Chapter 5
CHAPTER
FIVE
MILES
Ican’t stop thinking about what just happened.
Tracey—or whatever her name was—showed up as a ghost dropped straight out of Miranda’s past, and within seconds, she managed to wreck her. One look, one cruel smirk, and Miranda crumbled.
I’ve seen her upset before—frustrated, overwhelmed, even teary-eyed, but this was different. This was raw. It was fear.
Now, sitting at the edge of the dance floor, I can’t make sense of any of it. She’s out there with Anna again, her arm wrapped around her best friend’s waist, both of them laughing like nothing ever happened. If I hadn’t been standing right next to her at the bar, I’d swear I’d imagined it.
But I didn’t. I felt her shaking. I held her while she cried.
And then—just like that—she wiped her face, reapplied her lip gloss, and walked straight into the crowd as if she hadn’t just come face-to-face with something that turned her to stone.
I sip my drink and pretend to listen to Jaden, who’s sitting beside me, going on about how proud he is of Anna. I nod, throw in a “yeah” and a “she deserves it,” but my eyes keep drifting back to Miranda.
She’s stunning tonight, of course. She always is. Her hair’s come a little loose from the updo, and her smile is bright and easy, lighting up her whole face. She looks happy. If I didn’t know better, I’d believe she really is.
But I do know better.
The way her body tensed when that woman said Clive’s name—it was like her whole world tilted. Her breathing changed, her pulse jumped under my hands, and for a second, I thought she might pass out. I’ve seen fear before, but never like that.
And the worst part? I have no idea why.
Miranda’s always been private about her past. She talks about her work, her friendship with Anna, and random bits about growing up together, but never specifics.
No stories about high school, no mentions of family beyond vague comments.
I’ve never pressed because she’s always been this calm, put-together, sunshine-in-human-form kind of woman.
The kind who seems untouched by anything ugly.
Now I’m realizing that was naive.
She told me not to ask questions. She made me promise not to look her up online. And I meant it when I said I wouldn’t—but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t dying to know.
Because something about that exchange tonight wasn’t just awkward. It was heavy. Like, there’s a part of her life that’s dangerous or painful enough that she’s built an entire wall around it.
“Man, you good?” Jaden asks, nudging my arm.
I blink and refocus. “Yeah. Just tired.”
He doesn’t look convinced. “You’ve been watching Miranda like a hawk for ten minutes.”
I shrug. “Was I? Oh, I’m just zoning out, I guess.”
I want to tell him about the weird run-in at the bar earlier and how some woman she used to know rattled her, but I can’t. I made a promise to Miranda. Anything I say to Jaden would get back to Anna, and Miranda would be crushed that I betrayed her. I could never do that.
“You sure you’re okay?” he asks again.
“Yeah, man. I think I’m crashing from a daylong adrenaline rush. Did I tell you that I met Jennifer Aniston and Meryl Streep? Oh, and I got a selfie with Jack Nicholson. Isn’t that insane?”
Jaden chuckles. “Yeah, heard all about it. And I get it…It’s been a long day.”
I glance back toward the dance floor. Miranda’s laughing again, head tipped back, Anna’s arm slung over her shoulders.
They’re glowing with joy. Not a shadow of discomfort remains from the earlier incident.
It’s strange. Apparently, Anna isn’t the only brilliant actor among us.
Miranda could be holding one of those golden statues with this performance.
“Yeah,” I say.
Jaden nods, distracted by someone calling his name, and I’m left alone again with my thoughts.
I watch Miranda toss her head back and spin around in her glittering gown, her laughter swallowed by the music. She looks effortless. Untouched. And it messes with me more than it should.
How can someone switch off their pain so easily? How can someone break down one minute and beam like sunshine the next?
I want to help her. God, I want to. But she made it clear—she doesn’t want my help, doesn’t want my questions, doesn’t want me digging into the shadows she’s hiding.
So I won’t.
But as I sit here, watching her smile like nothing happened, I realize something else. I don’t just care because we’re friends.
It’s more than that.
It’s the way my chest tightens when she laughs. The way I can still feel her shaking in my arms. The way I’d do anything to keep her from ever looking that scared again.
She might think she’s fine. She might think she can outrun whatever’s haunting her.
But I saw it tonight. The ghosts are still there.
And whether she wants me to or not, I’m not letting them get anywhere near her again.
Exhausted from the day, the four of us leave the Oscar party a little after two in the morning.
As we make our way out, we stop every few feet for selfies. Anna insists on capturing every moment.
“I want to remember everything about this perfect night,” she says. “Let’s take a couple more—one where we look silly and one where we look hot.”
“You’ve looked hot in every picture we’ve taken tonight,” Jaden declares.
Miranda shoots Anna a smile. “He’s not wrong.”
I hold my phone out for one last picture. “Okay, one more. Say cheese.”
I take the picture, and Anna reminds me to send it to her.
Outside, the cool night air hits us, and Anna shivers dramatically. “I want to say I’m freezing, but now that I live in Michigan, I’m very aware that this isn’t that cold.”
“Right?” Miranda agrees. “It changes one’s perspective, that’s for sure.”
“I’m starving,” Anna says, wrapping her arms around her middle as Jaden drapes his tux jacket over her shoulders. “I’ve barely eaten all day.”
“Same.” Miranda nods. “What’s open?”
Anna gasps. “Oh! That burger place we love! Doesn’t a greasy burger sound amazing right now?”
