Page 84 of Tanner

Miles chose every word carefully. “I think this letter scared the hell out of you. I think you read it and heard the worst thing that ever happened to you all over again.” He held Tanner’s gaze. “And I think getting on that bus with her while you’re in this state won’t fix what you’re scared of.”

Tanner’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t get to tell me what fixes it.”

“No.” Miles kept his tone calm. “I get to tell you I’m standing here and I’m not judging you for being scared.”

For one second Tanner looked young. Too young for the weight in his arms and the decision in front of him.

Savannah’s crying had dropped to soft, worn-down sniffles. She was limp with tiredness now, her rabbit crushed between them.

Miles glanced at her and then back at Tanner. “She’s done.”

Tanner’s mouth tightened but he said nothing.

“Take one breath,” Miles said. Tanner stared at him. “Just one,” Miles repeated.

The driver stepped down from the bus and looked toward them, clearly deciding whether he had a boarding issue or just a crying child and an indecisive parent. Miles clocked it immediately.

“Tanner,” he said quietly. “Look at me.”

After a second, Tanner did.

Miles held eye contact and kept his voice low. “You don’t have to trust the system. You just have to trust me enough not to step onto that bus while Savannah is begging you to go home.”

Tanner’s eyes flickered with panic, anger, and fear. His grip tightened and loosened on the bags. Savannah sagged against him, worn out after all the crying.

Miles knew the next words mattered. He drew a breath, ready to say them.

And Tanner stood there on the edge of either getting on that bus or letting himself be talked back from it, with the doors still open and waiting.

Chapter Twenty-Four

The bus doors stayed open. The whole world moving like this was ordinary while his own had narrowed to the space between where he stood and where Miles stood a few feet away.

Savannah’s face was pressed into his neck again, her tears had soaked into his hoodie, and her rabbit was crushed between them. The bags were cutting into Tanner’s fingers hard enough that his hands had started to go numb.

Miles didn’t move closer and that should have helped more than it actually did.

Tanner kept looking at the bus doors because they were simple. The bus was motion. The bus was leaving. The bus was one decision and then another place. It was easier to stare at that than at Miles with his steady face and his quiet voice and the fact that he’d come alone.

“You don’t have to trust the system,” Miles had said. “You just have to trust me enough not to step onto that bus while Savannah is begging you to go home.”

Tanner hated how true that was, because he did trust Miles. Not all the way, but enough that the words got under his skin.

He kept his eyes on the bus. If he moved now, he could still do it. Two steps. Maybe three with the bags and Savannah clinging to him. Hand over the ticket, get onto the bus and sit down. Go somewhere else and work it out there.

But the panic that had gotten him this far had burned out. What was left behind felt shaky. Savannah had cried herself out. He’d scared her. No matter how he dressed it up in his own head, that was true. He’d walked her out of the house with a fake smile and a lie about a little trip, and now she was exhausted and whispering “home” like she couldn’t understand why he wasn’t listening.

Miles watched him and didn’t fill the silence. He let Tanner know he was there.

“Tanner.” His name, low and even. He looked up before he meant to, seeing Miles hadn’t changed position.

Tanner’s grip tightened on Savannah. “Don’t.”

Miles nodded, like he understood what Tanner meant even though Tanner didn’t know if he did himself.

The driver stepped half down from the bus and looked over. “You boarding or not?”

The question cut straight through the moment and Tanner flinched.