Ugly Love Part 39

He laughs, and it's as if I can feel some of the heaviness lift away from him.

"You know what I was most afraid of tonight?" he asks. "I was afraid that when I got here, you'd be just like me." He brushes my hair back and smiles. "I'm so happy you're not. It makes me feel good to see you happy."

He pulls me to him and hugs me tightly. "Thank you, Rachel," he whispers. He kisses me gently on the cheek before releasing me to stand up. "I should probably go now. I have a million things I want to tell her."

He makes his way down the hallway toward the living room, then turns to face me one last time. I no longer see all the sad parts of him. Now I just see a calmness when I look in his eyes.

"Rachel?" He pauses, watching me quietly for a moment. A peaceful smile slowly spreads across his face. "I'm so proud of you."

He disappears from the hallway, and I remain on the floor until I hear the front door close behind him.

I'm proud of you, too, Miles.

chapter thirty-eight.

TATE.

I close the door to my car and walk to the stairs leading up to the second floor of my apartment complex. I'm relieved not to have to use the elevator anymore, but I can't help but miss Cap a little bit, even if his advice didn't make a whole lot of sense to me the majority of the time. It was nice just having him there to vent to. I've been keeping myself busy with work and school, trying to stay focused, but it's been hard.

I've been in my new apartment for two weeks now, and even though I wish I were alone, I never am. Every time I walk in through my front door, Miles is still everywhere. He's still in everything, and I keep waiting until he's not. I keep waiting for the day when it will hurt less. When I won't miss him as much.

I would say my heart is broken, but it's not. I don't think it is. Actually, I wouldn't know, because my heart hasn't been in my chest since I left it lying in front of his apartment the day I told him good-bye.

I tell myself to take it one day at a time, but it's so much easier said than done. Especially when those days turn into nights, and I have to lie in my bed alone, listening to the silence.

The silence was never so loud until I told Miles good-bye.

I'm already dreading opening my apartment door, and I'm not even halfway up the stairwell yet. I can already tell this night isn't going to be any different from all the other nights since Miles. I reach the top of the stairs and turn left toward my apartment, but my feet stop working.

My legs stop working.

I can feel the thumping of a heart somewhere in my chest again for the first time in two weeks.

"Miles?"

He doesn't move. He's sitting on the floor in front of my apartment, propped up against the door. I walk slowly toward him, not sure what to make of his appearance. He's not in uniform. He's casually dressed, and the stubble on his face proves he hasn't worked in a few days. There's also what looks like a fresh bruise under his right eye. I'm scared to wake him up, because if he's as belligerent as he was the first time I met him, I don't want to deal with it. But once again, there's no way I can get around him and inside my apartment without waking him up.

I look up and inhale a deep breath, wondering what to do. I'm afraid if I wake him up, I'll cave. I'll let him inside, and I'll give him what he's here for, which definitely isn't the part of me I want to give him.

"Tate," he says. I look down at him, and he's awake now, pulling himself up, watching me nervously. I take a step back once he's standing, because I forgot how tall he is. How much he becomes everything when he's standing right in front of me.

"How long have you been here?" I ask him.

He glances down to the cell phone in his hand. "Six hours." He looks back up at me. "I need to use your restroom pretty bad."

I want to laugh, but I can't remember how.

I turn to my door, and he steps out of the way for me to unlock it.

My trembling hand pushes open the door to my apartment, and I walk inside, then point to the hallway. "On the right."

I don't look back at him while he walks in that direction. I wait until the bathroom door closes, and I fall onto the couch and bury my face in my hands.

I hate that he's here. I hate that I let him in without question. I hate that as soon as he walks out of the bathroom, I'm going to have to make him leave. But I just can't do this to myself anymore.

I'm still trying to gather myself when the bathroom door opens and he walks back into the living room. I look up at him and can't look away.

Something is different.

He's different.

The smile on his face . . . the peacefulness in his eyes . . . the way he carries himself like he's floating.

