Page 165 of Tell Me Something True

“Do you want to get that?” Tabitha asked.

“Hell no.”

Ignoring his phone, he reached around to set the bag on the floor behind her seat. Took the opportunity to peek inside and noted the reason it was so heavy was because she’d bought four bottles of wine.

Straightening, he raised his eyebrows at her in a silent question and she blushed.

“I didn’t know what to get. I don’t know anything about wine, so I just sort of guessed.”

“I’m sure they’re all good,” he assured her.

And if Toby pulled any of his wine-snob bullshit, Miles really would kick his fucking ass.

She nodded but didn’t look convinced. She dropped her hand to her lap where she was twisting the fingers of both hands together.

“Hey.” He covered her hands with his. Squeezed gently. “It’ll be okay. It’s just dinner.”

“Just dinner for you, maybe,” she muttered, staring down at his hand on hers. As if uncertain whether to let him continue to keep it there, offering her some small measure of comfort.

Or yank her hands free and get through this moment like she’d gotten through everything else in her life.

On her own.

He got it. She didn’t trust him. Not fully. Not yet.

His fault for holding back. For not trusting her, either.

“I’ve never brought a woman to family dinner before,” he admitted gruffly.

She pulled her left hand free, turned her right hand and linked her fingers with his. “I’ve never gone to a man’s family dinner before.”

It was a start, these small confessions to each other.

The start of what, he wasn’t sure. Or maybe he just wasn’t ready to define it.

It felt like he was on the cusp of something. Something big and terrifying. Something bright and shiny and new.

Something just out of his reach.

The past was like a noose around his neck that tightened each time he tried to take a step forward. The mistakes he’d made holding him back.

All the things he should have said choking him.

His heart started to pound. His head buzzed. His fingers tingled and prickled.

“I should have brought you home with me,” he managed. “When we were together before.”

“Miles,” she said, noticing his distress. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to.” But it came out rushed, his breathing shallow. “I need to.”

But he couldn’t do it alone.

Rubbing his free hand over the growing tightness in his chest, he faced her. “Will you help me?”

Gaze soft, she leaned over and cupped his cheek. “Always.”

Chapter 32

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