Page 70 of Family Like This

She’s going to be okay.

She has to be.

Amelia

There’s something about the sound of hot water being poured over a tea bag that’s comforting to me. I’ve never been a coffee drinker. My parents both drank tea growing up, so I did too. We had an entire cabinet of teas, including a bunch of fruity herbal ones I was obsessed with as a kid. Now I like stronger, darker flavors most of the time. Right now, it’s decaf—not that I drink a ton of caffeine anyway. Outside of caffeine water, it often bothers my stomach. Right now, I’m obsessed with a decaf black tea with vanilla in it. It smells like dessert, and it’s warm and comforting.

Footsteps pad down the hall and I turn, glimpsing Miles stretching and yawning. I take in the way his biceps flex and the hint of his ab muscles peeking out from under the hem of his shirt. He’s adorable. And so damn sexy. He catches me staring and strolls over, pushing some black hair out of his face. Even his mussed morning hair is gorgeous.

“Hey, baby,” he rumbles, giving me a hard kiss and slipping his hand inside my robe to run it over my stomach. He pulls away and leans back, then undoes the ties of my robe. He gets a huge smile on his face when he takes in my bump. Because thereisa bump now. “You popped.” Before I can say anything, he grabs me and kisses me again. “That is so fucking sexy,” he mutters against my lips.

He lifts me onto the counter and steps between my legs, deepening our kiss as his tongue twists with mine. We’re still learning how to live together and generally be in a relationship together, but this is easy. This hasalwaysbeen easy.

His phone vibrates in his pocket, buzzing against the counter, and he groans. “Ugh. Hold that thought.” He pulls his phone out and his brows immediately dip in.

“Who is it?”

“Sarah,” he says, voice shaky. “She rarely calls me.”

I take his hand as he answers. “Sarah, what’s going on?” He listens for a moment, his breaths growing shorter and faster. “Which hospital? Yeah, okay. I’m on my way. Love you too. Bye.”

When he hangs up, he’s panting.

“What’s wrong?”

“Rae—” He stops and forces out a few breaths, knuckles pressing into the kitchen counter. “Aaron woke up to Rae covered in blood. They don’t know what’s happening. They’re on their way to the hospital. We need to go.” His words are choppy as he finishes his sentence. He turns to walk out of the room, but I grab his arm.

“Are you having a panic attack?”

He swallows and shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter. We need to go. I need to be there for them.”

“Miles.” I yank on his arm.

“Ames, please.”

“No. You’re having a panic attack and you can’t just will it away.”

“I’ve done it before. This is more important.”

“What’s important is dealing with this.”

“I can deal with it later.”

“No. You can’t. You can try to push it away, but it’ll fester and get worse. Face this now, and let me help you.” I step forward and run my hand over his cheek. “Let me help.”

His breathing grows heavier, his breaths choppier. “When I give in—it gets worse.”

I take his hands in mine and hold them tightly. “Close your eyes.”

“Ames,” he pleads, but I won’t let him try to muscle through this. It’ll only hurt him more in the long run. He’s gotten used to going it alone—or trying to—but if I’ve had to learn to let him in, he has to learn to do the same.

“Close them. Listen to my voice, babe. I’m right here. I’ve got you. You’re safe. Tell me where you are right now.”

“Our apartment.”

“What do you feel?”

“The hard floor.” He breathes out. “Your hands wrapped around mine.”

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