Page 140 of If Only In Our Dreams

This had been my dream.

Only…I was realizing that I had a new dream now. I had a new dream and he was tall as a mountain, smelled like sandalwood and blossom, and had frankly magical fucking biceps.

“Miles?” I said softly after a minute of quiet, my thoughts spinning.

“Yeah?” Miles kept his tone light, though I could tell he was doing that on purpose—probably could tell from my silence that I was thinking. We’d been through a lot together, Miles and I—and though I hadn’t been the best about communicating with him in recent years, he still knew me better than just about anybody.

“Do you think I’m stupid for wanting to…” I sucked in a breath. “For wanting to leave everything I’ve built behind—because Ben fucking…orchestrated a sledding expedition?”

Miles was quiet for a minute, a minute that felt like a century.

“You know…Gram told me something last year that really struck a chord with me,” he hummed, voice far away. Bubba and Jeremy were quiet, aside from a few rustles. Miles sucked in a breath, similarly to what I’d just done—my giant, dark-haired mirror. “She said: How long are you gonna tell yourself you’re not worthy of the kinda love you want?”

His words echoed around inside my head, twisting tight around my heart.

“I…” My throat clicked.

“Relevant, yeah?” Miles replied, voice quiet. “You remember Margie?”

“’Course I fucking remember Margie.”

“Sweetest dog in the world,” Miles hummed. His hands flexed on the steering wheel, a far off expression on his face. “I told you over and over I’d never have another dog.” My heart thumped wildly. “Now I have two.”

My eyes burned.

“Things change,” Miles said softly. “And when you love someone…losing them is inevitably gonna hurt.” He shrugged. “But…you can’t live your life with one foot out the door. Take it from me—that’snotfuckin’ livin’.” Miles’s voice was sad. “I wish sometimes that I’d wasted less time worrying.” His eyes were warm as he flashed me a smile. “But then I wouldn’t have met Trent when I did. And he came just when I needed him—but only when I was ready to take that leap.”

The car was quiet, the kiddos in the back probably listening intently.

Miles didn’t often talk this much. It was an honor to witness the kind of man my little brother had become. He was stronger now than ever before, and more sure of himself. I was so damn proud of him.

“You’re allowed to grow, Robin,” Miles added. “To change. And sometimes to grow there’s gotta be hurt along the way.”

Itwouldhurt, losing the career I’d built—even if I didn’t love it anymore. But it would hurt more to leave behind the only happiness and peace I’d found. I loved Ben more than I’d ever loved the lights, and the stage, and the music.

I loved our quiet, peaceful moments.

Loved being a source of strength for the twins.

Loved feeling like I had someone to count on.

Loved being someone Ben could lean on when the weight on his broad shoulders grew heavy.

And I couldn’t do that if I wasn’t here. Couldn’t do that if all I gave them was the occasional holiday and scattered FaceTime calls. Couldn’t be the kind of partner—the kind of man—I had always longed to be. Since the day my dad had shown me a cookie-cutter shape of what I didn’t want to become.

I don’t think I’d taken in a full breath since then. Don’t think I’d ever let myself truly relax, knowing what kinda monsters were out there—parading around as people that said they cared.

But that perception had only hurt me, even after the barbs of what my parents had done had been pulled free. I’d let them injure me, over and over, let the wound fester till it consumed me entirely. Till it tainted all my actions. Till I became scared of everyone, good and bad.

Living a shadow life, with only the empty nights for company.

I never let people close because it was easier to run if I didn’t.

Miles was right. That wasn’t a way to live.

And he may not know the extent of what my dad had done, but his words were still applicable. Maybe one day I’d be ready to share that with him. But today was not that day. My thoughts were too full of Ben and the girls—and the what-ifs the future held.

“Good things can be scary,” Miles added. “And sometimes they can be downrightpainful.”

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