Page 35 of Married to the Enemy

“Well,” Evangeline said cheerfully, eyes twinkling as she handed Mia a cup, “looks like we came back at just the right time.”

Jenny passed Raffe a coffee, her grin just as knowing. “Told you that they would figure it out.”

Mia’s cheeks flamed as she accepted a cup. Raffe muttered something under his breath, but he didn’t miss the sparkle of amusement in both women’s eyes.

Chapter 20

The steady beep of the heart monitor echoed through the recovery room, reassuring against the sterile quiet. The air carried that sharp tang of antiseptic, mixed with the faint hum of machines. Freddy looked impossibly small in the hospital bed, his legs wrapped in bulky bandages and carefully propped up on a foam wedge.

Raffe stood near the foot of the bed, arms crossed, shoulders tense. He hated seeing the kid like this—pale, groggy, with tubes taped to his hand. Even though the doctor had said everything had gone well, Raffe’s gut still twisted. Freddy was tough, but the road ahead would be brutal.

Mia slipped past him, her sweater brushing his arm as she leaned over Freddy. “Hey there, champ,” she whispered, her voice soft and brimming with relief.

Freddy’s eyelids fluttered, then cracked open. He stared blearily up at her, his lips twitching before he croaked, “Does this mean… I don’t have to do chores for a week?”

Mia laughed, tears catching in her throat. Evangeline, parked in her wheelchair just beside the bed, let out a delighted chuckle.

Raffe felt something shift in his chest—something warm, almost unexpected. The kid had just gone through hours of surgery, and his first thought was to make them laugh.

“That’s negotiable,” Raffe said gruffly, stepping closer. “Depends on how hard you milk it.”

Freddy gave a lazy grin before his eyelids drooped again, the medication pulling him back under.

Silence settled over them, but it wasn’t heavy anymore. It was lighter, filled with relief.

Mia stayed at Freddy’s side, her hand smoothing down the blanket. Then, almost without thinking, she reached out and found Raffe’s hand.

His breath caught. He hadn’t expected that. For a split second, he thought about pulling away. Touch wasn’t something he allowed himself, not here, not now, not with her.

But the warm weight of her fingers wrapped around his, small and warm, made something inside him soften. Slowly, deliberately, he tightened his grip around her fingers.

Mia’s eyes lifted, dark and shimmering, to meet his. The machines beeped steadily, Evangeline hummed under her breath as she rearranged Freddy’s pillows, but Raffe felt like the world narrowed down to that fragile connection between their hands.

Neither spoke.

Neither needed to.

For the first time in years, Raffe let himself believe—just for a moment—that just maybe, things could turn out alright.

Chapter 21

Mia wasn’t sure if this was heaven or hell.

Bringing Freddy home from the hospital had been like unleashing a whirlwind inside the Elizabethan house. The first few days were a blur of pain medication schedules, ice packs, pillows constantly being rotated to support his legs, and a revolving door of follow-up appointments. The hospital discharge nurse had rattled off instructions at lightning speed, as Mia had frantically scribbled notes she could barely read. Luckily, Raffe had handled most of it—he seemed to already know what to ask, what to double-check, and when to push back.

And push he did.

Raffe took a week off from his mysterious job, claiming he needed to “handle family business,” and Mia hadn’t missed the wry expression on his face when he said it. She still had no idea what he actually did for a living, but whatever it was, people listened when he called. Papers were signed faster, appointments were scheduled sooner, and Freddy’s recovery seemed to go into overdrive.

Then, there was Jenny. The social worker had shown up with donuts one day, hot chocolate another day, and books or a new board game for Freddy to play while he was recovering. Jenny seemed to genuinely care, and she had news: the other kids from the Fullers’ house had been placed in new, safer homes. “I’ll continue to check in on them,” she promised, adjusting her glasses while jotting notes on her clipboard. “Just to make sure no one slips through the cracks.” Freddy had listened quietly from the couch, his face blank, but Mia had caught the relief in the way his shoulders relaxed.

Yes, this was chaos. Absolute chaos. But heavenly chaos.

In the middle of it all, Raffe had taken control of their kitchen. He cooked all week, refusing to let Freddy or Evangeline subsist on sugar and fried foods. He teased and challenged them into trying grilled chicken, fresh fruit, even kale, disguising vegetables with spices until Freddy devoured them without complaint. The boy was all in—determined, focused, eating every bite of broccoli like it was fuel for his future.

Evangeline, on the other hand, was another battle entirely. At seventy-five, she had declared it her mission to sample every fast-food joint in the area—burgers, tacos, fried chicken, even a milkshake taste-test. Since she couldn’t drive, she had grudgingly compromised: one binge day a week, in exchange for healthy eating the other six.

Raffe had also convinced Evangeline to set an example for Freddy. Since the boy needed to rebuild his upper body strength to prepare for physical therapy, she agreed to work out alongside him. Freddy pumped heavier weights while Evangeline used smaller dumbbells, both grimacing and sweating in rhythm under Raffe’s watchful eye.