Chapter 21
chapter
twenty-one
MILES
I wake up cold. Freezing cold.
The kind that settles in your bones after a soggy hike and feverish sleep and delirium-inducing cold medicine.
For one blurry second, I don’t know where I am. Leather against my cheek. Low humming electronics. The Mystery Machine. Right.
My glasses are crooked. My neck hurts. My eyelids are heavy from whatever sleep-inducing syrup I took.
And Daisy—
I sit up too fast.
Bad choice. The room tilts immediately.
“This is really great,” I mutter hoarsely to nobody.
The blanket slips off my shoulders.
Daisy’s side of the couch is empty.
Her laptop sits open, comment notifications glowing across the screen. A mug of tea, gone cold, rests beside it.
The RV feels weirdly quiet. I scrub one hand over my face and squint toward the front windows—dusk has settled.
Gray light. Wet trees. No Daisy.
Something uncomfortable nudges low in my stomach.
Not panic, just awareness. Absence. Like my body already registered her being gone before my brain caught up.
I stand up and regret it.
It feels like the cold medicine has replaced half my blood with lead.
Outside the window, movement catches my eye.
Daisy.
Near the edge of camp, hoodie pulled tight around herself, pacing slowly with her phone pressed to one ear. Talking softly. Laughing once.
Something unpleasant twists in my chest.
I do not like how immediate that feeling is. Or how recognizable. Jealousy. Before I can spiral properly, the RV door swings open.
Cold evening air rushes in along with the distant sound of crickets.
Jax stomps inside first, carrying three grocery bags and looking energized after his ride.
Taylor follows with bags tucked under one arm, and Maya trails in behind her.
All three stop and look at me with pity. I’m sure I’m a mess with sticky, sweaty hair and shorts. My dignity is long dead.
Jax squints.
“Dude, I don’t know how, but you look worse.”
I narrow my eyes. “Don’t.”
“You look like a lost sailor wasting away from sea fever.”
Taylor drops supplies on the counter. “You alive?”
“Getting there.”
Maya sets down medicine bottles. “We brought cold meds.”
“I already took cold meds.”
“Clearly.”
Jax glances out the window.
Then back at me.
Then out the window again.
“She’s on a phone call,” he says. “Sounded serious.”
Taylor lifts one brow. Then casually says, “I think it’s her ex-boyfriend?”
“No,” I blurt.
Three heads turn toward me.
I clear my throat.
“I mean…”
Great start. Excellent recovery.
“She—probably not.”
Jax’s face lights up like a Christmas tree. “Oh my God.”
“No.”
“You said that fast. Like… so fast.” He starts laughing.
“I did not.”
“You absolutely did.”
Taylor folds her arms.
“Please, Miles, we all know you have a crush on her. But don’t make this weird. We listened to the first episode on the drive into town. We think—” she turns and looks at Maya and Jax for backup—“well, we think this could be our moment. We need this to work.”
Something unpleasant lodges under my ribs.
My mouth moves before my brain provides rational thoughts.
“She doesn’t talk about an ex.”
Silence.
Maya blinks once, slowly, annoyed.
Jax grins.
Taylor looks both confused and very entertained.
I realize, too late, what I’ve done.
“I’m sick,” I say, forcing a cough.
“That,” Maya says carefully, “does not explain any of… this. Rein it in, Miles.”
“I’m fine, I promise.”
Taylor nods toward the window. “She’s been outside for a while now. She looked cold.”
Why is she still outside then? Why is that information upsetting? And why do I suddenly dislike hypothetical men I haven’t met or even heard of?
Jax’s grin sharpens. “Buddy,” he says, smiling at me.
“I’m not your buddy,” I reply.
“You’ve gotta chill.”
I hate all of them. Equally. Passionately.
“I’m going outside,” I announce.
Jax gasps theatrically. “Oh my God, he’s going outside.”
“I’m checking on her.”
Taylor’s mouth twitches. “Okay, but seriously, don’t fuck this up. Sure, for you, but also for us. We kind of need her.”
“No, for sure. I’m just going to check on her.”
They all stare at me.
“Because she’s sick.”
“Mm-hmm,” Taylor winks.
“And alone.”
“Right,” Maya rolls her eyes and pushes past me to put groceries away.
“And it’s cold.”
“Sure, man. Whatever you need to tell yourself.” Jax pats me on the back as he follows Maya.
I groan and step outside before they can say anything worse.
The air hits sharp and fresh in that post-rain way.
Rain-clean. Everything smells like wet pine and damp earth. I take a deep breath and feel more awake already, the medicinal fog beginning to lift from my brain.
Daisy stands farther out near the trees, back turned slightly toward camp. Her voice drifts through the quiet.
“I don’t know… I don’t know what I want anymore.”
I stop. Shit, this does sound like a conversation with an ex. My body starts to pulse with jealousy and anxiety. She’s looking out towards the trees, faintly shaking her head. Whatever they’re talking about, it’s clear she’s struggling with it.
“I… I don’t know,” she sighs. A pause, and then: “What I believe yet.”
