Chapter 10 About Miles

◇ KEL ◇

It took me a while, but I finally figured it out. I let out a sigh, white mists coming out of my nose and mouth. My partly exposed skin just hated the dark and bitingly cold horror movie ambience at this hour.

"Miles?" I wrapped my arms around myself and peered around the dark grass-covered space.

To my utter confusion and horror, the paths diverged into more mazes. Darn. This thing didn't end! Moonlight was sparse in this side of the lot. Would I even find my way out of here by tonight?

Shadowed hedges towered over me by at least four feet. How'd I even end up trapped in this creepy old maze at this hour of the night?

Actually I was just trying to find him. Perhaps Miles and his older cousin were hanging out somewhere around here in this impressively maintained garden and backyard, which could be the size of an entire football field, if I wasn't overcalculating.

"Miles?" I called out louder. An old sweater covered half of my poor excuse of a nightgown while the wind tousled my hair. It kept my cold hands pressed on my neck.

Drats! Where's a flashlight when you badly needed one? Of course I stupidly forgot my phone in the guest room.

Forcing my numbing feet to move was getting difficult with tense legs and a hyperactive imagination. Now I was trapped in the most complicated, constricting, and suffocating pathway made of unnaturally tall hedges in the middle of the Falcos' intimidatingly huge backyard.

Why did I even think he'd be out here? And at this hour? If only I knew which one of the hundred freakin' guest rooms Miles chose to sleep in for the weekend...

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

The night sky stayed black and unhelpful as my breathing grew shallow. My attention flitted from one path to the next. The leftmost one looked like another long 'L'. The path on the right seemed to form a curve. I couldn't tell for sure; the lack of lighting was messing with my concentration, only giving me more unnecessary goosebumps.

Two steps backward and my arms already touched another thick hedge. Leaves and stems rustled against my body. The nippy breeze, to my ears, sounded like it whistled.

Dang it! Why did it have to be this cold tonight? But I shouldn't panic, even though this place just gave me major creeps. The next second, the hairs on my nape stood when something nearby made loud crackling noises, like that of dry stalks being stomped on.

"Please be Miles. Please be Miles..." I all but murmured to myself.

Footsteps crushing twigs and shrubbery were fast approaching. The scary thing about it? I couldn't tell if they were human or not. So I covered my mouth. At the moment, all I could do was shut my eyes and recite prayers under my breath...and pray I wasn't about to be savaged and eaten by wild wolves out here.

Cold and just about trembling in fear, I sat on the dry ground, succumbing to the darkness. I protected my head with my arms and hands, and now my face touched my knees. I should just keep my mouth shut and play dead. Still and lifeless.

"Mykaela, why are you out here?"

The familiar voice forced my freezing limbs to move. My chest stopped heaving when a tall male figure stood before me. A man in a wrinkled button-down. Curly bangs. Deep voice.

Ricchar.

Thank God! It was just Miles' cousin.

"You okay?" asked our host.

A small nod became my only response. Seeing him standing in front of me instead of some rabid wild animal slowed my heartbeat down from a hundred miles per hour to a mildly terrified rate.

"It's pretty late." Ricchar stepped closer. Wind disheveled his dark and wavy hair. Extending his hand for me, Ricchar helped me up until I felt steady on my feet. His breath also reeked of alcohol. Wine, most likely.

"I-I got lost." The wind breezed past us again. The tall hedges rustled nonstop. The goosebumps still wouldn't leave my skin.

"He's looking for you." Ricchar held my hand, his speech slightly slurred. He led me through another path while I gripped his arm as if my life and crumbling sanity depended on it. "Why are you out here? Can't sleep?"

"I was trying to find him, to talk to him about something," I muttered. Thank heavens my claustrophobia no longer threatened to cripple me with fear and excess anxiety. Finally, someone was walking me through this eerie, asphyxiating maze.

"In here?" Ricchar chuckled and glanced at me. Although he probably had been drinking all night, his touch felt cold to my skin. His calloused hand clasped my forearm while we trod through a dim and narrow U-shaped path.

"I'm not...sure how I got-"

"Ah. Sì. Mi scuso." Ricchar scratched the back of his head. "Forgot to tell the gardeners to trim the grass around the patio. They just lead you straight into the maze if you're not careful."

"Sorry. I was just..." I let my gaze dart around the path we crossed. "Being clumsy."

The moonlight didn't do enough to guide us, but Ricchar seemed to have every bit of this maze memorized. His steps were in haste, precise, almost effortless, as if he had night vision or something. He let me follow his lead when the path shrank, narrowing into a few feet in width. "Heard you from the patio. So I went in." Ricchar paused, glimpsed my expression, and then grinned. "I was meaning to talk to you, too."

"Why?"

Ricchar motioned for me to keep walking when we both fell silent. While his steps remained straightforward, mine got paused by hesitation. "I know it's not my place, but...sooner or later, you'll find out, anyway."

Find out what? I put on a small smile in response to hide my growing curiosity.

"Might as well get on with it. Right?" Ricchar shrugged. "I just don't like the idea of leaving you totally in the dark."

What? What did he mean? "Um...in the dark about what?"

