Falling asleep is better, knowing Rachel is falling asleep right across the hall.

Waking up every morning is so much better, knowing Rachel is waking up right across the hall.

Going to school is better, now that we go together.

"Let's skip today," I tell Rachel when we pull into the parking lot of the school.

I'm sure skipping school is even better with Rachel.

"What if we get caught?"

She doesn't sound like she really cares if we get caught.

"I hope we get caught," I tell her. "That means we'd be grounded. Together. In the same house."

My words make Rachel smile. She leans across the seat and slides her hand around my neck. I love it when she does that.

"Being grounded with you sounds really fun. Let's do it." She leans forward and gives me a simple, quick peck on the lips.

Simple kisses are better when they're from Rachel.

"You make everything better," I tell her. "My life. It's better with you in it."

My words make Rachel smile again. Rachel doesn't know this, but every word I speak is voiced for that sole reason. To make her smile.

I pull out of the parking lot and tell Rachel we're going to the beach. She says she wants her bathing suit, so we go to the house first and get our bathing suits. We also pack a lunch and a blanket.

We go to the beach.

Rachel wants to sunbathe while she reads.

I want to watch Rachel sunbathe while she reads.

She's lying on her stomach, propped up on her elbows. I lay my head on my arms and watch her.

My eyes follow the smooth curves of her shoulders . . . the sway in her back . . . the way her knees are bent and her legs are up in the air with her feet crossed at the ankles.

Rachel is happy.

I make Rachel happy.

I make Rachel's life better.

Her life is better with me in it.

"Rachel," I whisper.

She places her bookmark inside the book and closes it, but she doesn't look at me.

"I want you to know something."

She nods, but she closes her eyes as though she wants to focus on my voice and nothing else.

"When my mom died, I stopped believing in G.o.d."

She lays her head on her arms and keeps her eyes shut.

"I didn't think G.o.d would make someone go through that much physical pain. I didn't think G.o.d would make someone suffer like she suffered. I didn't think G.o.d was capable of making someone go through something so ugly."

A tear falls from Rachel's closed eyes.

"But then I met you, and every single day since then, I've wondered how someone could be so beautiful if there wasn't a G.o.d. I've wondered how someone could make me so incredibly happy if G.o.d didn't exist. And I realized . . . just now . . . that G.o.d gives us the ugliness so we don't take the beautiful things in life for granted."

My words don't make Rachel smile.

My words make Rachel frown.

My words make Rachel cry.

"Miles," she whispers.

She says my name so quietly it's as if she doesn't want me to hear it.

She looks at me, and I can see that this moment isn't one of the beautiful moments for her. Not like it is for me.

"Miles . . . I'm late."

chapter seventeen.

TATE.

Corbin: Want to grab dinner? What time do you get off work?

Me: Ten minutes. Where at?

Corbin: We're nearby. We'll just meet you out front.

We?

I can't ignore the excitement that just flooded me with that text. Surely the we means him and Miles. I can't think of anyone else who would be coming with him, and I know Miles came home last night.

I finish up the last of my paperwork, then make a stop in the restroom to check my hair (I hate that I care) before heading outside to meet them.

The three of them are standing near the entrance when I walk outside. Ian and Miles are both with Corbin. Ian smiles when he sees me, since he's the only one facing me. Corbin spins around when I reach them.

"Ready? We're going to Jack's."

They're quite the team. All good-looking in their own ways but even more so when they're sporting their pilot jackets and walking in a group like this. I can't deny I feel somewhat underdressed, walking next to them in my scrubs. "Let's do it," I say. "I'm starving."

I glance at Miles, and he gives me the slightest nod but no smile. His hands are planted firmly in the pockets of his jacket, and he looks away as we all begin walking. He stays a step ahead of me the entire time, so I walk next to Corbin.

"What's the occasion?" I ask as we head toward the restaurant. "Are we celebrating the fact that all three of you are off on the same night?"

A silent conversation pa.s.ses around me. Ian looks at Miles. Corbin looks at Ian. Miles looks at no one. He keeps his eyes forward, focused on the sidewalk ahead of us.

"Remember when we were kids and Mom and Dad took us to La Caprese?" Corbin asks.

I remember that night. I've never seen my parents happier. I couldn't have been older than five or six, but it's one of the few memories I have from that young an age. It was the day my father made captain with his airline.

I stop in my tracks and immediately look at Corbin. "You made captain? You can't get captain. You're too young." I know for a fact how hard it is to make captain and how many hours a pilot has to put in to be considered. Most pilots in their twenties are copilots.

Corbin shakes his head. "I didn't get captain. I've changed airlines too much." He cuts his eyes to Miles. "But Mr. Sign Me Up for More Hours over here got a nice little promotion today. Broke the company record."

I look at Miles, and he's shaking his head at Corbin. I can tell he's embarra.s.sed that Corbin just called him out, but his modesty is just one more thing I find appealing about him. I have a feeling that if their friend Dillon were ever to make captain, he'd be on top of a bar somewhere, announcing it to the entire world with a megaphone.

"It's not that big a deal," Miles says. "It's a regional airline. Not many people to promote."

Ian shakes his head. "I didn't get promoted. Corbin didn't get promoted. Dillon didn't get promoted. You've been at this a year less than any of us, not to mention the fact that you're only twenty-four." He spins around and walks backward, facing all three of us. "Abandon the modesty for once, man. Rub it in our faces a little. We'd do it to you if the roles were reversed."

