Page 70 of Tanner

Tanner stared at him for a second, his eyes moving between Miles’. Miles returned it, letting him see that he wasn’t judging him. Eventually, Tanner spoke. “I keep thinking if I’d answered one thing wrong, that would’ve been it. If the place had looked worse. If Savannah had gotten upset. If I’d come across wrong. Just one thing. That’s all it would take with people like that.”

“It might feel that way,” Miles said, “but it doesn’t mean it’s true.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” Tanner snapped.

Miles took that and let it go. He knew Tanner was scared. He rubbed the back of Tanner’s neck, then let his fingers slide through Tanner’s long hair.

After a moment, Tanner spoke again, quieter this time. “I didn’t think you’d come tonight.”

Miles frowned slightly. “Why?”

Tanner shrugged. “You heard what I told you.”

Miles knew what he meant. The things Tanner had done to get by. The choices he had made when it had been him and Savannah and no one else. He hadn’t flinched then, and he wasn’t going to now.

“Yeah,” Miles said. “I heard you.”

“And you still came.”

“Yeah.”

Tanner looked at him for a long time. “Most people would’ve thought twice about coming back.”

Miles slid his hand from Tanner’s neck to his jaw. “I’m not most people.”

That got a brief flicker in Tanner’s face. Not quite surprise or relief but something in between. “No,” Tanner said quietly. “I’m starting to get that.”

Miles leaned in and kissed him. Soft and slow with no rush to move things along. Tanner stood still for a second, then his hand closed lightly on Miles’ shirt. When Miles drew back, Tanner didn’t move away.

“I’m here,” Miles told him.

Tanner’s eyes stayed on his. “Why?”

Miles could have given him an easy answer that would have moved the night along. Because I want to be. Because I like you. Because I care. All of that was true, but somehow none of it felt like enough.

“Sit down,” Miles said.

Tanner looked at him for a moment, then pulled out a chair and sat. Miles sat across from him and considered what he wanted to say.

Tanner rested his arms on the table. “Alright.”

Miles looked at the table for a second before he spoke. “When I was seventeen, a friend of mine was killed.”

When Miles paused, Tanner whispered, “You don’t have to—”

“His name was Ryan,” Miles carried on. “We grew up together. Went to school together. Played ball together for years. He got into it with the wrong people outside a gas station one night. Not even over anything worth dying for. One of them had a knife. Ryan stepped in because his little brother was there.”

Tanner did not interrupt.

“I got there after,” Miles said. “I saw the ambulance. Saw his mom. Saw his brother covered in blood. Ryan was still alive when they loaded him in, but not for long.”

Tanner’s face tightened. “He died on the way?”

Miles nodded once. “Yeah.”

Neither of them said anything for a minute until Miles cleared his throat and carried on talking.

“They caught the men who did it. At first I thought that would mean something. Thought at least that part would be simple. But it turned into statements and evidence and paperwork and one mistake after another.” His jaw hardened. “One of them got a lesser charge. The other walked because of a technicality.”