Page 52 of If Only In Our Dreams

I swallowed the lump in my throat, eyes burning. Had to look away so he wouldn’t see.

“Why’re you out here alone, anyhow?” I asked him, staring at a crack in the sidewalk while I gathered myself. I was cold. But I was always cold here, so I didn’t pay it much attention.

“Grabbing pastries with Gram,” Miles answered. “She told me to fuck off when she saw you out here.”

“Nice lady,” I laughed, meaning it.

“The nicest,” Miles agreed. He hefted the gallon into the other arm, and I realized, belatedly, that we were kinda just standing here.

“Shit, sorry. I can take that back.” I reached for it, and Miles smacked my hand away with a laugh.

“No offense, but you look like shit. Ain’t no way I’m letting you carry anything.”

“I don’t look like?—”

“Shit warmed over,” Miles continued. “Leftover shit. Microwaved?—”

“Okay,okay. I get it. I look bad. Fuck.”

“You been sleeping at all?” Miles asked. He was the only person I’d told about my insomnia and the sleep deprivation I experienced because of it. I’d maybe left out the bit about passing out sometimes when I got my worst—and what the doctor called “micro sleeps” which were like…eyes-open naps. But still… After Miles’s panicked phone call to Nancy last year—or maybe that was Trent?Didn’t matter,anyway—I’d looped him in on most of my medical…shenanigans eventually.

“My doctor says that getting away from L.A. is supposed to help,” I deflected without answering his question.

We started walking, and Miles fell in stride beside me, shortening his gait so that he wouldn’t totally overpower my Frodo legs.

“Is it helping?” Miles asked.

“I…don’t know,” I admitted. “A bit? Maybe.” When Ben was near.

The sky was overcast now. It’d been sunny earlier. Sunny enough that despite the cold, I’d been sweating a bit as I walked.

“You looked better when you got here,” Miles wheedled.

Better being relative, as I’d looked like shit then too.

“That’s ’cause I slept on the plane.”

“You did?” Miles’s eyes widened. “Really?” He looked way too excited about this.

“Blame Ben’s biceps,” I said without thinking—because again, I was stupid when I was tired.

“What?” Miles blinked.

He blinked again.

“Rewind. Ben’s biceps? What are you talking about?”

“Shut your mouth,” I groaned, so he’d stop staring at me all shocked and appalled. “It’s not that big a deal. We maybe…kinda met on the plane?”

I hadn’t told him this because I’d expected this exact reaction.

“And you slept on his arm?” Miles continued to look stupidly shocked. “But you hate touching strangers.”

That was true, I did.

Our mom had forced us into all manner of uncomfortable social situations when we were little. Enough that we both had our scars from it.

“I guess he’s special,” I admitted as we neared the gate in front of the B&B. The tall building and its picturesque picket fence loomed as we approached. My cheeks felt hot.Everythingfelt hot.

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