Page 238 of Tell Me Something True

And come out stronger on the other side.

Breath held, she waited. Here it came. Any minute now.

Instead, he nodded again, then turned to go.

She scrambled to the edge of the bed so quickly, her phone slid off her lap to the floor. She swiped it up. “Aren’t you going to yell at me?”

He stilled. And when he faced her, she could have sworn she saw hurt in his eyes, which only added to the guilt she’d felt all freaking day.

But when he spoke, his tone was mild and not the least bit offended. “I hadn’t planned on it.”

“Why on earth not?”

“Do you want me to yell at you?” he asked with a confused frown.

Setting her phone on the table, she rolled her eyes. “Hardly.”

Another nod, the man was like a bobblehead tonight. “Okay then.”

“Is this all part of you letting me make my own mistakes so I can learn from them?” she asked when he started to turn again. “Because, in case you haven’t noticed, I’ve got the making mistakes part down, but not the learning from them thing. One of you might want to step in here and take control of this situation before I end up in prison. Or worse. A politician.”

His lips twitched as if she was just sooo funny.

“Can’t have that,” he said, crossing the room. He inclined his head at the spot next to her with a questioning look. She shrugged and he sat down. Bella came over and set her head on his thigh. “I was your age when mom and dad died.”

She stared at him, her heart in her throat. And not just because this was not the topic of conversation she thought they’d have.

But because Miles never talked about that time in their lives.

Yeah, he, along with the rest of her brothers—Urban and Toby especially—told her stories about their parents. How their dad loved eighties hair bands and peanut butter and dill pickle sandwiches which… yuck. That their mom was an excellent gardener and made the best homemade apple pie in town. Little things to help Verity feel connected to the people she’d come from.

The people she barely remembered.

But Miles never talked about their deaths or what happened during those first few months after the accident.

“And until recently,” he continued, “I didn’t remember what it was like when I was that age. What I was like.”

Turning toward him, she bent the leg nearest him underneath her. “What were you like? No, don’t tell me. I can picture it clearly. You had perfect attendance. Narced on kids passing notes, and in your free periods, you were a volunteer hallway monitor, handing out tardy slips with gleeful abandon.”

He scratched the side of his head. “The way your brain works scares the shit out of me sometimes. You know that, right?”

She shrugged. “It’s a gift.”

One none of her brothers seemed to appreciate.

Except Toby. Nothing bothered that man.

“Actually, I was a lot like you.”

With a snort, she ducked her head. Picked at a thread hanging from the frayed bottom of her shorts. “Messed up and stupid and scared of everything?”

“Pretty much.”

She glanced at him from under her lashes to see if he was teasing her, but he looked perfectly serious. “Nuh uh.”

He shrugged, as if it was no big deal to find out that one of her brothers, this one especially, was fallible and human. Or at least, had been at one time.

“I messed up plenty and got into trouble plenty and no,” he said, when she opened her mouth, “I’m not going to tell you about those times. But it seemed I was scared about everything. About going to Pitt, even though it’s basically down the road. Afraid of a new routine. Of not knowing anyone and not making any friends. Afraid I was going to miss Mom and Dad and you all.” He glanced at her. “Afraid to grow up.”

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