25

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Ch25

"Where were you?" Miller demanded as soon as Brooks entered the house, his blond waves matted against his damp forehead.

Brooks reached behind and grabbed a small cloth that was hanging from the back of his shorts and wiped it against his moistened hairline. "I went for an early morning jog," he said in defense, his breathing still heavy from the run. "What's the matter, is everything okay? How's Claire?"

Miller let out a frustrated huff. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snap. She's fine, she slept all night, barely even moved." Miller ran his hand through his hair in agitation. There were too many things going on at once! Marie and Claire, the magazine, and now this meeting they were supposed to go to at Oliver's house. What was that even about? He said he'd be able to help their current situation, but that seemed unlikely. No one would be able to help him. "You're planning on going to the meeting later, right?"

Brooks walked into the kitchen and Miller followed. He watched as Brooks grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and swallowed it down in one long, thirsty gulp. "I'm planning on it," he finally answered, throwing the empty bottle into the trash. "I have nothing to lose."

"I can't imagine what he thinks he can do to help," Miller wondered out loud, rubbing his fingers to his forehead. "Unless he's able to take every single issue of that magazine off the shelves . . ." he said, his voice trailing off. "Do you want to go together? Anna promised to go with Claire to the doctor, her appointment is around the same time as the meeting so she won't be able to attend."

He'd barely spoken with Claire since the day before when she had confronted him with the pictures in the magazine. He planned to just lay low until after the meeting, then would tell her everything. There was no point in making her more upset than she already was, and he didn't need to get her all worked up before seeing the doctor. Whatever virus she had come down with sure was wreaking havoc. He wasn't used to seeing Claire this way. She might be soft-spoken but she was a rock, stronger than most people gave her credit for. Watching her now, growing more fragile by the day, was upsetting. He just hoped the doctor would be able to do something! After the meeting, he would make everything right with her. He would come clean about Marie and then take care of Claire the way he knew he needed to. It bothered him that he'd been too distracted to notice how sick she'd become, he should have been more attentive to her. If anything ever happened to her, he didn't know what he would do . . .

"Sure, why not," Brooks shrugged. He hesitated slightly before speaking again. "Hey, um, now that we're alone . . . Who was that girl in the pictures with you? Why were you with her?"

Miller plopped down into a counter stool and rested his face in his hands for a moment before finally looking Brooks in the eye. "I met her while I was doing research for Runaway," he confessed, the weight of his secret lifting slightly from his shoulders. He'd kept Marie to himself for so long it felt good to finally let it out. "I've been hanging out downtown for the past seven months pretending to be homeless. I wanted to see how they lived, to get a better idea of what life would be like."

"You've what?" Brooks shrieked incredulously, his voice bouncing off the kitchen walls. "That was a bloody dangerous stunt, dontcha think? I mean, what if something happened to you?" he demanded, a mixture of disbelief and anger written across his face.

Miller shrugged, "I was always careful, or at least I tried to be." He shook his head sadly. "Her name was Marie and I met her my first day out there."

"So . . . what?" he asked, dumbfounded. "Were you in love with her?"

"No!" Miller said, his eyebrows hitching together in annoyance. "Not in that kind of way, anyway. She was just a kid."

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