of my head, and I close my eyes. I listen to his heart beating inside his chest. A heart hes claiming isnt capable of knowing how to love, but in actuality, its a heart that loves too much. He loved so much, and that one night took it away from us. Changed our worlds. Changed his heart.
I used to cry all the time, I tell him. All the time. In the shower. In the car. In my bed. Every time I was alone, I would cry. For those first couple of years, my life was constant sadness, penetrated by nothing. Not even good moments.
I feel his arms wrap tighter around me, silently telling me he knows. He knows exactly what Im talking about.
Then when I met Brad, I found myself having these brief moments where my life wasnt sad every second of the day. I would go somewhere with him in a car, and Id realize it was my first time in a car without crying at least one tear. The nights we would spend together were the only nights I wouldnt cry myself to sleep. For the first time, this impenetrable sadness that had become me was being broken by the brief, good moments I spent with Brad.
I pause, needing a moment. I havent had to think about this in a while, and the emotions and feelings are too fresh. Too real. I pull away from Miles and lean back against the wall, then rest my head on his shoulder. He tilts his head until its resting against mine and grabs my hand, intertwining our fingers.
After a while, I began to notice that the good moments with Brad began to outweigh all the sadness. The sadness that was my life became the moments, and my happiness with Brad became my life.
I feel him exhale, and I know he knows what Im talking about. I know that whoever she is, hes had those good moments with her.
For the entire nine months I was pregnant with Claire, I was so scared I wouldnt be able to cry from happiness when I saw her. Right after she was born, they handed her to me, just like they did when Clayton was born. Claire looked just like him, Miles. Just like him. I was staring down at her, holding her in my arms, and tears were running down my cheeks. But I was crying good tears, and I realized at that moment that they were the first tears of happiness I had cried since the day I held Clayton in my arms.
I wipe my eyes and let go of his hand, then lift my head off his shoulder. You deserve that, too, I tell him. You deserve to feel that again.
He nods. I want to love her so much, Rachel, he says, breathing out the words like theyve been pent up forever. I want that with her so much. Im just scared the rest of it will never go away.
The pain will never go away, Miles. Ever. But if you let yourself love her, youll only feel it sometimes, instead of allowing it to consume your entire life.
He wraps his arm around me and pulls my forehead against his lips. He kisses me, long and hard, before pulling back. He nods, letting me know that he understands what Im trying to explain to him.
Youve got this, Miles, I say, repeating the same words he used to comfort me with. Youve got this.
He laughs, and its as if I can feel some of the heaviness lift away from him.
You know what I was most afraid of tonight? he asks. I was afraid that when I got here, youd be just like me. He brushes my hair back and smiles. Im so happy youre not. It makes me feel good to see you happy.
He pulls me to him and hugs me tightly. Thank you, Rachel, he whispers. He kisses me gently on the cheek before releasing me to stand up. I should probably go now. I have a million things I want to tell her.
He makes his way down the hallway toward the living room, then turns to face me one last time. I no longer see all the sad parts of him. Now I just see a calmness when I look in his eyes.
Rachel? He pauses, watching me quietly for a moment. A peaceful smile slowly spreads across his face. Im so proud of you.
He disappears from the hallway, and I remain on the floor until I hear the front door close behind him.
Im proud of you, too, Miles.
Chapter thirty-eight
TATE
I close the door to my car and walk to the stairs leading up to the second floor of my apartment complex. Im relieved not to have to use the elevator anymore, but I cant help but miss Cap a little bit, even if his advice didnt make a whole lot of sense to me the majority of the time. It was nice just having him there to vent to. Ive been keeping myself busy with work and school, trying to stay focused, but its been hard.
Ive been in my new apartment for two weeks now, and even though I wish I were alone, I never am. Every time I walk in through my front door, Miles is still everywhere. Hes still in everything, and I keep waiting until hes not. I keep waiting for the day when it will hurt less. When I wont miss him as much.