"Maxim-he tends to be that secretive and selfish when it suits his mood." Ricchar sighed, his quick legs resuming his hasty steps. We were out of the maze in a minute or so.

"Thank you," I said, my voice almost a sigh of relief. My heartbeat hadn't calmed down entirely, though. Especially after he guided me to the empty patio.

Opened wine bottles and used champagne glasses littered his outdoor table. "Have a seat." Ricchar let go of me and sat on a steel chair, leaving me standing speechless behind him.

Perplexed and quite nervous, I shook off the apprehension and eyed the chair, the one opposite his. Where the heck was Miles?

Instead of sleeping soundly in my room, buried under the warmth of thick covers, I was out here in the middle of the night and alone with his obviously intoxicated cousin.

But I shouldn't be a rude guest. So I sat down, almost appreciating the fact that he and Miles could pass for brothers. Especially with the hair, the identical height, and the lean build. It distracted me from my nervousness and slight shivering.

"Just a chat over wine." Ricchar checked the bottles on the table. "Here. Have some." He poured me some of the drink.

"Thanks," I murmured. Cautiously, I picked up the glass and was unable to maintain eye contact.

"You like my cousin?" Ricchar stared at me, and then grinned when I didn't reply. "I think you're great for him. He just doesn't want to admit it."

"Um..."

"He doesn't like being clingy, as you know. Not sure why. Still, I really want to know what he told you."

"Me?" I held the wine glass to my lips, but I couldn't seem to take a single sip.

"Some important family matters, perhaps?"

"Like what?" I muttered, still mildly trembling and now actually curious. I thanked him when he handed me his coat that was hanging onto his chair's backrest. "If you don't mind my asking."

"Honestly I'm not sure you'd believe it, but..." Ricchar's voice sounded a tad deeper and more serious now. "It's best you keep an open mind."

"Um...okay." At his ambiguous response, I tried not to make a face. Just what was he getting at?

"How long you been dating?"

"Uh..." I glanced away from the guy's unwavering gaze.

"A year?"

"Few months," I lied. Miles hadn't told me to let the cat out of the bag, so...

"You staying here in Italy for long?"

"No."

"Going back to New York?"

"My family expects me to," was my timid reply. How was Dad doing? I hadn't been able to contact Jill all day, no thanks to the awful cell reception out here.

"But you won't break up with him, no?"

"Um..." I shifted in my seat. My white lies and petty excuses were running out. Just the worst liar ever. Ugh. Sorry, Miles. Time to spill all the beans...

"Fun seeing him in love." Ricchar smiled briefly. "He's just undecided as of now." The guy drank some wine. "As you noticed, his parents are glad you're getting serious. They just want some formality."

Formality. Oh, boy. If they only knew...

"Maximiliano...he's not the relationship type." Ricchar squinted. "Must be the strict upbringing, the restrictive schools, or his relationship with his Mamma and Pappa. He doesn't like feeling...restrained. Always been like that since we were kids."

"I noticed."

"Just always been a curious little boy. Imaginative. Sometimes too impulsive." Ricchar grinned to himself. "Never told me why, but I know he experimented a while back. But that's all it was, really. It's like an innate thing for him-to test things, figure them out for himself."

"Oh."

"He always tries new things, like telling people to call him Miles. No one in the family calls him that." Ricchar grinned while his dark brows wrinkled. "And I think he only kept hanging out with Niccolo 'cause he wanted to piss off Zio."

"Piss off his dad?" I frowned. "Why?"

"They don't get along," Ricchar said simply. "Maybe because Zio Stefano is a perfectionist. Very ambition-driven, you know? Business-minded. And Maxim's...just the opposite. Let's just say, they don't have the best father-son relationship."

Fairly intrigued, I reclined in my seat and listened.

"Zio almost beat him up when he found out Maxim dropped out of college, started hanging out with the wrong crowd, trying this and that," Ricchar rambled on.

What did he mean by "this and that"? I wondered. "Drinking and stuff?"

"Yeah. Drugs and all that. He moved to Milan without his parents' consent. Moved into his friends' apartment years ago, never called back. That was years before his parents gave him money for that house in Brichese." Then Ricchar sighed and got quiet for a moment. "I love Maxim like a brother. We don't talk always, but I know he's still the same kid. Just less sad and troubled these days."

Sad and troubled. I mulled over his words. So, he could also tell Miles was often lonely.

Ricchar chuckled at my uncommunicative state. "And we owe it to you."

"Me?" I replied in a hushed voice. Miles was less sad now because of me? Why was Ricchar telling me all this?

"Enough about the past." The guy's half-grin came with a laugh. "What I'm trying to say is...Maxim's enjoying life now, thanks to you."

True as that might be, I only frowned at the statement. Why exactly was he telling me these things about their family?

"You can't just leave him. Don't be away for long."

"Um..."

"He likes being alone, doing things in his own pace. But, of course he tires of it at some point. And he's pitiful when he's lonely." Ricchar's tone turned somber. "Starts doing stupid things, becomes too distant, hangs out with the wrong people... You get the idea."

Just not what you're getting at, I almost retorted.

"He probably didn't tell you anything yet, but..." Ricchar stared at me, his dark brows wrinkling again. "Are you seriously in love with him?"

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