I don't know how long they've been friends, but I like Ian. I can tell he and Miles are close, because Ian is genuinely proud of him and not at all jealous. I like that these are Corbin's friends. It makes me happy for Corbin that he has this support. I've always pictured him living here, working too much, spending all his time alone and away from home. I don't know why, though. Our father was a pilot, and he was home a fair amount of time, so I shouldn't have misconceptions when it comes to Corbin's life as a pilot.

I guess Corbin isn't the only one to worry unnecessarily about his sibling.

We reach the restaurant, and Corbin holds the door open for us. Ian walks in first, and Miles steps back, allowing me to walk in ahead of him.

"I'm going to the restroom," Ian says. "I'll find you guys."

Corbin walks to the hostess stand, and Miles and I are both behind him. I steal a glance in Miles's direction. "Congratulations, Captain."

I say it under my breath, but I don't know why. It's not as if Corbin would become suspicious if he heard me congratulating Miles. I guess I feel if I say it in a tone only Miles can hear, there's more meaning behind it.

Miles cuts his eyes to mine and smiles, then glances at Corbin. When he sees Corbin's back is still to us, he leans over and plants a quick kiss on the side of my head.

I should be ashamed of my weakness. A man should not be allowed to make me feel the way that stolen kiss just made me feel. It's as if I'm suddenly floating or sinking or flying. Anything that doesn't require support from my legs, because they've just become useless to me.

"Thank you," he whispers, still sporting that gorgeous yet somehow modest grin. He nudges my shoulder with his and looks down at his feet. "You look pretty, Tate."

I want to plaster those four words on a billboard and require myself to pa.s.s it on my drive to work every day. I would never take another day off work again.

As much as I want to believe he's being sincere with his compliment, I frown down at the scrubs I've been wearing for twelve hours straight. "I'm wearing Minnie Mouse scrubs."

He leans into me again until our shoulders are touching. "I've kind of always had a thing for Minnie Mouse," he says quietly.

Corbin turns around, so I immediately wipe the grin off my face. "Booth or table?"

Miles and I both shrug. "Either," he says to Corbin.

Ian returns from the restroom just as the hostess begins to lead us to our seats. Corbin and Ian lead the way, and Miles follows close behind me. Really close. His hand grips my waist as he leans forward toward my ear from behind me. "Kind of have a thing for nurses, too," he whispers.

I raise my shoulder to rub the ear he just whispered his admission into, because my entire neck is now covered in chills. He releases my waist and puts distance between us when we reach the booth. Corbin and Ian scoot into each side of the booth. Miles sits next to Ian, so I sit next to Corbin, directly across from Miles.

Miles and I both order sodas, compared with Ian and Corbin's beer. His drink choice is just one more thing to mull over. Several weeks ago, he admitted he doesn't usually drink, but considering he was beyond wasted the first night I met him, I figured he would at least have one drink tonight. He certainly has reason to celebrate. When the drinks are brought to the table, Ian raises his gla.s.s. "To showing us up," he says.

"Again," Corbin adds.

"To working twice as many hours as either of you," Miles says in mock defensiveness.

"Corbin and I actually have s.e.x lives that interfere with working overtime," Ian retorts.

Corbin shakes his head. "No discussing my s.e.x life in front of my sister."

"Why not?" I pipe up. "It's not like I don't notice all the random nights you spend away from the apartment when you aren't working."

Corbin groans. "I'm serious. Change of subject."

I grant him his request gladly. "How long have the three of you known each other?" I ask the question to no one in particular, but I only care to hear the answers that involve Miles.

"Miles and I have known your brother since meeting him in flight school a few years back. I've known Miles since I was nine or ten," Ian says.

"We were both eleven," Miles corrects. "We met during fifth grade."

I have no idea if this conversation is breaking rule one of no asking about the past, but Miles doesn't seem uncomfortable talking about it.

The waitress brings us a complimentary basket of bread, but none of us has even opened a menu yet, so she tells us she'll be back to take our order.

"I still can't believe you're not gay," Corbin says to Miles, completely changing the subject again while he opens his menu.

Miles peers at him over his menu. "I thought we weren't discussing s.e.x lives."

"No," Corbin says. "I said we weren't discussing my s.e.x life. Besides, you don't even have one to discuss." Corbin lays his menu flat on the table and engages Miles directly. "Seriously, though. Why don't you ever date?"

Miles shrugs, more interested in the drink between his hands than in having a stare-down with my brother. "Relationships aren't worth the end result to me."

Something in my heart cracks, and I start to worry that one of the guys might actually hear it fragmenting over the silence. Corbin leans back in the seat.

"d.a.m.n. She must have been a serious b.i.t.c.h."

My eyes are suddenly glued to Miles, waiting for his reaction to a possible revelation about his past. He gives his head a slight shake, silently dismissing Corbin's a.s.sumption. Ian gently clears his throat, and his expression changes as he loses the smile normally affixed to his face. It's obvious by Ian's reaction that whatever issues Miles has from his past, Ian is definitely aware of them.

Ian sits up straight in his seat and raises his gla.s.s, pasting a forced grin onto his lips. "Miles doesn't have time for girls. He's too busy breaking company records by becoming the youngest captain our airline has ever seen."

We take Ian's interruption for what it is and raise our gla.s.ses. We clink them together, and everyone takes a drink.