The Best Next Thing

“Goddamnit, Charity, you’re not the only one who—” His hand sliced through the air, a sudden, vicious movement that came out of nowhere, and Charity flinched reflexively, covering her head with her arms.

It was an instinctive reaction, made in response to the movement and not the man. And she uncurled from her protective huddle within seconds. Feeling sheepish for the overreaction to what she had always known was just an angry gesture, she lifted her eyes, her immediate instinct to apologize to Miles. But he was staring at her fixedly, his throat working, his eyes wide, his skin deathly pale.

He looked wrecked and wretched. “I wasn’t going to…I would never…”

That he felt the need to explain broke her heart. As if she would ever believe he would hurt her.

As if he could.

“No, Miles. Of course, you wouldn’t. I’m sorry. It wasn’t you. I just reacted to the sudden movement.”

“I wouldn’t hurt you.” He looked dazed, hurt, shocked.

“I know.” She took his hand and squeezed it, wanting to reassure him. “Miles. I know that. Okay? This is not a you thing. This is very much a me thing. And one of the countless things I have to fix about myself. I mean, we can’t even have a decent argument without me flaking out on you. That’s not normal, Miles, and it’s on the long list of reasons this has to end. Sooner rather than later.”

He didn’t respond. His eyes still had that harrowing, hollow look in them, and Charity wasn’t sure if anything she said now could improve the situation.

“I have to get Stormy,” he murmured, turning away stiffly.

“Miles…” His name was a miserable whisper on her lips. Not loud enough for him to hear and turn back.

But it was probably better if he didn’t turn back. If he never turned to her again.

She stifled a sob and screwed her eyes shut.

Inhaled deeply, threw back her shoulders…

And continued on.

For the first time in over two weeks, they did not share a bed. And Miles found himself unable to sleep because of it.

He missed her. Missed the way she hogged the covers, and that adorable snorting snuffle on every third breath. He missed her warmth, and the way she often curled up tightly against his side, crowding him almost off the bed. He had quickly grown accustomed to her presence, and not having her next to him felt wrong.

The pain of loss was intolerable. And it was made worse by his recognition that this was how the next thousand nights would be. And the thousand after that.

This was what all his nights would be like.

He would be alone. Lonely. Lost.

Forever…

He sat up in bed, propping himself up against the headboard to stare into the black, desolate void of the night. The perfect canvas against which to replay the tormenting memory of Charity flinching away from him, over and over again.

If he lived to be a hundred, he would never forget the way she had curled herself up in fright against the violence of his movement. He had been responsible for that reaction. No matter what she said, the blame lay with him. He knew her history and should have foreseen how she would react to an unpredictable motion like that in the middle of a heated argument.

It had been fucking unforgivable.

He scrubbed his hands over his face. Calling himself every awful name under the sun.

And she was leaving him. So much sooner than he was ready to let her go. But considering how today went that was probably for the best anyway.

His phone chimed, and he glared at its brightly lit face on the nightstand. He reached for it, and then frowned at the message displayed on the lock screen.

Hey!! Guess what?

He sighed and swiped the screen to get into his message app. Vicki may prove exactly the diversion he needed right now.

What?

You’ll find out soon enough

What the hell was that supposed to mean?

What are you up to, Vic?

Who me????? Nothing. Just your beloved sister being beloved. Hugs!!!!!!!!!!

Vicki!!

Miss you, big bruvva.

He sent a few more texts demanding answers, but they remained unread.

Damn it!

He hoped she wasn’t up to something ridiculous again. His sister was sweet, creative, and smart as a whip…but she was stupidly impulsive at times. He trusted that Chambers would keep her from doing anything too imprudent.

He sighed disconsolately. As diversions went, this one hadn’t been particularly effective because his mind refocused on Charity all too damned soon.

He should get used to it. Because this was just the start of the rest of his miserable life without her.

Charity was already prepping for breakfast by the time Miles dragged himself out of bed and into the kitchen the following morning. He had succumbed to a restless doze shortly before sunrise and had barely scraped together three hours of sleep.

He was in a dark emotional space, and seeing her standing in the middle of the kitchen back in her Mrs. Fucking Cole get up, felt like a shot to the heart.