I would say my heart is broken, but its not. I dont think it is. Actually, I wouldnt know, because my heart hasnt been in my chest since I left it lying in front of his apartment the day I told him goodbye.
I tell myself to take it one day at a time, but its so much easier said than done. Especially when those days turn into nights, and I have to lie in my bed alone, listening to the silence.
The silence was never so loud until I told Miles goodbye.
Im already dreading opening my apartment door, and Im not even halfway up the stairwell yet. I can already tell this night isnt going to be any different from all the other nights since Miles. I reach the top of the stairs and turn left toward my apartment, but my feet stop working.
My legs stop working.
I can feel the thumping of a heart somewhere in my chest again for the first time in two weeks.
Miles?
He doesnt move. Hes sitting on the floor in front of my apartment, propped up against the door. I walk slowly toward him, not sure what to make of his appearance. Hes not in uniform. Hes casually dressed, and the stubble on his face proves he hasnt worked in a few days. Theres also what looks like a fresh bruise under his right eye. Im scared to wake him up, because if hes as belligerent as he was the first time I met him, I dont want to deal with it. But once again, theres no way I can get around him and inside my apartment without waking him up.
I look up and inhale a deep breath, wondering what to do. Im afraid if I wake him up, Ill cave. Ill let him inside, and Ill give him what hes here for, which definitely isnt the part of me I want to give him.
Tate, he says. I look down at him, and hes awake now, pulling himself up, watching me nervously. I take a step back once hes standing, because I forgot how tall he is. How much he becomes everything when hes standing right in front of me.
How long have you been here? I ask him.
He glances down to the cell phone in his hand. Six hours. He looks back up at me. I need to use your restroom pretty bad.
I want to laugh, but I cant remember how.
I turn to my door, and he steps out of the way for me to unlock it.
My trembling hand pushes open the door to my apartment, and I walk inside, then point to the hallway. On the right.
I dont look back at him while he walks in that direction. I wait until the bathroom door closes, and I fall onto the couch and bury my face in my hands.
I hate that hes here. I hate that I let him in without question. I hate that as soon as he walks out of the bathroom, Im going to have to make him leave. But I just cant do this to myself anymore.
Im still trying to gather myself when the bathroom door opens and he walks back into the living room. I look up at him and cant look away.
Something is different.
Hes different.
The smile on his face … the peacefulness in his eyes … the way he carries himself like hes floating.
Its only been two weeks, but he looks so different.
He takes a seat on the couch and doesnt even bother putting space between us. He sits right next to me and leans into me, so I close my eyes and wait for whatever words hes about to say that will hurt me again. Thats all he knows how to do.
Tate, he whispers. I miss you.
Whoa.
I was absolutely not expecting to hear those three words, but they just became my new favorite words.
I and miss and you.
Say it again, Miles.
I miss you, Tate, he says immediately. So much. And its not the first time. Ive missed you every single day we werent together since the moment I met you.
He wraps his arm around my shoulders and pulls me to him.
I go.
I fall to his chest and grab hold of his shirt, squeezing my eyes shut when I feel his lips press against the top of my head.
Look at me, he says softly, pulling me onto his lap to face him.
I do. I look at him. I actually see him this time. Theres no guard up. Theres no invisible wall blocking me from learning and exploring everything about him. Hes allowing me to see him this time, and hes beautiful.
So much more beautiful than before. Whatever changed in him, it was huge.
I want to tell you something, he says. This is so hard for me to say, because youre the first person Ive ever wanted to say it to.
Im scared to move. His words are terrifying me, but I nod.
I had a son, he says quietly, looking down at our hands now laced together. Those three words are delivered with more pain than any three words Ive ever heard.
I inhale. He looks up at me with tears in his eyes, but I remain quiet for him, even though his words just knocked the breath out of me.
He died six years ago. His voice is soft and distant, but its still his voice.
I can tell those words are some of the hardest hes ever had to say. It hurts him so much to admit this. I want to tell him to stop. I want to tell him I dont need to hear it if it hurts. I want to wrap my arms around him and rip the sadness from his soul with my bare hands, but instead, I let him finish.
