Page 31 of Until We Come Home

“You’re not going to blow anything.”

“And what makes you so confident?”

“Because I know you,” I say. “I know how you are with people, how fucking good you are at your job. Hell, I know next to nothing about dance and you’ve explained it to me enough times on the phone that I feel like an expert on it. You’re a natural at getting people to understand things without making them feel stupid. You’re great. I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

She smiles at me and nudges me with her shoulder. “Thanks. I needed that today.”

“Anytime.”

Outside, the rain keeps coming. We work our way through the teriyaki, and I know I should go tell the guys about the food Mia brought, but I stay with her a minute longer, eating side by side with the rain for company.

She’s quiet for a moment, chewing, watching the rain come down past the bay doors. “One thing that’s cool about Meridian is that the teachers, the program, the whole culture there is so good. Versus the places where I came up, which had so much toxic shit about bodies and weight and who looked right. Meridian’s very body positive.”

She keeps her voice light, but I know the dark history behind those words. Over the years, she’s shared stories about the old-school instructors who took pleasure in breaking her down, the years spent struggling with food, and how hard she had to fight to build a healthier life after shifting over to commercial work.

"Is it strange being back in that world?" I ask. "Surrounded by all the intensity again?"

"Honestly, no. I thought it might be," she says, taking a second with it. "It's actually been the opposite. Being in that studio, teaching those kids... it feels weirdly healing, if I'm being real."

“I’m glad,” I say. “You deserve to have that part of it back. Especially after everything you went through with those teachers, and everything it took to get past it.”

“Yeah.” She gives me a small smile and goes back to her teriyaki for a second. “Thanks, by the way.”

“For what?” I ask.

She shrugs, pushing a piece of chicken around the box. “I was just having a moment today, standing in that studio, thinking about how far I’ve come with all of it. I used to feel so ashamed and hated talking about it with anyone. I think you were the first one I really opened up with. And today I just... I felt really thankful I had you these last few years while I was changing some of that. You helped me work through a lot of it, whether you know it or not.”

"I didn't do anything," I say softly. "That was all you."

"Maybe," she says. "But I'm still glad you were there."

"Me too," I say.

My mind goes back to that night sharing the bed in the cabin, the fucking feelings that have been kicking around in me since, or fuck it, maybe always. And it’s not worth the risk. Mia might think she needs me, but I know I need her a thousand times more.

I don’t even want to think about where I’d be without her these last few years. I can’t risk the friendship on something like this, especially since she’s given no indication she feels the same way.

It’ll pass. It has to.

She turns toward me, eyes searching mine as if she's about to add something more, when heavy footsteps and familiar banter echo down the hallway from the dayroom. Callum first, James right behind him, Rebecca with her coffee, all three of them walking out into the bay, and Mia blinks and looks away, and whatever it was goes with her.

"I thought I heard your voice, Mia," Callum calls out, a broad grin spreading across his face. "We were starting to think Mateo lied about you being back in town."

"Hey, guys," Mia laughs, stepping away from the bench and wiping her fingers on a paper napkin.

Callum reaches her first, sweeping her up into a fierce bear hug, before James swoops in. Rebecca lingers just behind them, a steaming mug of coffee cupped in one hand and a rare smile softening her features.

"About time you showed your face around here again," Rebecca says, pulling her into a warm, one-armed squeeze. "A whole year is far too long to stay away, especially when I'm left alone to keep these loud idiots in line."

She gestures with an affectionate roll of her eyes toward Callum and James, who have already zeroed in on the styrofoam clamshells and are all but wrestling over the largest container.

"You have my absolute deepest sympathies," Mia laughs. "I'm just doing my part to balance out the overwhelming masculine energy in this bay. Plus, I remembered you love the spicy chicken, so I made sure this one's yours."

Mia hands a warm plastic container over to Rebecca, who pops the lid and inhales the steam with a look of pure gratitude.

"Pure heaven," Rebecca sighs happily.

Mia throws a quick wink in my direction before sliding right back into the conversation. The whole room settles into an easy rhythm of catching up. Ollie nervously wanders out from the back, introducing himself while visibly blushing through his clear crush on Mia—not that I can blame the kid for being a little smitten. Even Eric and the rest of the crew drift down from upstairs to grab a plate, alongside Lainey from the front desk.