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There’s no way I can tell her about Landon. If I do, she’ll come here herself and rip off his dick, and then she might get in trouble with his influential family.
Besides, if she fixes my problems for me again, doesn’t that mean I will forever be weak?
“I’m so sorry, baby.” Her face, tone, and demeanor drip with love. “I wish I were there so I could give you a mama bear hug.”
“I’m fine.”Lie.“I’ll forget all about it in the morning.”More lies.
“It’s okay if you can’t forget about it, Mia.” She scoots closer. “Listen, I’ve been planning to broach this subject when you come back for a visit, but how about you give therapy another go?”
I link and interlink my fingers, then shake my head. “Therapy doesn’t work. I can’t speak.”
“Of course you can, baby. You just have to find the will to do it again.”
No, I can’t.
That part of me is trapped in an unremarkable capsule that’s hidden deep in the forest.
I’ve forgotten what my voice sounded like. But even if I do speak, puberty has already changed it. Sometimes, I think it’s probably like Maya’s, but deep inside me, a distant memory of it tells me there were some differences.
“We don’t want to push you,” Mom continues. “But have you considered that maybe you gave up on therapy way too soon?”
“We talked about this. Therapy was doing nothing for me and I hated it there. I hated dissecting myself in front of strangers and not getting any results.” My movements are jerkier, angrier, and more disturbed.
Like everything inside me tonight.
“Fine, I understand. I just want you to know that the option is always on the table.”
She’s about to say something else when a tall figure appears behind her and says in a soothing British accent, “What’s taking you so long, princess?”
My father’s face comes on the screen and I’m struck by how much I miss them both. I’m eighteen going on nineteen, but I still want to hug my parents for comfort.
Kyle Hunter is tall, dark, and classically handsome. Where Maya and I take after Mom and Aunt Reina, Nikolai resembles him. But while Dad appears sophisticated and elegant but is secretly a menace, Nikolai is openly a menace. He’s rougher around the edges and definitely doesn’t have Dad’s discreet modus operandi.
A wide grin illuminates his features when he sees me and speaks in a subtle British accent. “Mia, is that you?”
I wave.
“What a fantastic surprise. Wait. Isn’t it late over there?”
“Yeah, but I just miss you guys,” I sign.
“Which is why you should’ve stayed here instead of flying to the other side of the ocean,” he says for the thousandth time since we got here. “Now I can’t hug my baby girl whenever I want to.”
“I’ll have Niko hug me on your behalf,” I sign.
“Doesn’t count.”
“Leave her alone.” Mom swats him teasingly. “She’s old enough to decide where she wants to be.”
“Which should be beside me. Just saying.” Dad leans forward. “Is there anyone bothering my little Mia? Should I go there and perhaps erase them from the records?”
“Kyle!” Mom protests.
“What? That’s the least I can do to whoever is causing the perturbed look in my little girl’s eyes.”
He knows, too.
Of course he does.
