Chapter Twenty?Five — Along the Long Road

  The wagon train moved before the sun fully cleared the horizon, leaving the treacherous basin behind like a bad dream. The air felt lighter outside its borders, but the fatigue clinging to the company didn’t let go so easily.

  Miles walked beside Jonah near the middle of the line. Not talking. Not quite touching. Just… existing side by side.

  The land rolled out in gentle waves — yellow grass, patches of wind?gnarled shrubs, and boulders half?buried in the dirt like old bones. The sky was high, clear, endless. It should’ve been comforting.

  It wasn’t.

  Not when the truth tugged at Miles’s ribs like a hand made of sunlight and fear.

  Jonah was the first to break the silence.

  “You’ve been quiet.”

  Miles swallowed. “So have you.”

  Jonah huffed a small laugh. “Fair.”

  They walked another minute.

  Then Jonah said softly, “Miles… what the elder said back there — about you walking two paths — it’s been stuck in my head.”

  Miles’s heart hammered painfully. “Jonah—”

  “I’m not asking you to explain,” Jonah cut in gently. “I just… want you to know that I heard it. I see you trying to carry something heavy. And I’m here.”

  Miles exhaled shakily. He couldn’t meet Jonah’s eyes yet. Couldn’t risk the way Jonah sometimes looked at him — like he was something worth understanding.

  Jonah nudged him lightly with his shoulder. A soft, grounding touch. Warm.

  “Talk to me,” Jonah said. “Not the whole truth if you’re not ready — just something real.”

  Miles hesitated.

  The wind brushed the grass, bending it in long ripples. The wagons creaked. Oxen snorted and clopped. The world moved slowly, patiently.

  Finally Miles whispered, “I’m afraid you’ll look at me different.”

  Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

  Jonah’s steps slowed. “Is that what you’re worried about?”

  Miles nodded, staring at the ground. “Yes.”

  Jonah thought about that for a long moment — long enough for the line of wagons to stretch ahead of them, long enough for morning shadows to shift across the dirt.

  Then he asked, quietly and seriously:

  “Has anyone hurt you? Before all this?”

  Miles froze.

  Because the truth wasn’t simple. Because the answer wasn’t yes — but it wasn’t no either.

  “I… I don’t know how to answer that,” Miles whispered.

  Jonah’s brow furrowed with concern, but he didn’t push. “Okay. Then maybe tell me this—are you afraid of me?”

  Miles’s head snapped up instantly. “No. Never.”

  Relief softened Jonah’s expression. “Good. Then whatever you’re carrying… I’m not part of what hurt you.”

  Miles opened his mouth — then closed it. Words tangled. Heart pounded.

  Jonah looked out over the grassland, voice gentler now.

  “You’re brave, Miles. You step into danger before thinking. You throw yourself between people and harm like it’s instinct.” He paused. “But when it comes to yourself? You hide.”

  Miles felt heat sting the backs of his eyes.

  Jonah went on, softer:

  “You don’t have to hide from me. Not ever.”

  Miles whispered, “I want to tell you.”

  Jonah’s eyes warmed. “Then I’ll wait.”

  Miles swallowed hard. “Why?”

  Jonah laughed — a soft, disbelieving laugh. “Because I like you, you mule?headed wonder.”

  Miles’s breath stuttered. “Jonah—”

  “And because,” Jonah added, quieter now, “you matter to me. More than I’ve wanted to admit.”

  The words struck Miles like sunlight breaking through cloud.

  He stumbled.

  Just a half?step.

  Jonah steadying him instantly — hand to his arm, voice low. “Easy. I’ve got you.”

  Miles nodded, breath shaky. “I know.”

  They resumed walking.

  The world felt… different. Not safer. Not simpler. But warmer.

  Jonah stayed close — close enough that their hands brushed now and again, close enough that Miles could feel the heat of him, the care braided through every step.

  Miles finally whispered:

  “I’m not who you think I am.”

  Jonah’s hand brushed his gently — the lightest touch, a promise not to let go.

  “That’s alright,” Jonah murmured. “I’ll wait to meet who you really are.”

  Miles’s chest tightened — fear and relief swirling until he didn’t know where one ended and the other began.

  He whispered one last thing, barely louder than breath:

  “Thank you.”

  Jonah smiled, eyes soft as twilight. “Anytime, Miles. Anytime.”

  And together they walked on, into a future full of danger, and truth, and a kind of hope Miles had never dared imagine.