Page 145 of Two Guys, a Girl, and a Tripod

“What are you doing? You sound like you’re working out.”

“I’m working,” I mutter. I’m going to have to pay more attention to my frustrated grunts.

“Since when did you become a wrestler?”

“What do you need, Isla?”

“Ok, ok, fine. Sheesh! Mom was asking me about your new girlfriend. I guess Raegan raved about her. Do you think you’ll still be together by Thanksgiving?”

I freeze. I hadn’t thought about holidays. If she’s still with us–withbothof us–how is that going to work? Not to mention that Raegan had barely five minutes with Sophie. I don’t know what there was to rave about, other than her beauty.

“I don’t know,” I answer honestly.

“No help, dude.”

“Thanksgiving is still two months away.”

“Fine, I’ll ask Miles.”

Oh, that’ll be a fun conversation. I hope I’m in the room for that.

She hangs up and I let my phone fall into my lap while my head drops backward against my chair. I need a break. Not from screens, but from this specific footage. It’s all the same, boring unmoving background with just the odd entrance or exit by Sophie or Natalie. On occasion, Miles or another performer pops in, but I’ve reviewed footage going back over a month now. Nothing has helped me to find Caleb and at this point, I’m sure Mel would act before telling me anything.

I’ve been lost to this woman from the moment she responded to my first message on KinkRink. I wish I could be with her all day, every day. I’ve never been a fighter, but I already know I’d die for Sophie Larson before I let Caleb get his hands on her. Watching over her from afar is agonizing. I need another distraction.

“Miles!” My voice echoes across the house while I stand in my office doorway.

“What?” His head pokes out from his studio, but when he sees his face, his whole body emerges. “Dude, you look like shit.”

I throw my arms up and leave the office, heading for the kitchen.

“I can’tdoanything,” I mutter.

“Context.” Miles approaches as I stand behind the couch, placing my hands on the back and hanging my head. I feel his hand on my back, an attempt to comfort, and my muscles bunch beneath his touch.

“Can you imagine what Sophie is going through?” I choke out.

“Mel is working on it, though, right?” His hand rubs in circles on my back. It’s comforting, like I’m a kid again, beeding comfort for being the shy, quiet one in class. “She’ll find him.”

I turn and Miles’ hand drags across my back and over my side, resting on my hip.

“But I can’t help.” The pressure in my chest threatens to overwhelm me. “Sophie, she’s out there trying to live her life and this- thisasshole-”

“We’ll work on your insults, buddy.”

“-is trying to ruin it all for her. This fuckface-”

“Better.”

“-is leaving these stupid notes.”

“He’s a fucking coward.”

“But what if he does something worse?” My eyes snap to his.

“What, like break down her door again?”

“No, what if-” I can’t breathe. “What if-?” Oh god, I really can’t breathe. The air rushes into my lungs too quickly and not quickly enough. My gaze falls to Miles’ hand on mywaist before it moves to my shoulder. He grips my other arm tightly, trying to shake me out of my panic.

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