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Miles: Where are you? I'll pick you up.
Meg: Is that a good idea?
Miles: I'll take you home. If you want me to leave after that, I will.
I send him the address of the nearest house. It's pure impulse. I want him here. I want his arms around me.
Miles: What happened?
Meg: There was this girl in the ER… I'm not sure I should discuss this with you.
Miles: Let me help you. I want to.
Meg: Would you let me help you?
I stare at the phone for minutes, but there's no response. That
's as good as a no.
The world is heavy. I pull my knees to my chest and bring my gaze to the sky. Still no stars but the half-moon is a beautiful shade of silver.
The neighborhood is quiet. No sounds except the wind Then there's a car. It parks. The door opens. Footsteps come closer.
Someone kneels next to me.
"Hey." Miles slides his arms around me. "Come on. You'll be okay."
I shake my head. But I soak in all the comfort of his arms anyway.
Chapter Twenty
He won't share himself with me but he's here, in my apartment, taking care of me, singing songs about me.
How the hell am I supposed to make sense of that?
I tug at the zipper of my hoodie and shrug it off my shoulders. "You want something to drink?"
"Whatever you're having."
"Do you drink?"
"Drink what?" He sets my bag on the counter.
"Alcohol."
"There's never been any alcohol in your fridge."
"There was none at your place in Malibu?"
His brow furrows. "You checked?"
"No, but am I wrong?"
"You're right. There's no alcohol there."
I look at the available beverages. It's green tea, water, or grapefruit juice. I pour two glasses of juice and hand one to Miles.
"Thanks." He takes a sip and sets the glass on the counter. It's a delicate movement. Careful.
