Page 7 of Outspoken

Miguel comes up behind me. “Hey, you should really get some rest.”

I shake my head. “I need to clean. I won’t feel settled until it’s done.”

Maybe with Miguel here, I won't freak out. I'll be more likely to keep up appearances. I hate feeling exposed, even if it's only in front of Brody's hot friend, who probably knows all about my fucked-up life. I know Brody has confided in him about me. I understand that Brody needed to vent to someone about his crazy sister, but it sure makesthissituation uncomfortable.

“Don’t worry about it,” Miguel says in an upbeat tone. “You need rest. I'm completely rested, so let me do the cleaning.”

I stuff the pills in my pocket and step toward the couch. “No, that's too much to ask. I live here, so I'll clean.” I peel back one of the towels to reveal a dark stain on the couch cushion. Bile rises in my throat like I might puke the small bite of candy bar still waiting to be digested.

Miguel's strong, gentle hand falls on my shoulder. The firm pressure soothes me, like someone filling my body with warm honey.

“Let's do it together,” he says in that positive, pleasant tone of his. “We'll crush this faster as a team.”

Together.I'm not a 'together' kind of gal. Except for Paige, I hate letting others in. I hate asking for favors. I'm old enough that I should be able to handle my shit.

Miguel's hand on my shoulder and his closeness almost make me cry like I'm some stupid little kid who needs a hug. I swallow the lump in my throat and give in to his offer, but only so I no longer have to think about the blood. I'm also tired and he's right—two people will finish this faster.

I give in with a nod, and then we both get to work.

While I fight waves of nausea, Miguel is poised and focused, unaffected by what he's cleaning. He doesn't question me about why there's so much blood—he simply helps. His silence is a relief since I don't yet have the words to tell the story.

As I tackle the wall while he's on his knees scrubbing the carpet with a soapy brush—yellow gloves stretched thin around his thick hands and wrists—my mouth curves into a slight smile. It’s fun seeing him this way—a hot, muscular man doing housework.

Life is strange. I’m in the middle of a murder scene, yet that’s what I’m thinking about.

He catches my gaze and tips his head, asking, “What? Do I look too sexy right now?”

My smile grows. “A little.”

“Happy to be your maid.”

He winks, and I roll my eyes.Such a flirt.

After cleaning for an hour, there's less blood, though the stains on the carpet and couch won't fully come out. They'll need to be replaced, which means more money that Brody and I don't have.

With the living room looking closer to normal, the weight of every missed hour of sleep from the past two days crashes down on me. I grip the back of the couch for support, fearing I really might pass out.

Miguel is quick to move behind me, his body warm and his hands steadying my shoulders. “Now that we're done, probably a good time to rest, huh?”

I don't know what possesses me to lean back into him, noticing the subtle vanilla scent of his aftershave. Maybe I’m a lost puppy whimpering for a hug. Maybe lack of sleep has made me cuckoo. Regardless, his warmth is nice. The comfort of his presence is nice.

It's been too long since I've been close to a man like this, and my exhaustion must be making me delirious. Miguel is Brody's best friend. What I'm doing makes me no better than my brother when he got close to Paige behind my back. I’m happy they’re now in love, but he still broke his promise about not touching her.

Whatever.I'm not trying to build something with Miguel. He’s sweet, but we hardly know each other, and I don’t need the added stress of a relationship right now. What I need is to fix my fucked-up life and myself. I really don't know what I'm doing pressing into Miguel's solid, reassuring torso and enjoying it so much.

Without missing a beat, Miguel wraps his arms around me, engulfing me in his embrace. His breath heats my ear. “Wanna give me those pills? Your choice.”

The question catches me off guard and the lump in my throat grows with a vengeance.No, I don't want to.They’re mine. I desperately want to swallow them and forget.

Exactly why I can't keep them.

I shove a weak hand into my pocket to pull out the bag. Miguel doesn't try to snatch it or force me to surrender the drugs. He waits, holding me securely.My choice.I pinch a pill, feeling its round, solid shape. All my pain and distress and fear could go away in an instant if I only took one innocent-looking little pill.

But when the happy pill wears off, the world will crash back into me, leaving me raw and feeling worse than before as I crave more and more of these little pills. I need to face reality. It wouldn’t be one day of relief, it would become months of relapse. I need to stay sober to help Brody recover and to help Paige escape the guardianship her mom trapped her in. Paige saved me from an overdose a year ago. What kind of friend would I be if I retreat when she needs me the most?

I shove the bag into Miguel's palm and he steps back.

“One day at a time.”

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