“Oh-em-gee… yes,” Miranda groans.
Twenty minutes later—after a quick pit stop to pick up the Oscar—we’re crammed into a red vinyl booth at a classic Hollywood burger joint that looks like it hasn’t changed since the fifties. Neon lights hum in the windows, and the smell of grilled meat and fries is nothing short of divine.
Anna’s Oscar sits in the middle of the table between a basket of fries and a half-empty bottle of ketchup.
“Is it weird that we have a golden trophy sitting on the table?” Jaden asks.
I can’t help but laugh. The pit stop to retrieve the award was definitely sponsored by alcohol.
Anna smirks, popping a fry into her mouth. “She deserves a little people time.”
“She?” I ask.
“Yes, she,” Anna quips.
“Babe,” Jaden chimes in, “the statue is a guy.”
Anna shakes her head. “No, it’s not. It’s androgynous. The gender is open to interpretation, and I say she’s a girl. Right, Miranda?”
Miranda closes her mouth around a french fry. “Oh, um… You know what? You won the award, so I say you can call it whatever you want.”
“But you agree that it could easily be female, just as it could be male?” Anna presses.
“Oh, absolutely,” Miranda answers, and while Anna is a little too tipsy to hear the amusement in Miranda’s voice, I hear it loud and clear.
I nudge Miranda’s side, and she turns to me, smiling.
Miranda leans her head on my shoulder, laughing softly. “So where are you going to keep her?” she asks.
Anna looks to Jaden. “I don’t know. What do you think, babe? The kitchen? Or the table in the front foyer so she can greet our guests?”
Jaden shakes his head with a laugh. “Whatever you want, babe.”
“I’d suggest somewhere safe. You don’t want her to get hurt,” I offer.
Anna bites her lip and nods. “True. We do hang around a lot of rowdy guys. I can see someone knocking her off the table. Yeah, maybe a less trafficked area, like the study, would be best.”
“I think that’s a good idea,” Miranda says, taking a sip of her chocolate milkshake. “Plus, she can change locations whenever you want.”
“That’s true,” Anna says in all seriousness, as if our current conversation isn’t trivial.
I glance down at Miranda—her hair slightly mussed, her makeup smudged, her smile loose and genuine—and a pressure builds in my chest. I circle my arm around her shoulders and pull her into my side.
She gives me a sweet smile, and all I can think is how badly I want to protect this woman with everything I am.
The girls’ restaurant suggestion is a hit. I’ve eaten many burgers in my life, but this one might be the best. We eat until our bellies are full and the yawns outnumber coherent conversation. I can’t keep a straight face when Anna announces that Lady Oscar is calling it a night.
“Hey,” she says, furrowing her brow and pointing an unsteady finger my way. “Don’t laugh at me.”
“I’m not.” I shrug. “I’m laughing with you, of course.”
My answer seems to placate her. She snatches the Oscar off the table and scoots out of the booth. Miranda slides her arm through the crook of mine, and we make our way outside.
The girls are a bit more intoxicated than Jaden and I. While I don’t love that Miranda probably drank more than usual to forget about her run-in with her past, I do like the way she’s let her guard down and allows me to take care of her.
Back at the hotel, we share hugs and goodnights in the lobby. Jaden and Anna head upstairs first, her Oscar tucked safely under her arm.
Miranda sways slightly as she turns to me. “That burger might’ve been the best thing I’ve ever eaten.”
“Yeah? Same here.” I grin.
She smiles, but there’s exhaustion in her eyes—the kind that goes deeper than just a long night.
“Come on, Sunshine. Let’s get you upstairs.”
She doesn’t argue. I guide her down the hall to her suite, her hand resting lightly in mine. She giggles when she drops her key card twice before I finally take it from her and open the door.
“Thanks,” she says quietly, slipping off her heels the second we’re inside. “I think I’m officially done for the night.”
“Yeah, you and me both.”
She moves to the mirror, fumbling with the pins in her hair. I step behind her, watching her reflection as she tugs at the delicate curls. “Here,” I say softly, brushing her hands away. “Let me.”
She blinks, her eyes meeting mine in the mirror. “You sure?”
“Yeah.”
Carefully, I remove each pin, one by one, until her hair falls in soft waves around her shoulders. She sighs. “You’re good at this.”
“I may have helped my sister once or twice,” I remind her. “So I’m basically a certified hairstylist.”
That earns a chuckle—small but real.
When she’s ready, she changes into a soft cotton sleep set and crawls onto the bed, the night finally catching up to her. I hover awkwardly by the door. “I’ll, uh, head out—”
“Miles?” Her voice is quiet, fragile.
“Yeah?”
Her eyes flicker open, hazy with sleep. “Will you stay? Just for a bit?”
She doesn’t ask for anything more. Doesn’t explain. But she doesn’t have to.
“Of course.”
I kick off my shoes and lie beside her on top of the blanket. She shifts closer, her head finding my chest. Her breathing slows, soft and steady against me.
Within minutes, she’s asleep.
I stare at the ceiling, one hand resting on her back, the other brushing her hair away from her face. There’s a peacefulness to her now that makes my chest ache.
If only it were that simple—just holding her and keeping the nightmares away.
I don’t know what happened to her, what she’s running from, or why that woman tonight sent her spiraling. But I know this much—whatever it is, she’s not facing it alone anymore.
Not if I can help it.