Page 28 of Jordan’s Breakthrough (Unexpected Love #3)

“Damn. That’s crazy.”

“Are you from here, then?” Piper continues.

“No, actually. We’re both from a small town near Detroit.” Miles glances at Pete, as if unsure how much he should reveal.

Pete clears his throat. “The short story is, my marriage fell apart when I fell in love with Andy. I tried to stay with my wife, but it wasn’t right when my heart was with someone else.

So, I left her and moved here to start over.

” Shame colors his features, but he trudges on.

“That decision kind of shoved me out of the family, though, so Miles and I haven’t seen or spoken to each other in years.

We used to be close back in the day, but when my life changed…

Anyway, I’m sorry, man. I should’ve been better about keeping in touch. ”

“You weren’t shoved out, Uncle Pete. We always wanted you around. Even my mom,” Miles says softly. “She misses you.”

Pete lowers his gaze, clearly pained. “Yeah. I know. I need to call her, don’t I?”

“You should.” Miles gives him a stern look. “What do you think she’s going to say if I let it slip we’ve run into each other? She’s going to flip out.”

“Let it slip, huh? Does she even know that you’re here? Or that you’re seeing your boyfriend?”

Miles blushes. “That’s… no! That’s different!”

Everyone laughs.

Pete swallows hard. “I’ll call her.”

After a moment, Declan raises his beer. “Well, here’s to good friends and found family! I’m glad we’re all here.”

Everyone joins in.

While the conversation drifts to other topics, I go inside to get the cake.

Miles quickly joins me, folding his arms around my waist from behind.

I look over my shoulder. “Having fun?”

“Yes. I like your family.”

I glance out the window. “Yeah, they’re good people.”

His smile fades a little and his voice lowers. “Can we leave soon, though? I want to be alone with you again.”

His tone says what I already feel. Our time is quickly running out. Less than twelve hours until his plane leaves.

“Why do you think I came in for cake?”

Miles helps me serve, then we all enjoy one last hurrah with the group before leaving. Piper hugs Miles, pleading with him to stay in touch.

We’re quiet when we get in the car, and Miles avoids looking at me. Like he’s barely holding it together. I reach for his hand, deciding home isn’t where I want to be after all. I’m not ready.

Instead, I just… drive.

When he sees I’ve skipped the turn off for my RV park, Miles asks, “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

I pull into a parking lot by the beach and open my door. “Come on. Let’s go for a late-night walk.”

The sand is cool under our bare feet, packed firm near the waterline. We walk slowly, like if we move slow enough, we can stop time. Miles draws lines in the sand with a stick, and the moon dances high in the sky, reflecting like a snowy orb in the water.

He links our hands, brushing his thumb against my skin in slow, absent circles. It’s peaceful, and quiet. But it also aches.

Miles flies out tomorrow at 6:30 a.m., which means he needs to be at the airport even earlier. We’ll wake up in the dark, say a groggy goodbye in the driveway, and then I’ll drive him to the airport.

Suddenly, I’m afraid. What if his leaving shatters every good and perfect anchor we’ve made these last few days? Can I handle it?

I glance over at him. He’s watching the water, his curls moving gently in the breeze. He seems to glow under the moonlight, as if lit from the inside out.

“Thank you,” I say quietly. “For coming to me.”

His face crumples. “Jord, don’t. Please. I can’t. Not yet.”

I can’t either. Not now, not ever. I have no fucking clue how I’m going to see him off.

I squeeze his hand, and he squeezes back. We’ll talk about the future later then, over long phone calls and awkward video chats with our cats knocking over our phones. We’ll figure it out. I have to believe it.

But not tonight.

Tonight is for this. Walking and kissing and sneaking in every last hug before he boards the plane.

When we finally head home, the house is still and dim. Clematis meets us at the door, blinking slowly like she just woke up. She stretches out, then pads over to Miles. He braces himself for her usual dismissal, but instead she rubs against his leg.

Miles blinks at me, stunned, then crouches low to pet her, and Clematis leans right into it, meowing softly. After a moment, Miles scoops her up. She doesn’t fight it, bumping her forehead against his chin.

“Oh. My. God,” he whispers. “Finally.”

I laugh and scratch Clem, grateful she’s finally warmed up to him, even if it’s a bit too late. Or maybe right on time.

Miles cuddles her for a long while, carrying her to the bed and sitting on the end. Clematis purrs loudly, treating him like she’s done this all alone.

My eyes burn. Fuck. This room is going to be so empty when he’s not in it. Clematis won’t know what hit her when her new favorite person disappears.

I slip into the bathroom to brush my teeth. When I get out, Miles is already naked and pulling back the sheets.

I hesitate.

He shakes his head subtly, like he already knows I don’t have energy. Maybe he figured it out when I stopped playing games. The crash is inching in, fast.

“I just want to hold you,” Miles says.

And he means it. There’s no disappointment in his voice. Just that same steady warmth he’s carried all weekend.

We crawl into bed, a tangled mess of limbs and soft blankets. It may as well have been a twin-sized bed for how close we are. Through the cracked window, I can hear the ocean if I listen closely enough. His arm is around me, one hand splayed across my chest like he’s keeping track of my heartbeat.

After a long silence, he says quietly, “Your tattoo.”

I blink down at my left wrist, barely visible in the dark. “What about it?”

“I keep meaning to ask about it, since it’s the only one you have.”

“Oh. I got it a few weeks after I almost…” I pause. “After that day.”

He curls in tighter.

“My therapist. She… she taught me to look for anchors. The little things that hold me steady when my mind drifts away, or when I get lost in the darkness. To cling to them when it’s hard. I got the tattoo as a reminder to look for them. I had to train myself to see them.”

Miles runs his fingers over the ink. “Does it work?”

“Yeah. It’s the only thing that’s ever really worked.”

Miles doesn’t say anything, just presses his lips to my shoulder.

I close my eyes and sift through dozens, if not hundreds, of anchors Miles has helped me find this weekend.

The list is endless. From him showing up at the bar to our first kiss.

To that first time we had sex in the car.

Last night on the cliffs. And again as we made love.

I think about that moment at the barbecue, watching him with my friends.

How perfectly he fit in… and the words that had settled in my heart.

The sweetest anchor. That’s definitely him. That’s definitely Miles. My sweetest anchor.

A poem forms in my head somewhere between awake and asleep.

And with Miles breathing steadily beside me, his hand still resting over my heart, I let the words carry me under.