Page 95 of Brambles and Bellflowers
I couldn’t move, couldn’t react. Internally, I was screaming.
I didn’t care if he knew anymore—I had to escape.
“Miles!” I breathed. This was only Miles, and Iknewhe would never hurt me. Yet, it was impossible to contain my panic.
“Miles, p-please wake up!” My voice broke as I pushed against his chest.
His soft snore ended in a grunt, and his face twisted as bleary eyes opened.
“Bianca?” he asked, his voice groggy. He pushed his hips further into me as he asked, “What—”
His question dropped mid-breath, and his eyes widened while he stilled.
“Shit!” He retreated instantly, pushing to his knees and pulling me into a sitting position in one quick movement.
“Bianca, I’m sorry!” he said, tucking the blanket around me.
“It’s o-okay,” I stuttered, touching my trembling fingertips to my mouth. How was it possible to feel guilty, yet terrified, at the same time?
This wasn’t his fault.
“It’s okay,” I repeated, and my voice was firmer this time. “Don’t be sorry,” I said, reminding myself of this as much as him. “It’s not a big deal.”
Though, in reality, it felt plenty big enough.
“I usually wake up before you,” Miles said. “I’m sorry—”
“Please stop apologizing.” I gritted my teeth, tearing my eyes from his. Why couldn’t we pretend this never happened? And what did that mean—this had happened before?
This was the exact situation I had been trying to avoid. My focus turned to his tense shoulders, and I fought to keep my tone indifferent. “It’s fine.”
“It’s not fine!” Miles’s touch lingered over my arms, his voice firm. “We need to talk about this, Bianca. Ignoring it won’t make it go away.” He seemed almost afraid to touch me, his movements gentle yet deliberate. “You’re shaking.”
Why did he have to point it out? It was one thing for me to freak out with Julian, but Miles was the innocent one! I wasn’t supposed to be scared of him.
“It’s normal,” the words rushed from me as I pushed to my feet and wrapped the blanket more tightly around me. “I’mnormal!” I snapped, turning to the mouth of the cave. “Don’t overreact. I’m going outside for a minute. You can get dressed first.”
“Bianca—” he called after me, his tone more insistent, but I ignored him. “We can’t just leave it like this. Please, let’s sort this out.”
I just needed one minute to myself. Once I gained control of my pounding heart and spiraling thoughts, I’d go back.
I would be like everyone else, even if it killed me.
I stepped out of the cave, and the brisk autumn air washed over me. I looked at the sky. We’d slept in—it was halfway to noon, or as much as I could tell.
So much for meeting the others this morning.
“Bianca.” Miles stumbled out of the cave—fully dressed in his torn shirt and camo pants—more quickly than I expected. “Can I—”
“What time do you think it is?” I asked, pointing at the sun. Maybe he could read it more precisely.
“What?” he paused, blinking at me before he peered at the sky. “I don’t know,” he responded, shrugging as he turned his attention to me. “Probably after ten. But that’s not important right now. Bianca, we need to talk about—”
“I’m hungry,” I told him. What did we have to talk about? “What’s the plan until we catch up to the others? Do you know how to skin a deer?”
While we lacked most useful supplies, we did have that rusty old knife.
“Wait, what?” Miles blinked and raised his hands, stepping back. “No, I’m not going to kill a deer! This isstilla pilgrimage!”
