Page 78 of Falling

“Reservations?” I asked. Miles had said he wanted to take me to dinner, but I’d figured we’d go somewhere in town and I wasn’t sure anywhere in town actually took reservations. Not for a table for two, anyway.

Maybe this was what Miles had been upset about earlier? But then why wouldn’t he just tell me? If he was dragging me somewhere for my help, he knew he could just ask. I’d never said no to him yet, and I wasn’t planning to start now.

Either way, he was too busy searching his cupboards to answer.

“Ah ha!” Miles cried out in triumph, producing a heavy crystal vase that looked like the kind of thing people gave each other as wedding gifts in the mid-80s. The kind that could take a burglar out with one blow. “This was here when I arrived. It’s not one of Seth’s family heirlooms, is it?”

I snorted, despite my ongoing confusion. “Doubtful. He comes from a long line of people with better taste.”

“I believe that,” Miles responded, filling the vase from the faucet. He took a moment to arrange the flowers in it on the counter in pride of place.

“These are beautiful,” he said between final touches. “Thank you. Must’ve been hard to get at this time of night on a Tuesday.”

“Perks of being universally beloved in town. I’ll owe Dawn babysitting or something. Not that she ever runs out of offers. I’m not gonna get to do anything for that kid until it’s fifteen.”

“And you’ll still be here?” Miles asks. “When it is?”

I shrugged. “Why wouldn’t I be? Where else would I go? Nowhere else ever felt like home.”

Miles nodded, prodding one last flower into position and stepping back to admire his work.

“Perfect,” he said, drawing a long breath. “Okay. Take me to your chariot?”

“The truck, you mean?” I asked.

Miles smiled at me. It was a real smile, but there was something… off, about it. Nerves, maybe? I still wanted to know what the hell was wrong, but I didn’t want to push. He’d tell me in his own time.

Wouldn’t he?

You can tell me anything, you know hovered on the tip of my tongue, but I stopped myself. That was too pointed, and giving him time and space had worked so far. No sense trying to fix what wasn’t broken.

No sense rushing Miles for the sake of my anxiety about what was going on. I was a big boy. I could handle a little uncertainty.

“The truck,” he agreed. “You haven’t figured this out yet, have you?”

I shook my head. No. No I had not.

Miles sighed, approached me, and then reached out and took both of my hands. “I thought we’d have that first date,” he said. “Like you imagined it. Dinner, dessert, dancing, drinks…”

“Dick,” I finished for him with a grin, remembering now how I’d told him that was what I would’ve done if I’d known I had any chance with him at all. He’d remembered.

Was that all? Was that what he was nervous about?

Miles laughed, squeezing my hands. “If you’re good. I think it started with the bench seat in your truck? Where we’re not allowed to snuggle up together on the way there, for some reason.”

“Weeeell…” I looked him up and down, a smile tugging at my lips. I couldn’t look at him without smiling. “I don’t know if I can resist a little snuggling. And you’re the one who made the reservations, so you’ve gotta be close enough to give me directions.”

Miles beamed up at me. There was still something lurking in his eyes, worry written in the lines around them, but the smile was genuine. It wasn’t anything I’d done, I figured, which was a relief.

Anything else, we could figure out.

“Then what are we waiting for?” he asked.

“Nothing at all,” I said, dropping his hands reluctantly to stride over to the door and hold it open for him. “Your chariot awaits.”

27

MILES