Miles looks back down at our interlocked fingers. Im not ready to tell you about him yet. I need to do it at my own pace.
I nod and squeeze his hands reassuringly.
I stand up and reach out for his hand. He watches my hand cautiously for a moment before finally reaching for it. His fingers slide through mine, and he squeezes my hand as he stands up. I begin making my way toward the bedroom, and he follows closely behind me.
We reach the bedroom door, and my fingers pause on the doorknob. My heart is heavy. The emotions and everything we went through are surfacing, but I know I have to allow them to surface if I want to help him. I push the door open and walk inside, pulling Miles behind me.
As soon as were inside the room, I feel his fingers tighten around mine. Rachel, he whispers. His voice is a plea for me not to do this. I feel him try to pull back toward the door, but I dont let him. I make him walk to her crib with me.
Hes standing by my side, but I can feel him struggling because he doesnt want to be in here right now.
Hes squeezing my hand so tightly I can feel the hurt in his heart. He blows out a quick breath as he looks down on her. I see the roll of his throat when he swallows, then blows out another steadying breath.
I watch as his free hand comes up and grips the edge of her crib, holding on to it as tightly as the hand thats wrapped around mine. Whats her name? he whispers.
Claire.
His whole body reacts with my response. His shoulders immediately begin to shake, and he tries to hold in his breath, but nothing can stop it. Nothing can stop him from feeling what hes feeling, so I just allow him to feel it. He pulls his hand from mine and covers his mouth to conceal the quick rush of air released from his lungs. He turns and walks swiftly out of the room. I follow him just as fast, in time to see his back hit the hallway wall across from her nursery. He slides to the floor, and the tears begin to fall hard.
He doesnt try to cover them. He pulls his hands through his hair, and he leans his head back against the wall and looks up at me. Thats … He points to Claires nursery and tries to speak, but it takes him several tries to get his sentence out. Thats his sister, he finally says, blowing out an unsteady breath. Rachel. You gave him a sister.
I sink to the floor next to him and wrap my arm around his shoulders, stroking his hair with my other hand. He presses his palms to his forehead and squeezes his eyes shut, crying quietly to himself.
Miles. I dont even try to disguise the tears in my voice. Look at me.
He leans his head back against the wall, but he cant look me in the eyes. Im sorry I blamed you. You lost him, too. I didnt know how else to deal with it back then.
My words completely break him, and Im consumed with guilt over allowing six years to pass without letting him hear those words. He leans over and wraps his arms tightly around me, pulling me against him. I let him hold me.
He holds me for a long time, until all the apologies and forgiveness are absorbed and its just us again. No tears.
I would be lying if I said I never think about what I did to him. I think about it every day. But I was eighteen and devastated, and nothing mattered to me after that night.
Nothing.
I just wanted to forget, but every morning I woke up and didnt feel Clayton by my side, I blamed Miles. I blamed him for saving me, because I had no reason left to live. I also knew in my heart that Miles did what he could. I knew in my heart that it was never his fault, but at that point in my life, I wasnt capable of rational thought or even forgiveness. At that point in my life, I was convinced I wouldnt be capable of anything at all but feeling pain.
Those feelings never wavered for more than three years.
Until the day I met Brad.
I dont know who Miles has, but the familiar struggle in his eyes proves theres someone. I used to see the same struggle every time I looked in the mirror, unsure if I had it in me to love again.
Do you love her? I ask him. I dont need to know her name. Were beyond that now. I know he isnt here because hes still in love with me. Hes here because he doesnt know how to love at all.
He sighs and rests his chin on top of my head. Im scared I wont be able to.
Miles kisses the top of my head, and I close my eyes. I listen to his heart beating inside his chest. A heart hes claiming isnt capable of knowing how to love, but in actuality, its a heart that loves too much. He loved so much, and that one night took it away from us. Changed our worlds. Changed his heart.