It's only been two weeks, but he looks so different.

He takes a seat on the couch and doesn't even bother putting s.p.a.ce between us. He sits right next to me and leans into me, so I close my eyes and wait for whatever words he's about to say that will hurt me again. That's all he knows how to do.

"Tate," he whispers. "I miss you."

Whoa.

I was absolutely not expecting to hear those three words, but they just became my new favorite words.

I and miss and you.

"Say it again, Miles."

"I miss you, Tate," he says immediately. "So much. And it's not the first time. I've missed you every single day we weren't together since the moment I met you."

He wraps his arm around my shoulders and pulls me to him.

I go.

I fall to his chest and grab hold of his s.h.i.+rt, squeezing my eyes shut when I feel his lips press against the top of my head.

"Look at me," he says softly, pulling me onto his lap to face him.

I do. I look at him. I actually see him this time. There's no guard up. There's no invisible wall blocking me from learning and exploring everything about him. He's allowing me to see him this time, and he's beautiful.

So much more beautiful than before. Whatever changed in him, it was huge.

"I want to tell you something," he says. "This is so hard for me to say, because you're the first person I've ever wanted to say it to."

I'm scared to move. His words are terrifying me, but I nod.

"I had a son," he says quietly, looking down at our hands now laced together. Those three words are delivered with more pain than any three words I've ever heard.

I inhale. He looks up at me with tears in his eyes, but I remain quiet for him, even though his words just knocked the breath out of me.

"He died six years ago." His voice is soft and distant, but it's still his voice.

I can tell those words are some of the hardest he's ever had to say. It hurts him so much to admit this. I want to tell him to stop. I want to tell him I don't need to hear it if it hurts. I want to wrap my arms around him and rip the sadness from his soul with my bare hands, but instead, I let him finish.

Miles looks back down at our interlocked fingers. "I'm not ready to tell you about him yet. I need to do it at my own pace."

I nod and squeeze his hands rea.s.suringly.

"I will tell you about him, though. I promise. I also want to tell you about Rachel. I want you to know everything about my past."

I don't even know if he's finished, but I lean forward and press my lips to his. He pulls me against him so tightly and pushes back against my mouth so hard it's as if he's telling me he's sorry without using words.

"Tate," he whispers against my mouth. I can feel him smiling. "I'm not finished."

He lifts me and adjusts me next to him on the couch. His thumb circles my shoulder as he looks down at his lap, forming whatever words he's needing to say to me.

"I was born and raised in a small suburb just outside of San Francisco," he says, bringing his eyes back up to meet mine. "I'm an only child. I don't really have any favorite foods, because I like almost everything. I've wanted to be a pilot for as long as I can remember. My mother pa.s.sed away from cancer when I was seventeen. My father has been married for about a year to a woman who works for him. She's nice, and they're happy together. I've always kind of wanted a dog, but I've never had one . . ."

I watch him, mesmerized. I watch his eyes as they roam around my face while he talks. While he tells me all about his childhood and his past and how he met my brother and his relations.h.i.+p with Ian.

His hand finds mine, and he covers it as though he's becoming my s.h.i.+eld. My armor. "The night I met you," he finally says. "The night you found me in the hallway?" His eyes dart toward his lap, unable to hold contact with mine. "My son would have been six that day."

I know he said he wants me to listen to him, but right now, I just need to hug him. I lean forward and wrap my arms around him, and he lies back on the couch, pulling me on top of him.

"It took everything I had to try to convince myself that I wasn't falling for you, Tate. Every single time I was around you, the things I would feel terrified me. I had gone six years thinking I had control of my life and my heart and that nothing could ever hurt me again. But when we were together, there were moments I didn't care if I ever hurt again, because being with you almost felt worth the potential pain. Every time I began to feel that way, I would just push you farther away out of guilt and fear. I felt like I didn't deserve you. I didn't deserve happiness at all, because I'd taken it away from the only two people I had ever loved."

