Page 53 of Doxed
I watch the towering trees slowly pass by through the passenger window of some Porsche SUV. We already dropped Nova off at her parents’ house, and now we’re pulling up to Miles’ house.
My heart beats out of my chest as he pulls into the underground garage and parks the car. I don’t want to get out. I don’t want to be here.
He opens my door and offers me his hand. Licking my lips, I take it and climb out. The garage is cold, of course it is—it’s underground, and I wrap my arms around myself.
With every step I take up the stairs, I can feel my heart constrict more and more, like it’s pulling me away from this house. Miles opens the door at the top of the stairs and I hesitantly follow him through.
My eyes immediately go to the spot in the kitchen where he fell after getting shot. The cabinet door where he sat against is gone and a new, plain black runner is laying across the spot.
Miles follows my gaze. His arm bends and he rubs the back of his neck. “The door is being refinished and there were a few spots I couldn’t get out on the floor.”
“Right,” I mutter.
He walks past the open cabinet and over the rug, like they’re not evidence that he almost died and I was trafficked for the fucking millionth time.
“Are you hungry?” He reaches for the fridge and I shake my head.
“Are you tired? You can take my room or your old room.” He pauses before continuing, “We can stay together or we don’t have to.
We kind of left things in a weird place before everything happened. ”
Is he rambling? Since when does he ramble?
I shake my head again, mostly to try to clear my thoughts.
My head's a mess. A million things run through it at once, and most of them contradict the previous thought.
I don't know what I want, who I want. I just want to feel safe and like myself right now. And I know this house isn’t going to help with that.
“Miles,” I start with a sigh. “I don’t want to be here.”
He nods, his eyes moving around the house.
“Okay, yeah, that makes sense. We can go somewhere else. A hotel in the city, or we can leave Washington and go wherever you want.” His eyes scrutinize me, and when he finds what he’s looking for, his face falls.
“You mean me, don’t you?” He cocks his head and runs his tongue over his lips while I nod.
“I’m sorry, I just don't want to be around here, or you. Or, or anyone.” I rush out the last part when he purses his lips.
He looks everywhere but at me and nods again. He steps forward and hands me the key fob for the SUV. “You can take this wherever you want to go. Your things are still in your old room.”
I take the key from him and back away. “I want to be alone, Miles.”
“I got it, Briar.” He crosses his arms, still avoiding looking at me.
I lick my lips in nervousness. “I mean, I don't want you looking for me, or watching me, or keeping tabs on me. I want to be alone.”
He finally looks at me, his eyes look so sad. “For how long?”
“I don’t know,” I whisper.
“Forever?” he asks.
I shrug. “Maybe.”
Miles bites the inside of his lip and nods while he walks away, but I stay rooted to the spot, staring at the black runner until I hear a door down the hall close, probably his office door.
I'm so confused. I feel bad for leaving him, but I shouldn't. He trafficked me, and I don't feel safe here.
But he also saved me. He took bullets to protect me and confronted the head of a cartel to find me.
He’s opened up to me, shared things with me he never shared with anyone. And I care about him a lot. When I thought he died, I wanted to be right beside him.
But right now I care about myself more, and getting the help that I need to heal. Which I'm not going to be able to do here.
I quickly pack all of my belongings into my duffle bags and carry them downstairs. Miles isn’t in the kitchen or the living area, and I don’t think it’s appropriate to go look for him, so I take my stuff down to the garage and pack it into the SUV we arrived in.
The garage door opens as I approach it and I drive out and down the dirt driveway. I can go anywhere, so where do I go now?