Even though the one question, “Why?” was practically burning a hole in my soul, I was still too afraid to ask it. So I’d composed a mental bullet point list of the things we needed to discuss. From what Miles had said, he didn’t have the money to support himself or he wouldn’t have been living with his parents in the first place. Selfishly, I wanted him to stay with me. Even if he didn’t want to stay in my bed beyond last night, I had more than enough room for him to feel like he had control of his own space. And after last night, I hoped he felt comfortable enough to take advantage of what I could offer.

Then there was the topic of his heat. It was a sensitive subject, but I would do anything I needed to give him a safe space that didn’t include the dirty old man his parents had tried to set him up with. If that meant I went to a hotel for a while, fine. I hardly dared hope for something more, though my treacherous mind wouldn’t stop running through the possibilities in the back of my mind.

I set aside my plate and opened my mouth to offer my home to him, but some other part of my brain took over completely. “I’m sorry for being such an asshole that night.”

“Last night?” Miles asked. “You were the complete opposite of an asshole. I would say you were more a knight in shining armor.”

His praise only amplified my guilt. “No, I mean… before.”

His eyes widened and he dropped his head as he comprehended what I was referring to. The silence between us stretched uncomfortably, and I scrambled to find a way to salvage the conversation. I hadn’t intended to dig into that night, not yet.

“I blamed you for a long time,” he admitted, and my heart sunk.

“Rightfully so,” I said. “If I hadn’t been such an ass about you transferring to a better school because I was afraid of losing you, we might have…” I felt a knot growing in my throat. “We might have stayed together. As… as a family. The three of us.” I hadn’t talked about our unborn child since the accident. After Miles actually left school, I hadn’t talked about either of them to anyone.

Miles’s voice was broken as he said, “I would’ve liked that.”

“Me too,” I whispered, clearing my throat. “I don’t expect you to forgive me. I never will. If I hadn’t been such an ass, you wouldn’t have been out that night. But I hope that you can at least give me room in your life to help you. I owe you at least that.”

I dared a glance at Miles and felt my chest rip apart with each shake of his head. I didn’t blame him. Some part of me had expected it, really, but I had dared to hope…

“You’re misunderstanding me,” Miles said. “I don’t blame you for the accident anymore. Every piece of that night is burned into my brain, my memory, the reports, the news footage. It took me a long time to realize that we were just normal people, having a normal fight, with normal feelings and a really shitty communication style. Circumstances were to blame. The asshole who hit me is to blame. You and me? If that hadn’t happened… I like to think we would’ve patched things up soon enough. That we would have made it through a long distance relationship.”

I smiled sadly. “That’s a nice thought, but I know me. I would have fucked it up somehow. Someway.”

I couldn’t bear the sadness in Miles’s eyes. “Do you really think so little of yourself?”

“Look at the evidence, Miles. Facts speak.”

“You want to look at the evidence? Okay fine, let’s look at the evidence. Since that night, what major grievances have you committed against someone you love?”

“None,” I snorted. Maybe whatever happened with Zeke, but since he wouldn’t tell me what it was, I had no clue. “Because I haven’t let anyone close enough to do it again.”

Miles made a buzzer sound. “Irrelevant, then. Let’s look at other ways you’ve fucked up.” His sarcasm was on max. “I mean, look at all the businesses you’ve driven into the ground. The employee’s lives you’ve destroyed because you couldn’t keep your business together.”

His firm confidence was wearing my walls down. I burst from my seat, unable to contain the energy shaking my limbs and began to pace. “That’s not the same.”

“Bullshit,” Miles said, tears spilling over his cheeks as he stood to confront me, blocking my path and pushing up into me. “I can’t handle this ridiculous image you have of yourself as poison. You believed in me in a way no one else had before. You were my everything. And then you were gone. You left. You said you never wanted to see me again. That’s what I couldn’t forgive. You—”

As my brain caught up with what he was saying, I realized something had gone horribly wrong. I hadn’t said that. I wasn’t the one who had left! But instead of asking what he meant, whatever he was going to say next, I swallowed with a kiss, the taste of our tears on our lips a bitter contrast to the sweetness of his mouth on mine, and for a moment, I felt peace.