His arms tighten around me when he feels my shoulders shaking from the tears making their way out of my eyes. His lips meet the top of my head, and he inhales a steady breath as he kisses me, long and hard.

"I'm sorry it took me so long," he says with a voice full of remorse. "But I'll never be able to thank you enough for not giving up on me. You saw something in me that gave you hope in us, and you didn't give up on that. And Tate? That means more to me than anything anyone's ever done."

His hands meet my cheeks, and he lifts me away from his chest so he can see me face-to-face. "It may be a small piece at a time, but my past is yours now. All of it. Anything you want to know, I want to tell you. But only if you promise me I can also have your future."

The tears cascade down my cheeks, and he wipes them away, even though I don't need him to. I don't care that I'm crying, because they aren't sad tears. Not in the least.

We kiss for so long my mouth starts to hurt as much as my heart. My heart isn't hurting from pain this time, though. It hurts because it's never felt this full.

I trace my fingers across the scar on his jaw, knowing he'll eventually tell me how he got it. I also touch the tender area beneath his eye, relieved that I can finally ask him questions without being scared I'll upset him.

"What happened to your eye?"

He laughs and lets his head fall back against the couch. "I had to ask Corbin for your address. He gave it to me, but it took a lot of convincing."

I immediately lean forward and gently kiss his eye. "I can't believe he hit you."

"Not the first time," he admits. "But I'm pretty sure it'll be the last. I think he's finally okay with us being together after I agreed to a few of his rules."

This makes me nervous. "What rules?"

"Well, for one, I'm not allowed to break your heart," he says. "Second, I'm also not allowed to break your d.a.m.n heart. And last, I'm not allowed to f.u.c.king break your d.a.m.n heart."

I can't contain my laughter, because that sounds exactly like something Corbin would say to him. Miles laughs with me, and we take each other in for several quiet moments. I can see everything in his eyes now. Every single emotion.

"Miles," I say with a smile, "you're looking at me like you fell in love with me."

He shakes his head. "I didn't fall in love with you, Tate. I flew."

He pulls me back to him and gives me the only part of himself that he's never been able to give me until now.

His heart.

chapter thirty-nine.

MILES.

I stand in the doorway of my bedroom and watch her sleep. She doesn't know it, but I do this every morning she's here with me. She's what starts my day off right.

The first time I did this was the morning after I met her. I couldn't remember much from the night before. The only thing I remembered was her. I was on the couch, and she was stroking my hair, whispering, telling me to go to sleep. When I woke up in Corbin's apartment the next morning, I couldn't get her out of my head. I thought she had been a dream until I saw her purse in the living room.

I peeked inside her bedroom just to see if anyone was in the apartment with me. What I felt the moment I laid eyes on her was something I hadn't felt since the moment I first laid eyes on Rachel.

I felt like I was floating. Her skin and her hair and her lips and the way she looked like an angel while I stood there and watched her brought back so many feelings that had become foreign to me over the past six years.

I had gone so long refusing to allow myself to feel anything for anyone.

Not that I could have controlled the feelings I was experiencing toward Tate that day. I couldn't control them if I'd wanted to.

I know, because I tried.

I tried like h.e.l.l.

But the second she opened her eyes and looked at me, I knew. She was either going to be the death of me . . . or she was going to be the one who finally brought me back to life.

The only problem I had with that was the fact that I didn't want to be brought back to life. I was comfortable. Protecting myself from the possibility of experiencing what I had experienced in the past was my only priority. However, there were so many moments when I forgot what my only priority was supposed to be.

When I finally caved and kissed her, that was the point at which everything changed. I wanted so much more after experiencing that kiss with her. I wanted her mouth and her body and her mind, and the only reason I stopped was that I felt myself also wanting her heart. I was good at lying to myself, though. Convincing myself that I was strong enough to have her physically and no other way. I didn't want to get hurt again, and I sure as h.e.l.l didn't want to hurt her.

I did anyway, though. I hurt her so much. More than once. Now I plan to spend a lifetime making it up to her.