I used to cry all the time, I tell him. All the time. In the shower. In the car. In my bed. Every time I was alone, I would cry. For those first couple of years, my life was constant sadness, penetrated by nothing. Not even good moments.
I feel his arms wrap tighter around me, silently telling me he knows. He knows exactly what Im talking about.
Then when I met Brad, I found myself having these brief moments where my life wasnt sad every second of the day. I would go somewhere with him in a car, and Id realize it was my first time in a car without crying at least one tear. The nights we would spend together were the only nights I wouldnt cry myself to sleep. For the first time, this impenetrable sadness that had become me was being broken by the brief, good moments I spent with Brad.
I pause, needing a moment. I havent had to think about this in a while, and the emotions and feelings are too fresh. Too real. I pull away from Miles and lean back against the wall, then rest my head on his shoulder. He tilts his head until its resting against mine and grabs my hand, intertwining our fingers.
After a while, I began to notice that the good moments with Brad began to outweigh all the sadness. The sadness that was my life became the moments, and my happiness with Brad became my life.
I feel him exhale, and I know he knows what Im talking about. I know that whoever she is, hes had those good moments with her.
For the entire nine months I was pregnant with Claire, I was so scared I wouldnt be able to cry from happiness when I saw her. Right after she was born, they handed her to me, just like they did when Clayton was born. Claire looked just like him, Miles. Just like him. I was staring down at her, holding her in my arms, and tears were running down my cheeks. But I was crying good tears, and I realized at that moment that they were the first tears of happiness I had cried since the day I held Clayton in my arms.
I wipe my eyes and let go of his hand, then lift my head off his shoulder. You deserve that, too, I tell him. You deserve to feel that again.
He nods. I want to love her so much, Rachel, he says, breathing out the words like theyve been pent up forever. I want that with her so much. Im just scared the rest of it will never go away.
The pain will never go away, Miles. Ever. But if you let yourself love her, youll only feel it sometimes, instead of allowing it to consume your entire life.
He wraps his arm around me and pulls my forehead against his lips. He kisses me, long and hard, before pulling back. He nods, letting me know that he understands what Im trying to explain to him.
Youve got this, Miles, I say, repeating the same words he used to comfort me with. Youve got this.
He laughs, and its as if I can feel some of the heaviness lift away from him.
You know what I was most afraid of tonight? he asks. I was afraid that when I got here, youd be just like me. He brushes my hair back and smiles. Im so happy youre not. It makes me feel good to see you happy.
He pulls me to him and hugs me tightly. Thank you, Rachel, he whispers. He kisses me gently on the cheek before releasing me to stand up. I should probably go now. I have a million things I want to tell her.
He makes his way down the hallway toward the living room, then turns to face me one last time. I no longer see all the sad parts of him. Now I just see a calmness when I look in his eyes.
Rachel? He pauses, watching me quietly for a moment. A peaceful smile slowly spreads across his face. Im so proud of you.
He disappears from the hallway, and I remain on the floor until I hear the front door close behind him.
Im proud of you, too, Miles.
Chapter thirty-eight
TATE
I close the door to my car and walk to the stairs leading up to the second floor of my apartment complex. Im relieved not to have to use the elevator anymore, but I cant help but miss Cap a little bit, even if his advice didnt make a whole lot of sense to me the majority of the time. It was nice just having him there to vent to. Ive been keeping myself busy with work and school, trying to stay focused, but its been hard.
Ive been in my new apartment for two weeks now, and even though I wish I were alone, I never am. Every time I walk in through my front door, Miles is still everywhere. Hes still in everything, and I keep waiting until hes not. I keep waiting for the day when it will hurt less. When I wont miss him as much.
I would say my heart is broken, but its not. I dont think it is. Actually, I wouldnt know, because my heart hasnt been in my chest since I left it lying in front of his apartment the day I told him goodbye.
I tell myself to take it one day at a time, but its so much easier said than done. Especially when those days turn into nights, and I have to lie in my bed alone, listening to the silence.
