Chapter 17 #2
The hotel was on the other side of downtown Phoenix Ridge, a boutique place Astoria had found that was small enough to be discreet but nice enough that the staff didn’t ask questions.
It was different from last time and the time before, their choreography designed to leave no patterns for anyone to find, especially Valerie.
But tonight, Miller noticed every face in the lobby, every flicker of recognition that wasn’t there.
Astoria was already there when Miller knocked on the door—three quick taps, their signal.
The door opened, and there she was: barefoot, still in her work clothes but with the blazer discarded and her hair loose around her shoulders.
She looked soft in the low light of the room, unguarded in a way Miller hadn’t seen her anywhere else.
“Hey,” Astoria said, and the word was warm and familiar. Then her expression shifted and a shadow crossed her eyes. “What’s wrong?”
Miller stepped inside, letting the door fall shut behind her.
The room was the same as every other hotel room: neutral colors, expensive sheets, the anonymous comfort of a space that belonged to nobody.
She’d started associating that anonymity with safety.
Tonight, it felt like a thin shield against everything pressing in from the outside world.
“That obvious?” Miller tried to smile and felt it fall flat.
“You texted ‘I’ll tell you when I see you.’ That’s not your usual style.” Astoria hadn’t moved toward her, hadn’t reached for her the way she usually did. She was reading Miller the way she read everyone. “Talk to me.”
Miller crossed the room toward the window and looked out at the city lights beginning to glow against the darkening sky. It was easier to say this without looking at Astoria’s face. “I had coffee with Rachel this morning. She wanted to warn me about something.”
“Warn you about what?”
Miller hated the way Astoria’s voice sounded guarded, as if bracing for impact.
“Valerie.” The name tasted vile. “She’s been asking questions. About me, specifically. Why I really recused, what conflict could have come up mid-case, things like that. She keeps telling Rachel that I would’ve fought harder for her, that things were going better when I was on the case.”
Miller heard Astoria’s sharp intake of breath behind her but didn’t turn around.
“Rachel said Valerie has noticed you seem different lately too. Lighter and less defensive.” Now she did turn, needing to see Astoria’s reaction. “She connected it to when I left the case.”
Astoria had gone very still. It was her tell, the one Miller learned to recognize. When Astoria felt threatened, she didn’t flinch or flee. She froze, every muscle locked down and her face smoothing into something unreadable.
“She doesn’t have proof,” Astoria said, almost like her voice was disembodied. It wasn’t a question.
“Rachel doesn’t think so. If she did, she’d already be using it.” Miller pressed her back against the window frame, needing something solid behind her. “But she’s looking. Rachel said there’s something about her, a kind of relentlessness. Apparently, she doesn’t let things go.”
“No.” Astoria’s voice sounded hollow and tinny. “She doesn’t.”
The words hung between them, heavy with everything Astoria had told her the last time they were together: the years of being surveilled and tracked, the machine that ground you down so slowly and surely you didn’t realize you were disappearing until you were almost gone.
“I’m scared,” Miller admitted. “If she finds out—if anyone finds out—it's not just me. It's you. It’s your reputation, your case. Valerie would just use this as proof that I was compromised and sabotaged your case before I recused myself. None of that is true, of course, but it would look true. And you’d be caught in the middle of it.”
Astoria moved then, finally, crossing the space between them. She stopped just short of touching Miller, her hands hovering at her sides like she wasn’t sure she had permission.
“What do you want to do?” Astoria asked.
“I don’t know.” Miller’s throat felt tight and parched. “We’ve been careful. We’ve gone to different hotels at different times, no patterns. But I keep thinking what if being careful isn’t enough? What if someone’s already seen something? What if—”
“Miller.” Astoria’s hand came up to caress her face, gentle and grounding. “Stop. Breathe.”
Miller closed her eyes and let out a shaky exhale. Astoria’s palm was warm against her skin, her thumb tracing a slow arc across Miller’s cheekbone.
“What do you want me to do?” Miller asked, opening her eyes. “Because if you want to stop, if you think the risk is too high, I need you to tell me. I won’t be the reason your divorce gets thrown into chaos. I refuse to be the weapon Valerie uses against you.”
Something shifted in Astoria’s expression, a crack in the rigid stillness, something raw bleeding through.
