I pull her back into my arms, holding her close. "I'm terrified too. But I'm not going to run from this ... whatever this is."
She's quiet for a long moment, her head resting on my chest. I can feel her heart beating against my ribs. Finally, she speaks. "What do we do now?"
"I don't know." I press a kiss to the top of her head. "But we'll figure it out together."
She doesn't respond, but I feel her relax slightly against me. I hold her close, my fingers tracing patterns on her bare shoulder, and realize with startling clarity that I'm falling for her all over again.
And despite knowing it could destroy everything I've built, my career, my reputation, my friendship with her father, I can't bring myself to care.
Because having Mia in my arms again feels like coming home.
13
MIA
I wake to cold sheets and an empty bed. Jack left before dawn, slipping out like a thief in the night. At least I didn’t have to worry about the twins walking in on us. They're still with Sarah, who promised to keep them entertained for another day while I "got settled."
Settled. Right. Because sleeping with three different men in the span of a week is the definition of settled.
I roll onto my back and stare at the ceiling, my body still humming from last night with Jack. The man knows exactly how to take me apart and put me back together. But so does Blake. And Noah. God, I'm a slut!
My phone buzzes on the nightstand. A text from Blake asking if I'm okay. Another from Noah saying he's thinking about me. Nothing from Jack, but that's probably wise. He's my boss. We can't exactly exchange flirty texts that might get hacked.
I drag myself out of bed and into the shower, letting the hot water pound against my shoulders. The steam fills the bathroomas I try to wash away the guilt clinging to my skin. It doesn't work. Nothing works.
By the time I'm dressed in jeans and a simple sweater, my phone shows three missed calls from my mother. I call her back while making coffee.
"Mia, thank God." Mom's voice is breathless with relief. "Your father is having a good day. A really good day. Can you come over?"
My hand freezes on the coffee pot. "A good day?"
"He's sitting up. He ate breakfast. He's asking about you." Her voice cracks slightly. "Please come. I don't know how long this will last."
Twenty minutes later, I pull up to my childhood home. Taking a deep breath, I walk to the front door. Mom opens it before I can knock, pulling me into a tight hug.
"He's in the living room," she whispers against my hair. "Be patient with him."
I nod and follow her inside. The house smells like cinnamon and coffee, comforting and familiar. Dad sits in his recliner by the window, and I'm shocked by how much better he looks. He's wearing actual clothes instead of pajamas.
"Hi, Dad." I hover in the doorway, unsure of my welcome.
He looks up from the newspaper in his lap. "Mia." His voice is still rough, but stronger than last time. "Sit down."
I perch on the edge of the couch while Mom settles into her chair, her hands twisting in her lap. The silence stretches between us, heavy with everything unsaid.
"How's the teaching job?" Dad finally asks, his eyes returning to the newspaper.
"It's good. The students are engaged. The curriculum is challenging but manageable." I keep my voice neutral, afraid that anything too personal could cause an argument.
"Riverside Academy is a good school." He turns a page without looking at me. "Jack runs a tight ship."
My stomach clenches at Jack's name. "He's a good principal."
"Heard he got divorced a few years back." Dad's tone is casual, but I sense the undercurrent. "Shame. He and Sarah seemed solid."
Mom shoots him a warning look that he ignores.
"These things happen," I say carefully, my fingers digging into the couch cushion.