The silence was never so loud until I told Miles goodbye.
Im already dreading opening my apartment door, and Im not even halfway up the stairwell yet. I can already tell this night isnt going to be any different from all the other nights since Miles. I reach the top of the stairs and turn left toward my apartment, but my feet stop working.
My legs stop working.
I can feel the thumping of a heart somewhere in my chest again for the first time in two weeks.
Miles?
He doesnt move. Hes sitting on the floor in front of my apartment, propped up against the door. I walk slowly toward him, not sure what to make of his appearance. Hes not in uniform. Hes casually dressed, and the stubble on his face proves he hasnt worked in a few days. Theres also what looks like a fresh bruise under his right eye. Im scared to wake him up, because if hes as belligerent as he was the first time I met him, I dont want to deal with it. But once again, theres no way I can get around him and inside my apartment without waking him up.
I look up and inhale a deep breath, wondering what to do. Im afraid if I wake him up, Ill cave. Ill let him inside, and Ill give him what hes here for, which definitely isnt the part of me I want to give him.
Tate, he says. I look down at him, and hes awake now, pulling himself up, watching me nervously. I take a step back once hes standing, because I forgot how tall he is. How much he becomes everything when hes standing right in front of me.
How long have you been here? I ask him.
He glances down to the cell phone in his hand. Six hours. He looks back up at me. I need to use your restroom pretty bad.
I want to laugh, but I cant remember how.
I turn to my door, and he steps out of the way for me to unlock it.
My trembling hand pushes open the door to my apartment, and I walk inside, then point to the hallway. On the right.
I dont look back at him while he walks in that direction. I wait until the bathroom door closes, and I fall onto the couch and bury my face in my hands.
I hate that hes here. I hate that I let him in without question. I hate that as soon as he walks out of the bathroom, Im going to have to make him leave. But I just cant do this to myself anymore.
Im still trying to gather myself when the bathroom door opens and he walks back into the living room. I look up at him and cant look away.
Something is different.
Hes different.
The smile on his face … the peacefulness in his eyes … the way he carries himself like hes floating.
Its only been two weeks, but he looks so different.
He takes a seat on the couch and doesnt even bother putting space between us. He sits right next to me and leans into me, so I close my eyes and wait for whatever words hes about to say that will hurt me again. Thats all he knows how to do.
Tate, he whispers. I miss you.
Whoa.
I was absolutely not expecting to hear those three words, but they just became my new favorite words.
I and miss and you.
Say it again, Miles.
I miss you, Tate, he says immediately. So much. And its not the first time. Ive missed you every single day we werent together since the moment I met you.
He wraps his arm around my shoulders and pulls me to him.
I go.
I fall to his chest and grab hold of his shirt, squeezing my eyes shut when I feel his lips press against the top of my head.
Look at me, he says softly, pulling me onto his lap to face him.
I do. I look at him. I actually see him this time. Theres no guard up. Theres no invisible wall blocking me from learning and exploring everything about him. Hes allowing me to see him this time, and hes beautiful.
So much more beautiful than before. Whatever changed in him, it was huge.
I want to tell you something, he says. This is so hard for me to say, because youre the first person Ive ever wanted to say it to.
Im scared to move. His words are terrifying me, but I nod.
I had a son, he says quietly, looking down at our hands now laced together. Those three words are delivered with more pain than any three words Ive ever heard.
I inhale. He looks up at me with tears in his eyes, but I remain quiet for him, even though his words just knocked the breath out of me.
He died six years ago. His voice is soft and distant, but its still his voice.
I can tell those words are some of the hardest hes ever had to say. It hurts him so much to admit this. I want to tell him to stop. I want to tell him I dont need to hear it if it hurts. I want to wrap my arms around him and rip the sadness from his soul with my bare hands, but instead, I let him finish.
Miles looks back down at our interlocked fingers. Im not ready to tell you about him yet. I need to do it at my own pace.
I nod and squeeze his hands reassuringly.