Something in her tone catches. Her shoulders are tense and she has one hand pushed into her pocket.
“…No,” she says quietly. “I know credibility matters.”
A strange feeling moves through my chest. Okay, maybe this is more work related. She laughs once, humorless. “No, I’m not saying I believe anything at this point.”
Pause. Longer. Wind moves through dripping branches overhead.
Then: “So you really don’t think they’d go for it if there is an actual discovery? Even if it provides some closure or sets it up for something else?”
Daisy’s body slumps. Whatever response she got, it wasn’t the one she wanted. “Okay, so…. maybe it is safer if I don’t take a stance. Like, I just disconnect? Stay objective?”
Something cold slips into my stomach. Safer.
I shift closer. Too close, probably.
“No, I mean, I—I really like these guys. But I guess I could?”
Could what? My heart hammers in my chest, wanting to know where she was going with that.
“…I could always frame it differently?” Daisy says, her voice high. “Like, it’s emotional. Interesting. Weird. But at the end of the day, it’s all just fun, or funny, or something? I don’t know, Marissa.”
My body goes still. I’m not angry. Yet.
Fuzzy cold medicine brain suddenly razor sharp.
“…No,” she says after a beat, softer now. “I know, I know. It protects the network.”
The woods feel strangely silent. But that might just be my ringing ears.
I look back toward the Machine. Toward the team inside. Everyone’s exhausted and trying so hard.
Daisy turns, and sees me, sliding her phone from her ear to her chest. Her eyes go wide, and the color drains from her face.
“Oh.”
Neither of us moves. For one stupid second, I almost pretend I heard nothing. Almost. Then something uglier wins. Something hurt. Something so sudden and protective that it’s stupidly, humiliatingly vulnerable.
“Good to know,” I say.
Her expression shifts to alarm. “Miles,” she says, her voice tight as she strides towards me.
“No, really.”
My voice sounds foreign to my own ears.
Too calm. Too careful.
“Helpful clarity.”
“That’s not—”
“No?” I laugh once, short and thin. It sounds bad even to me.
“I gotta go. Love you, Riss. I’ll call you back,” she fumbles with her phone as she rushes to end the call, then shoves the phone into her pocket.
“You only heard part of that conversation.”
“Enough of it.”
“Miles—”
“Did you really mean what you said? It’d be safer to make fun of us than stand up for us?”
Her face tightens.
“That’s not what you think.”
Something hot flashes under my ribs.
“You think I don’t know what people say?”
She blinks. “What?”
“About me.”
My throat works once. Hard. “About this.”
I gesture toward the woods. Toward the Machine. Toward all of it.
“Crazy guy chasing monsters. Conspiracy man. Guy who never grew out of believing in monsters.”
“That’s not true.”
“No?” I step closer. “Because it kind of sounds like you’re workshopping how to package us into something digestible. Something you can distance yourself from.”
Hurt flashes across her face, quick and sharp.
“Us?”
“The team,” I correct too quickly.
“Miles.”
“You said ‘joke.’”
“I said ‘safer.’”
“You said ‘not real.’”
“I said ‘maybe!’”
Her voice breaks on the word, reverberating through the trees.
“I’m trying not to ruin my career,” Daisy says, quieter now. “You don’t understand what this is like. It’s not just about investors or me—I have employees who need this paycheck. If I go under, so do they.”
Anger flares in my chest.
“No,” I say, colder than the wind blowing between us. “You’re right, I don’t.”
She flinches, crossing her arms. I look away toward the trees, and when I look back, her eyes are watery and red.
I release a breath, willing my shoulders to loosen, even just a little. “Do you know how hard it is for me to trust people with this?”
Her face softens, which somehow makes it all hurt more.
“No,” I correct myself, my voice rougher now. “Actually, not just with this.” I swallow. Damn cold medicine. Damn fever. Damn all of it. “I trusted you with me.”
Her mouth parts slightly.
I keep going. “I let you in.” This feels brutal. Honest in a way I already regret. “I trusted you,” I say, my voice cracks slightly.
Her eyes shine with tears. “Miles, that isn’t fair.”
“No?” My laugh comes out ugly again. “I thought someone finally saw me and wasn’t already planning the version they’d be comfortable showing everyone else.”
That one lands with her—I see it. Good.
Wait, no. Not good.
I’m just… I’m hurt. And as much as I want to feel understood in this moment, I’m not trying to punish her with—or for—my pain. And I hate that she can see it.
She shakes her head incredulously. “You think I’m… what? Exploiting you?”
“I think I overheard the woman I’ve fallen in—”
I stop. Too late. Way too late. Everything freezes. The woods. The air. Her. Me.
I stare at the wet ground.
My pulse pounds in my ears.
Daisy’s voice goes very quiet, a single tear sliding down her cheek.
“The girl you what?”
I look away, my eyes welling. Cold medicine and fever and feelings and stupidity collide into one overwhelming disaster.
“Nothing,” I say hoarsely. “Forget it.”
I turn to head back to my bunk where I spend the rest of the night in a restless, drug-hazy sleep.