I lie in her bed with her nestled in the crook of my arm. It feels amazing to have her close to me once more. Her obsidian hair’s a mess from the many rounds we had last night, and I hope to do it much more very soon, but there are things I need to handle before I can savor her regularly. She might not realize it yet, but she’s mine, and I’m never letting her go ever again.
Mia stirs beside me and yawns before she opens those beautiful doe eyes of hers. Something’s bothering her, but part of me thinks it’s simply nerves about the two of us reconnecting. If she continues to be a bit nervous, I’ll ask her more about it later.
Still, she stares at me with the same gaze, but now she parts her lips. “There’s something I should’ve told you last night, but I was too . . . caught up in this, I guess.” She breaks our eye contact, and I hold her against me a bit closer, pulling the duvet over her shoulders. When we were young, she always liked to be wrapped up in blankets. It gave her a sense of security, and I’m hoping things haven’t changed too much.
“All right. Whatever it is, I’m sure it isn’t too bad. I can tell you’re nervous,” I admit, running my fingers over the duvet covering her back.
“It’s bad, Cillian, and I’m sorry I didn’t say anything before . . . but when you told me you were done with me, I didn’t want to tell you.” Mia’s voice catches in her throat for a minute, and I remember this is something that would happen when she had to share bad news.
“Whatever it is, it will be fine. You can tell me anything.” I say to her, now tangling my fingers through her long locks.
Mia takes a deep breath before locking her eyes with mine. “I was pregnant back then, and I had a baby girl, but she passed three weeks after she was born. The doctors said it was rare . . .” Her strong voice turns into a cracking whisper by the end of her statement.
Rage takes over every part of my body, but I’m not angry at her. I’m furious at someone else—at the man who made it so I couldn’t be there for her. The one man who threatened her . . . my father.
I pull Mia closer against my chest and press a kiss on her forehead. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that alone.” She wraps an arm around my chest and holds onto me like she’s a spider monkey.
Wetness begins to coat my chest, and I glance down to see she’s crying. “I wish I had told you, that I wasn’t alone . . . but I thought it would be worse. You didn’t want me, and all those things you said kept replaying in my mind. I figured I was better off without you.”
“I only said those things to hurt you because I knew if I hurt you badly enough, you’d never try to get me back. I knew what I was doing and that I had to push every button to get you to distance yourself from me. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything I said. I never meant a word of it. I was only trying to keep you safe.”
Mia nods against my chest and looks up at me. “I know, even if it was horrible. We’re two very flawed people, Cillian . . . and looking back at everything now, I’m kicking myself for not seeing it. I knew your father was powerful, but I never anticipated what my stepfather later told me.”
I shut my eyes at the reminder of my own father’s betrayal. He ordered a ghost hit on Mia, and I’ll do everything I can to keep her safe.
“You know I’ll need to leave so I can handle things,” I speak up.
“What do you mean by ‘handle things’?” Mia asks, beginning to sit up. She pulls the duvet with her, and I, too, sit up in bed.
“Would you rather I lie to you or tell you the truth?”
“The truth would be nice for once,” Mia snaps, and I try to not let it sting on a personal level.
“I’m going back to Italy, and I’m going to kill my father. He ruined us, Mia. But he did so much more than that. He’s the reason my own mother’s dead. He’s the reason my half-brother Keenan had to give up his dreams and raise the rest of our siblings. Those are only two things that directly affect me, but I know he’s done much worse. I don’t care if he’s dying already. He’ll die by my hand, not the fucking cancer.”