Just a Bit Dirty (Straight Guys #10)(55)

It felt like he was in some kind of dream as he gathered his things into his suitcase and left the house. He thought he said goodbye to Winifred, but he wasn’t sure. He could barely even remember the Uber drive to the airport or how long he waited for the next flight to London. It could have been minutes, but it could have been hours too; he didn’t know. Miles was vaguely aware that he was in some kind of shock. Everything felt disjointed, surreal. The world didn’t make sense. The world without Ian didn’t make sense. But that was the world he would be living in now.

Miles fell into an exhausted sleep as soon as the plane took off.

When he opened his eyes hours later, he found himself incredibly disoriented. He stared at the back of the seat in front of him, trying to process how he’d ended up on the plane. His mind came up blank. He felt strange on the inside. Numb. Maybe it was for the best. One breakdown a day was more than enough.

He might have drifted off again because the next thing he knew the plane was landing and he was one of the last people to get off of it.

Miles got his luggage and went through the passport control in some kind of daze. Everything still felt surreal, dream-like. His head was pounding. The jet lag didn’t help either. His stomach hurt from being empty, but he didn’t feel hungry. The mere thought of food made him nauseous.

Miles staggered into a cab, told the driver Zach’s address, and stared out the window at the familiar London landscape. He tried to summon some excitement and happiness at finally being home. There was none. Just the sense of wrongness. At least he didn’t feel like breaking into tears anymore. Numbness was good. Numbness was welcome.

When he got out of the cab, Miles just stared at the familiar house for a moment. He used to think of it as home, but it felt like the bloke that had left this house a few months ago was a completely different person from who he was now.

Slowly, feeling like an old man, Miles walked toward the house, dragging his suitcase behind him.

He knocked.

When no one opened, he belatedly realized that he hadn’t told anyone about his return. It was possible that there was no one home. It was pretty late in the morning. Zach and Tristan had likely gone for their morning runs.

Miles eyed his suitcase, trying to remember if he’d packed his keys into it, but unpacking it seemed like too much of an effort right now. He didn’t want to do it. He didn’t want to do anything.

“Miles?”

Flinching, Miles turned his head. He forced a weak smile when he saw his brother-in-law. He had been right, after all: Tristan was in his running clothes, and he looked sweaty and breathless. In the distance, Miles could see Zach jogging at a more sedate pace.

“Hi, Tris,” Miles said, trying to shake off his numbness and act like normal. “Surprise?”

Tristan laughed and clasped his shoulder. “I’m glad you’re back. That one was about to go to America and drag you back home,” he said with a chuckle, pointing at his approaching husband.

“Aw, did you miss me?” Miles said, smiling at his eldest brother. It hurt his cheeks.

Zach snorted. “Like a headache,” he said. “It’s good to have you back, kiddo,” he said gruffly, pulling him into a hug.

Miles closed his eyes, breathing in his brother’s familiar scent that had always reminded him of home and security. It still did—and it didn’t.

A sound tore out of his throat, a horrible, choked sound.

Zach stiffened. “Miles?” he said, his voice losing all traces of humor.

Miles tried to breathe through it. He wasn’t going to cry, he wasn’t a baby, he wasn’t going to cry. Except his eyes were burning, and all he could do was hide his face against his brother’s wide chest as his body shuddered in silent sobs.

Part of him, the adult part, was mortified. He was no longer the child who’d run to his big brother every time he scraped his knee. He was an adult. He should know better than this. But the childish part of him was irrational enough to feel like Zach would fix it, would fix everything; he always had after all.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” Zach said harshly.

The tone hit Miles like a punch to the gut. For a moment, Zach sounded almost like... Almost, but not quite right. Nothing was fucking right.

“Never mind,” Miles croaked out, pulling away and wiping his face with his sleeve. He could meet neither his brother’s eyes nor Tristan’s. “I guess I just missed you all.” He smiled brightly. “Where are the others?”

“Miles—” Zach started, frowning, but Tristan, bless him, cut him off.

“Ryan and Jimbo should come for dinner,” he said, steering Miles inside the house. “Why don’t you go lie down in your room until their arrival? You must be jet-lagged like hell.”

Miles nodded gratefully, feeling a rush of fondness for him. For all of Tristan’s obnoxiousness, he was actually pretty sweet under all the snark. Tristan was very good at reading people. He could likely feel how close to a breaking point Miles was right now.

Miles shut the door to his bedroom and sagged against it.

He looked around the room, as if seeing it for the first time. It all seemed so surreal. He didn’t feel like the positive, laid-back guy who’d left this room several months ago. He didn’t think he fit in this room anymore.

Slowly, he walked to the bed, slipped between the sheets, and closed his eyes.