Page 47 of Falling

“Dropped a glass,” I explained, gesturing at the bag and the remaining shards.

“I can see that,” Miles said. I wasn’t brave enough to open my eyes, but I could feel the way he was looking at me anyway. “Would it be okay if I helped?”

“I don’t want you to cut yourself,” I said. I’d never forgive myself if he got hurt on my account.

“I won’t,” Miles said. “And if I do, we’ll have cool matching cuts.”

That startled a laugh out of me.

“Come on, big guy,” Miles said, putting a hand under my elbow to help me up. “First aid kit?”

“I can take care of myself,” I said automatically.

“I know,” Miles said. “But someone told me once that it’s okay to accept help.”

I should’ve known that’d come back to bite me.

“Sounds like a wise man.”

“He is wise,” Miles agreed, helping me over to the couch he’d fallen asleep on the other night. “And kind. But there's a stubborn streak in there.”

I snorted. “Yeah, well. Comes with the package.”

“First aid kit?” Miles repeated.

“Now who’s stubborn?”

“Stubbornness is a virtue where I come from,” Miles said.

“Portland?”

“First aid kit,” Miles repeated in his best public librarian voice, which was really coming along.

“In the kitchen,” I conceded. “Hanging on the wall. Can’t miss it. Sir,” I added with a grin.

Miles poked his tongue out at me and wove his way behind the bar, disappearing into the kitchen.

Which was about when I remembered what I’d left on the counter, retrieved from the trash behind the bar after Seth had thrown it in there for me.

“Who’s Alex?” he asked as soon as he came back into the room. “Is he going to make you rock climb up to his wedding?”

I swallowed. I could have lied, but I didn’t want to. Not to Miles. He saw me as safe, and I still didn’t want to do anything to compromise that. Lying, if he found out I had later, would make him feel like he couldn’t trust me.

“Alex is my ex.”

Miles’s face fell as he flopped down on the couch next to me, first aid kit in hand. “Oh,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

“For asking? Don’t be. You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“I could’ve been a tiny bit more sensitive.”

“How could you possibly have known?” I asked as Miles unpacked the kit, selecting an alcohol wipe from the assortment of things in there. It probably needed a restock.

“Have you had a tetanus shot recently?” he asked, ripping it open and taking my hand gently but firmly.

“I thought you were a librarian, not a⁠—”

I paused to hiss as Miles cleaned out the cut with the wipe. It wasn't really that deep, just in an awkward spot, across the thick part of my palm where my thumb joined it.