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Turner and Roark are completely content to chat between themselves and snuggle with me. Before we were on the road all of the time, we used to do this a lot. It’s nice to just sit and create.
A clearing of a throat breaks my concentration and I glance up.
Miranda looks nervous, standing just inside of the room. Yawning, I’m aware of how long I’ve been in this position.
“Roark, honey, your legs have to be asleep,” I smile, moving to stand.
“Don’t get up on my account,” he says, wrapping his arms around me to kiss my neck. There’s a little bit of stubble that makes me shiver. Fuck. “I will gladly suffer pins and needles in my legs for you, baby.”
I turn my face to kiss his lips. “I love you,” I tell him, sighing happily.
“Love you most. I’m going to start dinner with Turner so that you can talk to Miranda. We need to get more than soda bread into your body,” Roark smirks.
“It’s so yummy though,” I tease him. My stomach decides to contradict my words by gurgling.
“Lenny, there’s snacks on the table, please eat before you turn into a gremlin.”
“But I’m not wet yet,” I complain, and Miranda snorts. “Fuck, I didn’t mean it like that.”
My cheeks heat as I stand to let Roark stand. He and Turner snicker like children as they start to leave.
“We can change that at any damn time, baby. So we better leave anyway,” Turner throws over his shoulder.
Shaking my head as my lips twitch, I look at Miranda expectantly. She did, after all, come to me.
“I’m leaving tomorrow, and wanted to talk to you before I do,” she says, her fingers twisting nervously.
“Miranda,” I tell her, trying to pull patience. “I don't bite, why don’t you come chat with me.”
Blowing out a breath, she comes to sit on the other end of the couch.
“I just want to apologize to you,” she rushes out. “At first, I was careful because of the misuse of power medical professionals wielded towards you. I wanted to wait till you were comfortable with me, and I wanted to help you. But…”
I knew there was something odd with her, and I’m glad she’s telling me. I really thought I was doing something wrong. I focus on her words, because the last thing I need is to get lost in my head.
“You’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever met,” Miranda continues. “You healed, went through a really shitty recovery period, and now you’re racing into danger. I just don’t understand it. It made me react badly, because I’m worried, but that’s not my job to worry.”
I tilt my head, because there’s got to be more to this.
“You were skittish around me for a while, and I just thought you didn’t know how to be around me. I wasn’t doing very well, and I know I’m a lot—”
“No! You’re really not. You reminded me of how a strong person looks at trauma in the eye and tells it to go fuck itself. I’m just not that strong,” she shrugs. “My parents were awful, but when I was sixteen, my father sold me to a man who he owed a debt to. That man chipped me like a dog, though, it wasn’t as sophisticated as the one Greg has.”
It’s as if there’s not enough air in the room and my eyesight blurs. Forcing a breath into my lungs, I force myself to stay relaxed. I was not expecting her to say that. Sixteen… fuck.
“Trackers are a trigger for me, but I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did. It’s a smart idea, because they’ll always be able to find you. Your guys are some of the most protective people I’ve ever met. Orion even appears to be attached,” Miranda chuckles. “I’m learning a lot about courage, and I asked Greg to find me a therapist to work with. It’s obvious my past is still haunting me.”
I nod, trying to process everything. As bad as my childhood was, Carrie didn’t pull shit like this. It explains a lot about how Miranda acted around me. She’s a really good person, working with a ton of emotional baggage.
“Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me this,” I whisper, completely reeling.
She nods, standing quickly.
“I wish you the best of everything,” Miranda says with a small smile. “Burn it all down, stay safe, and love hard.”
She hurries out of the room before I can say anything. Standing, I trail behind slowly to find the guys in the kitchen.
“What did she have to say?” Turner asks, brow arched as he looks down at me.