“I don’t want to stop,” Astoria said quietly. “I know I should. The safe thing would be to walk away until the case is over. But I—” She stopped, her jaw tightening. “I’m not ready to lose this, whatever this is.”
“Neither am I.”
Astoria’s hand slid down to Miller’s shoulder, gripping it lightly. “We’ll space out the meetings even more and vary everything. We’ll be smarter about it.”
“And if that’s not enough?”
Astoria didn’t answer for a long moment.
When she did, her voice was steady, but Miller could hear the fear underneath it, the same fear that had been festering in her own chest all day.
“Then we’ll deal with it when it happens.
But I’m not giving you up just because Valerie is paranoid.
” Her grip tightened. “She’s taken enough from me. She doesn’t get to take this too.”
Miller reached up and covered Astoria’s hand with her own. They stood like that in the fading light, the city humming twenty-one floors below, the weight of everything said and unsaid pressing around both of them.
This was the first time the outside world had really intruded on their own little bubble, leaking through the cracks. Miller could feel it changing the texture of everything: the room, the air, the space between their bodies.
“I’m sorry,” Miller said. “For bringing this here. For making tonight about fear instead of—”
“Don’t.” Astoria cut her off. “Don’t apologize for telling me the truth. I’d rather know.”
She would, Miller realized. After so many years of manipulations, never knowing what was real or calculated, Astoria would always rather know. Even when knowing was terrifying.
Miller leaned forward and pressed her forehead against Astoria’s, their breath mingling in the small space between them.
“Okay,” she whispered. “Okay, we’ll be more careful. We’ll figure it out.”
“Together,” Astoria whispered so faintly Miller almost didn’t hear it.
“Together,” she echoed.
The word felt like a promise and a plea, and Miller wasn’t sure which one they needed more. Miller could feel Astoria’s pulse beneath her palm where their hands were still joined, quick and unsteady.
“I hate this,” Miller said quietly. “I hate that she’s in my head, even when I’m here with you.”
“She’s good at that.” Astoria’s voice was brittle. “Getting inside heads and taking up space.”
Miller pulled back just enough to look at her. Astoria’s face was drawn, the softness from earlier replaced by something guarded. She looked defensive, like the way she had in those early days.
She couldn’t stand it.
“Hey.” She tilted Astoria’s chin up with her finger gently until their eyes met. “She’s not here. It’s just us.”
“I know.” But Astoria’s gaze flicked toward the door, just for a second, as if expecting it to burst open.
“Astoria, look at me.”
She did, and Miller saw the fear underneath the composure, the way Astoria was holding herself together through sheer force of will. This was what Valerie had done to her. She was unable to feel safe even behind a locked door, twenty-one floors above the city, in a room no one knew they were in.
“She doesn’t get to have this,” Miller said fiercely. “She doesn’t get to be in this room with us, not tonight.”
“Miller—”
“I meant it.” Miller’s thumbs traced along Astoria’s cheekbones. “I’ve spent all day terrified. I don’t want to spend tonight that way too. I want—” Her voice caught. “I just want to be here with you. Just you, no ghosts.”
Astoria’s breath shuddered out of her. Her hands came up to grip Miller’s wrists, holding on like Miller was the only solid thing in the room.
“I don’t know how to turn it off,” Astoria admitted. “The fear. It’s like…she trained me to expect the worst, to always be waiting for the other shoe to drop.”
“I know.” Miller leaned in, pressing her lips to Astoria’s forehead. “I know.”
“I’m so tired of being afraid.”
The words were barely a whisper, cracked at the edges. Miller felt them like a physical ache in her chest.
“Then let me help you forget,” she murmured against Astoria’s skin. “Just for a little while, let me remind you what this is actually about.”
She felt Astoria’s sharp intake of breath and the slight tremble that ran through her.
“What is it about?” Astoria asked, and the question sounded genuine, like she needed to hear Miller say it.
“You. Me. The fact that I cannot stop thinking about you, the fact that when Rachel was warning me this morning all I could think was that I didn’t care what it cost because I wasn’t willing to give this up.
” She swallowed hard. “It’s about the way you looked at me that first night, like I was something you'd been waiting for without knowing it,how you make me feel more alive than I've ever felt in my entire life.”
Astoria’s eyes were bright, her composure crumbling. “Miller.”
“I’m here,” Miller said. “I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere. Not tonight, not because she’s paranoid, not because the outside world is complicated and scary. I’m staying.”