Page 152 of Rock Me All Night
He squeezes my hands. "After my twentieth fight, we made a deal. He'd buy me one more guitar if I agreed to be brave and confront how much it hurt to lose my mom. I could wail on that guitar all day. I could scream my lungs out, write a song that was nothing but 'Fuck Simon.' That was my father's name. But if I got in trouble, even one more time, that was it. I was going to boarding school."
"And?"
"And that was it. I wrote a song about it. I felt a little better. Every time I wanted to hit someone, I wrote a song instead."
I hug my chest. "How did you start doing drugs?"
"It wasn't a problem at first. Or at least I didn't think it was. I liked the way it relaxed me. Made me calm. Made me feel like I didn't have to take on the world. But it became a habit. Tom confronted me. I slowed down enough that I could hide it. But when Damon got cancer… I freaked. Ran from it. I couldn't go five minutes sober. Couldn't deal with those thoughts." He rubs my shoulders. "That's how I know you're strong, Meg. You confront your pain headfirst. You never come close to buckling."
"I can't say that anyone has ever complimented me for not doing drugs before." I laugh.
"I really do love your laugh."
"I love yours too." I really do.
He shifts back to the serious tone. "I only stopped because Tom threatened to kick me out of the band, and I didn't want my uncle to die thinking I was that same stupid kid who kept running away."
My heart pounds against my chest. Miles went through so much.
Be brave, live.
This isn't the kind of pain that goes away with a few hugs and kisses. I can't take away his. He can't take away mine. We're both stuck until we find our way out.
He lowers his voice to a whisper. "I was in rehab when he died. That was the part that hurt the most, that he was alone because I was kept stewing in self-pity."
"But you weren't stewing anymore. You were confronting it head on."
"Yeah. Maybe." He slides a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you about my recovery. At first, I didn't think this would be serious enough it would matter. By the time I realized how much you hurt, how much you've been through, I wasn't afraid I'd lose you if I told you."
I hug myself a little tighter. "Okay."
"It's not a good excuse. I was wrong. And I really am sorry."
"Thank you." I stare into Miles's eyes, at all the pain I can't take away. I want to forgive him, I do. But my heart isn't there yet.
"I like you, Meg. I really do. And I'm pretty sure you like me, too."
"I do, but—"
"No but." He takes my hands and pulls my body into his. "That's all we need to know."
He's warm, and it feels damn good being pressed against him. But that tension is still in my chest.
I take a step backwards. "I'm sorry. I understand why you lied, but I'm not sure I'm ready to trust you yet. I want to. But it's not there right now. I don't feel it."
"Could you?"
"I don't know. But Miles, I want to be with someone who loves me, who wants to share his feelings with me because he loves me and trusts me, and not because it's the only way he can win me over."
He considers my words like they're poetry. "I can do that."
"Maybe. But it doesn't feel like it to me." I pull the jacket tight around my chest. The neighboring street is wide and clean and completely empty. "Can you take me home?"
"Yeah." He presses his palm into the small of my back. "I really am sorry."
"Me too."
In more ways than one.
