Page 99 of Promise Me Sunshine

“Are you going to come with me into the basement, then?”

“Yeah, right! Obviously where the murderer is.”

“Oh, great. Just a little something for me to meditate on while I fix the power.”

Thunder earthquakes the house and we both jolt. Miles sighs. “Come on. Let’s get you settled.”

I don’t know the house well, so I stumble and grope into the dark for Miles’s back. I get a face full of sopping wet suit.

“Sorry,” I mumble, and feel for the wall.

I jump when his hand lands on the top of my head. “There you are. Here, take my hand.”

I reach up and peel his hand off my hair and wrap all ten of my fingers around his warm palm.

He leads us down the hall and swings a door open. A fluffy towel lands on my head. “Where’s your bag?”

“In the bathroom where I showered earlier. But all my clothes are muddy.”

“Right. Okay.” He closes the closet door and leads me out of the hallway and across the living room. We go into what must be his bedroom.

Lightning—scream—thunder and I get one vivid flash of a giant comfy bed and another fireplace.

He opens some drawers. “I don’t know what clothes these are, but here. They’re not muddy.”

It’s a pile of soft cotton and I’m overjoyed. I carefully turn toward the bed and set the warm clothes down for safekeeping.

I strip the wet dress up over my head and it thwacks onto the ground. I hear him rustling around next to me. Lightning, thunder, a flash of Miles standing next to me, next to a bed, in nothing but tight boxer briefs.

Lightning, thunder, tattoo.

Lightning, thunder, his head turned halfway toward me.

My wet bra is off, the clean shirt in my hands, my back is to him, lightning, thunder. I feel the flash of light over my entire body, touching me everywhere. I’ve got goosebumps.

I turn back toward him, the lightning flashes, and his bare chest is suddenly within kissing distance and the thunder shakes me down to my bones. Then it’s ferociously dark again and there’s a wash of warm exhale over my upturned face.

I hear him move and the towel is pressed into my hands again. “Your hair is wet.” His voice is low and calm. “I’m gonna get a fire going in the living room to keep you company while I’m in the basement.”

I barely get hold of the back of his shirt and then we’re carefully picking our way through the dark out to the living room. I sit on the floor, knees tented underneath the giant shirt, and listen while he muscle-memories a crackling fire. The light is sudden, friendly and welcome and warm. We’re awash in gold.

Just then, an alert on our phones, the power is out countywide. So much for trying the breakers. I make a nest of pillows and blankets in front of the fire, and Miles joins me with a groan.

“Longest day ever,” he says, yawning. He’s on his belly, head toward the fire, chin resting on the backs of his stacked hands.

“You did great.”

He laughs. “I did decidedly okay.”

“Okay is great in this scenario. You were brave and kind. What more could you ask for?”

He tips his head and studies me. I study him back.

He hides. In here. He needs a really gentle touch.

“Miles?”

“Yeah?”

---