MILES
OVER THE LAST few days, I’d gotten into the habit ofgrabbing my phone the second it vibrated, hoping, pathetically, that it wasanother text from Gray.
He’d checked in on me a coupleof times a day this week, but things had been quiet. I couldn’t justify askinghim to come to the office or my apartment without looking desperate and needy.
I liked getting the texts,though, and I was always eager to read them even if I didn’t answer rightaway out of fear that he’d know I was hovering over my phone, waiting to hearfrom him.
This time, I answeredautomatically without even looking at the number.
“Miles,” my father enthusedas soon as I picked up.
Shit.
Not that I would havescreened his call or anything, but I would have liked a second to be mentallyprepared for him. Especially when it was him and notGray, who I’d really beenhoping it was.
“Dad,” I responded. “Issomething wrong?”
“Does there have to besomething wrong for your old man to check up on his only kid?” he asked.
“I, uh… I guess not.”
“I was just wondering howyou were holding up,” my dad continued. “Any updates from the police?”
I’d told him what hadhappened—after all,hewas the one actually signing Gray’s checks. But hewas also the one who’d insisted I needed the protection in the first place, sothat was on him.
“None,” I said. I knew Iwasn’t exactly a high-priority case, and I was okay with that. I wanted theresources to go to the people who needed them, not some rich asshole who’dgotten a little scared.
“I’ll give them a nudge.”
“Don’t,” I responded automatically.“Please, Dad. It’s okay. I don’t wanna put them under any more pressure thanthey’re already under. Crime fighting is probably hard.”
Crime fighting is probablyhardmighthave been the dumbest thing I’d ever said in my entire life.
“You have to be able to feelsafe in your own home.”
“That’s what Gray’s for.” Igrabbed a pen from my desk, twirling it around. If I hadn’t already known I wasstressed over this, that would definitely have clued me in.
Was I too old for one ofthose cute squishy cupcake things I’d seen kids with? Probably.
All the same, I would haveliked one right about now.
“Is he staying with you?”Dad asked.
“No,” I admitted. I knew Icouldn’t tell him I was… avoiding the guy, since he really believed this waskeeping me safe, but I couldn’t lie about him staying at my apartment.
First of all, there was onlythe couch or my bed for him to sleep in, and I wasn’t sure Gray would haveactuallyfiton the couch.
Secondly, my dad knew whereI lived, and if he was checking up on me, then there was every risk he plannedto drop by. I couldn’t let him find out I’d lied to him.
“You know you’re alwayswelcome at home,” he said softly. “Might feel a little safer with a secondperson around.”
I knew he meant well. I evenlikedmy dad, and part of me wished I got the chance to see him moreoften outside of work.
But I wasn’t giving up myindependence over a few missing files. No way. I’d worked too hard to get it,and to feel like I really had a grip on it.
Going back home—even temporarily—wouldhave felt like defeat.
My office door opening mademe look up, and I couldn’t have stopped myself grinning ear-to-ear when Isaw who was coming through it.
