I turn the tap off and dry my hands. Returning to the bedroom, I drag the chair from the corner and sit in it to wait.
Miranda sleepsthrough the night and most of the next day.
I’m in the kitchen when I hear it. A shift of weight above me, the creak of the bed. I set down my coffee and take the stairs.
The bedroom door is open. Ethan is curled up beside Miranda, his head on the pillow next to hers, his worn bear jammed under his chin. When Linda brought him home last night, he’d gone straight up the stairs without a word, like he already knew. Like he’d followed something in the air directly to her. I hadn’t stopped him. Let him have this time with her. He won’t be seeing her again.
Miranda is awake. Her fingers are combing through his hair gently, and she’s looking down at him. When I enter, her attention turns toward me, and I pause. The heat that’s usually in her eyes when she looks at me is gone. She just looks tired. Empty in a way I haven’t seen on her before.
“What am I doing here?”
Her voice is rough, like she hasn’t used it in a while. I don’t move away from the doorframe. I made a decision in that bathroom, and I am going to hold to it, even if standing here watching her costs me something.
“You missed three sessions.” I try to keep my voice calm, which takes effort because the more I look at her, the angrier I get. It’s not her fault she’s my fated mate or that I didn’t figure it out sooner. It’s not her fault that all my plans to have Ethan be with her are now trashed. “When you didn’t answer my calls, I came to find you.”
“Oh.” She looks down at her lap.
“I walked in on you being attacked. I didn’t know where to take you, so I brought you here. Why did you miss practice?”
Her eyes lift to meet my gaze, and her voice is so empty when she answers that it has my wolf raising its hackles. “I had something going on.”
The way she’s behaving, the way she’s gone so quiet, it’s irritating me. She fights back. That’s what Miranda does, that’s who she is. So why isn’t she asking questions? Why isn’t she trying to defend herself? It’s not her first or second time being attacked. She never let it faze her before.
It’s pissing me off. Something about seeing her like this, still, folded in on herself, sits in my chest like a splinter I can’t get out. She looks so helpless and fragile, lying in my bed. She’s not supposed to be like this.
“This contract isn’t something you can treat so lightly,” I say, my voice hard. “I recommended you to the coach. When you pull shit like this, it’s my reputation on the line.”
Miranda doesn’t look at me. “I’m sorry.”
Fight back, damn you!
I grind my teeth. “It was bad enough that you missed one session. You missed three. We can’t sit around here waiting for you to feel up to clearing your schedule for us.”
My words are harsh, but she doesn’t so much as flinch. “You’re right.”
Again with that hollow edge to her voice.
“I’m voiding the contract, Miranda.” My own voice is considerably cold, and I watch her for a reaction. There’s nothing. “And one more thing.”
She doesn’t so much as move, just looking down at my son now. “I think it’s best if you don’t come around Ethan anymore.”
Something moves across her face, fast and involuntary, like she’s about to say something. Then it’s gone. “Why?”
This she cares about. Being away from my son upsets her. My wolf is miserable right now. So am I, but I don’t show it.
“The danger that follows you,” I say, my voice tense. “Kozlov. Those men knew where you lived. I kept telling you to let me deal with your debt, but you’re so stubborn. I will not have that near Ethan. I don’t know when they will attack you next. What if he is there? You might not care about your own life, but there’s no reason to put my son’s life in danger as well.”
Her lips part as she makes a soundless noise, and her fingers, which had been running through Ethan’s hair, still. Then she retracts her hand. “I understand.”
I wait. I don’t know what for, but I hold my breath. Surely she will fight this. But her eyes are fixed on Ethan’s sleeping face, and her expression is blank. All she utters is “Oh.”
I had expected something from her, some form of resistance, anger maybe, some name-calling. But she just surrounds herself in a silence so deafening that it has my wolf throwing itself against the cage that is the confines of my mind. Miranda Carver without her fight is not something I know how to account for.
This is good. This is better. We both walk away with a clean break. I’ll handle her debt privately. She’s my mate. I can do that much for her. She can restart her life, and Ethan and I won’t be a part of it.
I walk over to the bed and pick up my sleeping son. Miranda’s gaze lingers on his small face, but she says nothing. I feel like a monster.
Walking to the door, I don’t look back as I say, “Once you’re recovered, go home.”
