Ugly Love: A Novel(84)

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 space 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 shirt, 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.”