20. Madelyn #3
Miles is texting on his phone and he locks his screen, shoving the phone in the back pocket when I ask the question.
“Somewhere nice, don’t worry about it.” He walks over to me and cups my face, pulling me in for a kiss. “The fewer people who know, the better. I don't want to risk the stalker finding our location. Now let’s pack your stuff. Do you have work this week?”
“Kaitlin knowing where we are isn’t going to risk our location, but fine. And yeah, I think I have two shifts at the coffee shop after classes on Wednesday and Thursday.”
“Any chance Kaitlin would be willing to cover them?” he asks, as he throws my blow dryer in my bag.
“Hey! Be careful with that! You’ve already almost broken it once and I can’t afford a new one. So unless you want my curls to look this frizzy every day, I suggest you treat that blow dryer with some respect. And no, she works both those days also, and I really could use the money.”
He chuckles at my blow dryer comment, as if I’m just messing around. I'm not, though, that thing cost more than the pair of jeans that I'm wearing so I'll make him buy me a new one if he breaks it.
“I can take care of you, Princess. We need to be serious about laying low until we find this guy. Every minute you spend away from the safe house is a risk. They could be watching you anywhere, and all it takes is one mistake. I just think it’ll be safer if you only leave when it’s absolutely necessary. ”
I know he’s probably right.
But I’ve fought too damn hard for the life I’ve built to let fear take it away from me.
I worked my ass off to get into this college.
I worked my ass off to earn every dollar sitting in my bank account.
It isn’t much, but it’s mine. I earned it, and the last thing I want is to depend on someone else to survive.
I’ll listen to almost anything Miles asks of me, but this... this is the line I can’t cross.
“My shifts are always after class,” I tell him. “I’ll leave campus and go straight to the coffee shop. I know you want to take care of me, Miles, and I appreciate that more than you know. But I didn’t get this far because someone else carried me. I got here because I refused to give up.”
I shake my head, holding his gaze. “Please don't take that away from me.”
He studies me for a long moment, weighing every possible outcome. I can practically see the argument raging behind his eyes, the instinct to keep me locked away somewhere safe battling against the knowledge that caging me would only make me miserable.
Finally, he lets out a quiet sigh.
“Alright,” he relents, leaning in to press a lingering kiss against my forehead. “But if that son of a bitch so much as breathes in your direction…”
His voice turns deathly calm, and a shiver races down my spine.
“I’ll make sure he regrets surviving the day he found you.”
When Miles said we’d be staying at a safe house, this wasn’t even remotely what I pictured.
Nearly forty-five minutes later, we turn onto a narrow road swallowed by towering trees and tangled vines until a massive wrought-iron gate comes into view. Miles taps something on his phone, and the gates slowly swing open.
I blink in shock. “I didn't even know you could open a gate with an app.”
He chuckles, steering us onto the long driveway.
Late-blooming cherry trees line either side, their branches stretching overhead until the driveway finally opens up to the largest house I’ve ever seen.
Calling it a house almost feels insulting.
A three-story stone mansion rises before us, its wings curving into a wide C-shape around a circular drive.
Perfectly manicured hedges frame the front of the estate, while an old fountain sits at its center, long abandoned.
The basin is bone dry, its once-white stone cracked from years beneath the California sun.
Thin streams of smoke curl from one of the many chimneys, the only sign that someone might actually be here.
“Who lives here?” I ask as Miles walks around the car and opens my door.
I step out, unable to tear my eyes away from the mansion. It’s breathtaking in a way I’ve only ever seen in movies. I can't help but wonder about the lives that unfolded inside these walls, the laughter they’ve heard, the memories they’ve kept.
I wonder what it would've been like to grow up somewhere that felt safe.
“I did,” Miles says. “Well... I used to. I don’t come here much anymore. Now it’s mostly Julius. He doesn't live here full-time, but he has a room and comes by every so often to keep the place from falling apart.”
I turn to him, completely blindsided.
I’d known Miles had money. Between his apartment, his car, and the effortless way he carried himself, it wasn’t exactly a secret.
But this?
This wasn’t just money, this was generational.
He catches the look on my face and smiles, lifting my hand to his lips. His kiss is featherlight against my knuckles before he slips his arm around my shoulders and presses another kiss to the top of my head.
“C’mon,” he says softly. “There’s someone very important I’d like you to meet.”