Chapter 40: Chapter 40

◇ KEL ◇

We'd been hiding out in the men's room for about half an hour now.

If it were up to me, we'd be past the Emergency Room at this point, getting xrays, laboratory requests and all that. But Miles didn't even want to step out of the lavatory.

I couldn't just drag him out the door even if I tried—he was easily twice my size. His arms and upper body seemed more defined and muscular now. His free time must've been spent in the gym lately whenever he wasn't dating random girls he met at bars and clubs.

Although I didn't want to admit it, it kind of hurt imagining him with other girls...going on dates, taking them out to dinner, hanging out with them as often as he wanted. His new job in his family's shipping company must be that tedious that he had to find new hobbies.

Sure. I didn't want to be judgmental about it...but sometimes the jealousy just swept over my common sense and made me forget we were never in a relationship. But I wouldn't tell him any of that. He would just find it weird. Bothersome. A waste of his time. He'd just tell me to concentrate on school. Mind my own business.

"You two hang out all the time now?" Miles scrunched his brows at me, no longer panting as if he'd just jumped off a treadmill.

I turned slightly to give him a once-over. No more beads of sweat, impenetrable scowls, excessive swearing or pain-filled groans. He must be feeling better?  "No."

"Really."

"He just wants to help." I sighed. Why were we discussing Enzo again? Like he really did not trust Lorenzio at all.

"With what?"

"I'm just worried the cops won't find Nicco alive," I replied, mumbling the words as my thoughts evoked more suspicions. A minuscule gut feeling told me Niccolo was still alive, though.

"Lorenzio told you he's gonna help find Niccolo?"

"Yeah."

"Really."

"I first asked him about it when we were...about to leave Umbria."

"What's in it for him?" Miles crossed his arms and stared at the wall. His frown denoted doubt and confusion.

His cynical tone made me focus on his face. Why did Enzo make him see red every time we talked about the guy?  "He just wants to help. Is that so hard to believe?" I kept still when Miles took two steps closer.

A quiet laugh was his initial response, as if my reply sounded totally ludicrous. "Men like him, Mykaela...they never 'just want to help'."

"What is your problem with him? Aren't you doing business together?" I tried not to scowl. My feet just itched to get to the door. If all we were going to do was argue about Enzo all day, I'd rather have lunch alone and in peace. I headed towards the door to leave him by himself, but Miles caught my arm.

In seconds, he reached the door and stood against it, facing me now.  He put his arms around me to pull me closer. The fabric of his pants scratched my thighs while his hand on my back lifted the hem of my dress. "How's school?" He stroked my cheek, his gaze centered on my face.

The surprising gesture left me too stunned to resist or move. Just minutes ago, he wouldn't even let me touch him and now...

"You like your classmates and professors?"

"They're okay," I muttered. My head rested on his shoulder, and my lips almost touched his jutting chin. I loved the scent of his skin.  "Still in Brichese most of the time?"

"Yeah." Miles tightened his hug until his clean-shaven jawline touched my cheek. "The house is too quiet now."

I sighed. In all honesty, I missed the house we shared for almost a year.  But not as much as I missed the days and nights I'd spent with him alone in Italy.

"Left a lot of stuff in your room." Miles cleared his throat. "They're still in your closet."

"'Cause you bought me a lot of clothes," I said while trying not to smile. "Couldn't stuff them all in my luggage."

"Sometimes I use your bed...when I'm...losing sleep over things."

Oh. Because of the painful episodes? Like the one I just witnessed? Perhaps it was due to constant stress. It could be something worse, too. We wouldn't know for sure unless I take him to a specialist as soon as possible. Or maybe he already knew but just didn't want to involve me.

"Feel okay?" I  pulled away to check his lower eyelids. His complexion no longer looked ashen, but his quite blanched lips and fingernails still worried me.

"No." Miles left me by the door and rushed back to the sink. For the next seconds, his head hung low, and he kept retching, like he was choking on something.

