Joshua was going to rape me, and there's no telling what else. If I hadn't done what I did, who's to say what would have happened to me.
But to kill him...and to get rid of the body...
"Miller?" I don't take my eyes off the blood-splattered floor.
"Yes?" His voice is so calm that it's a bit eerie. How can he remain composed in a situation like this?
"What do you do for a living?" I ask the question I know I shouldn't. It's the one all my close friends avoid. They give me their version of the truth, but it's never the whole truth, and it leads me to wonder why they don't trust me enough to confide in me.
Miller sighs. "It's complicated."
I glance up at him, taking in his steady gaze. I expect butterflies or a whirlwind of emotions to flutter through my body but instead, I feel just as calm as his voice.Safe. With him. Suddenly, the fact that I just killed a man isn't as terrifying as it once was. I'm no different from him, from them, I'm a monster.
Starring into his eyes, though, a monster is the last thing I see.
No, Miller is kind, patient, and a bit dominant. He has this stoic nature to him and I wouldn't be surprised if he didn't have a darkness hidden deep within. There's no way he can stay chill all the time.
"It's not that I don't want to tell you. He continues, "It's just...a lot." Miller shrugs off his jacket. "Are you cold?" He drapes it over my shoulders without allowing me to answer.
"What about the blood?"
"I don't care."
It's then that my attention is drawn to his biceps, his forearms, the veins running along them and into his hands. My mind wanders back to theveryvivid dream I had of him and Alec and if I'm not mistaken, my cheeks flush red. Why am I thinking about sex when a dead man is lying on the tile floor?
I wrap his leather jacket around me and try not to make it too obvious when I suck in a breath to catch a better whiff of him.
Miller's phone rings, and at first, he ignores it.
"Do you need to get that?" I ask him when it rings again. "What if it's the cleaner guy you called?"
He pulls his phone out and his jaw tenses. "It's Dominic. Do you mind?"
I shake my head. "No, not at all."
Miller steps away, not so much that I can't see him anymore, but enough that he's out of earshot. It's strange that with each foot he places between us, that comfortable layer of security dissipates. Maybe it's the dead body or the memory of my struggle with Joshua coming to the forefront, but it took Miller walking into the other room for me to realize I don't want to be alone, not right now.
I remain in the kitchen but move farther away from Joshua and try to block my line of sight to him with the island. If I can't see him, maybe his ghost can no longer haunt me.
But the second he's out of sight, this irrational fear that he isn't actually dead comes rushing in. My breathing hitches as my chest rises and falls quicker and I grip Miller's jacket in an attempt to shield me from the dead man. Without my consent, tears fall down my cheeks, and I hate myself for being so weak, so fragile, so emotional.
Why do I even care when this isn't the worst thing that's going to happen to me in the coming months?
If anything, this should just prepare me for the nightmare my future holds with Ricardo.
A chill washes over me, and I close my eyes. Leaning against the counter on the far side of the kitchen, I desperately search my mind for something good, something happy, something to distract my racing thoughts.
Nothing comes. Not a picturesque beach. Not a fond memory of a loved one. Just the box cutter in my fist and the terrified look on Joshua's face as I stabbed him repeatedly.
Kill or be killed, Cora, I remind myself.
What if he's done this to other women before me? What if he planned on doing it to someone after? I must remember the good I've brought the world by getting rid of him. I bite at my lip and know damn well that's not how the real world works. I am not the judge, jury, and executioner, and no matter what Joshua planned on doing to me, it was wrong to kill him.
"Cora," Miller says on his way back into the kitchen. "I have to run, it's urgent." He approaches me, his expression turning concerned as his brows pinch together. "Are you okay?" He stops in front of me, his hands hovering near my face. "May I touch you?"
I nod and sniffle.
Miller palms both of my cheeks in his hands and wipes away my tears with his thumbs. "Everything is going to be fine; I promise. You have nothing to be afraid of." He pauses and then adds, "I've got you, okay?" Miller surprises me by tugging me toward him and pressing his lips gently to my forehead. He wraps me into a hug, again, and I wonder if it's possible to just go ahead and die right here, in his arms. At least then I'll be content with the world around me falling to shit. Nothing can hurt me with him around.