I stood behind him and kept his hair away from his face. I watched him throw up nothing but a splodge of clear saliva. It looked sticky and thick.

"Just stay by the door," he mumbled in between retching noises.

The sound just made me mull over some things I still had no clear answers to. "You need tests, a blood panel. Did you see a specialist?"

Miles didn't respond. He coughed and strained to vomit nothing in particular.

Did he need my help? "I'll just drive you to the clinic. Okay?  It won't take a while."

"No."

"You have ulcers now?" I asked as doubt filled my mind.

"No." Miles spat in the sink three times. Spots of blood made his saliva pinkish.

"You take painkillers? How can I help?" I tied his shoulder-length hair using my scrunchie and just watched him wash off. Calm and quiet. Maybe he preferred it. But I just wanted to make his pain go away.  I shut my eyes.

His vexing reticence just kept thwarting my efforts.  Why wouldn't he just tell me what to do?

I stopped frowning at his blank expression. "So you won't let me help you?"

His shoulders squared amid the tension straining between us in the cold and spacious lavatory. The stretch of silence that followed stiffened me up.  "Fine." Miles took off his black shirt, baring his chest, revealing some pinkish scratches and yellowish bruises on the side of his abdomen.

"You've gotta be..." I immediately stepped closer to inspect the strange contusions. "Who did this?"

"Me." Miles pursed his lips into a thin line, watching my every reaction with his shadowed eyes.

"What? You mean, just now?"

"Used to it at this point." He put his shirt back on in just seconds. "The pills help."

"What?"

"I take something for pain relief. But I've run out."

So he needed to consume pain pills now on a regular basis?  "How... So your doctor prescribed you some meds? How much do you need? Dosage and frequency?"

Instead of answering, he took something out of his pocket and handed it to me. He placed the small plastic container on my hand when I didn't budge.

A sachet of...cocaine? What the heck? I blinked at the thing sitting on my palm. Fine. White. Powder. Definitely drugs.  "What's this for?" I mumbled while nervous sweat dampened my palms.

He stared at my hand for seconds. Then he pulled a face. "You said you wanna help."

Of course I did. But what next?  My heartbeat ratcheted up, my heart thumping almost painfully in my chest. My tense fingers clenched the plastic sachet. I bit on my lip as I stepped closer to him and noted his slumped posture.

What now? What exactly did he expect me to do?  I paused to take it all in, appalled that he resorted to illicit substances, and possibly abusing prescription drugs again.  Should I refer him to a pain management specialist? I wouldn't want him to see another doctor just to get addicted to a different brand of opioids.

In response, Miles let out a short sigh and wouldn't look at me. "It's just for the pain," he murmured as if he'd just read my mind. "I don't do it for kicks."

"You won't let me help, but you're glad to do it with other girls? That it?" I backed away from him and tried not to look so affected.

"I'm not arguing with you over this shit." Miles grabbed the sachet and shoved it back inside his pocket.

I took a step back when he stifled a groan. Then another. For the next few seconds, he winced and clutched the side of his waist, the skin nearer to his chest.

Stop the pain. Help him stop the pain. I held onto his arm to pull him towards the door. "ER. Now."

"No."

"I don't have all day," I complained.  "We have trainings later."

Before Miles could argue or say anything else, my phone went off. The loud rings echoed in the spacious restroom, instantly reminding me of Enzo just waiting outside.

"Who's calling?" Miles furrowed his brows. He stood still against the wall while I checked my phone.

"Enzo, probably." I looked away the second I caught his lips compress into a scowl.

"Of course," he muttered.

"Must be important." I tapped on the green phone icon. "Hey. Almost done. Sorry. Be back in a minute."

"I have good news and bad news," Enzo said in his familiar accent, not bothering to respond to my white lie. "Which do you want to hear first?"

"Um..." I looked at Miles and gripped my phone. "Good?"

"They found Niccolo," Enzo then announced with a quick sigh. "Bad news:  we can't get his body out of the coroner's."

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