She gives me a weak, guilty smile.
“I’m here to get my things,” I tell her.
A relieved breath escapes her lips, and the tension drawing up her shoulders flows away. I know she was anticipating a fight or argument, but there’s nothing here, including Jason, worth fighting for.
“Your things are in here.”
I follow Cynthia to the guest bedroom, grateful that my belongings are packed neatly away in plastic containers rather than trash bags. It’s clear she packed them because Jason wouldn’t have bothered to fold my clothes neatly or wrap my breakable items in bubble wrap.
“Thank you for taking such great care with my things,” I tell her.
“I feel like I owe you an explanation.”
“Did you know we were together when you started dating?”
Her head shakes back and forth.
“I didn’t know until they—until you were—I didn’t know until he had to fly to Miami.” She swallows, and when tears form in the corner of her eyes, I know she’s about to deliver a blow. “He told me you were dead. He asked me for help with packing your things because it was too hard for him to do it alone.”
“You deserve better,” I tell her without emotion.
“I just—” I hold my hand up to keep the excuses from slipping past her lips.
“You don’t owe me anything, but I’d be grateful if you could help me get some of these things down to my dad’s car.” I hold up my cast in explanation.
“Of course.”
“Just the clothing for now. I’ll get my dad to swing by some other time for the rest.”
I’m able to help by grabbing the handle of my rolling suitcase. I don’t have a clue what’s in it, but since I don’t want to be helpless, I drag it behind me while she carries one of the plastic totes.
Thankfully, neither one of my parents say a word as the stranger helps me load my things in the trunk.
Cynthia is heading back inside to grab one more container since there’s room in the trunk when Jason whips into the parking lot. His truck rocks back and forth because he slammed it in park before he even stopped moving.
“Mia!” He runs to me, wrapping his arms around me in an embrace that doesn’t even hold an ounce of the comfort I feel when Ryan does the same. “Oh, God, baby. I’m so glad you’re home.”
“I’m not home, Jason.” I wiggle out of his arms, pressing my palm to his chest to get the distance I need. “You’re home.”
“But—”
I angle my head in Cynthia’s direction as she watches her boyfriend or whatever he is to her look at me like I’m the long-lost love of his life.
“She’s home.”
His face pales when he realizes that I’ve already been inside and met her.
“This isn’t my home.” As I say the words, I realize that I’m referring to Louisiana as a whole.
“We can work through this,” he insists, pushing his chest against my hand to get closer to me. “I’ll never love another woman the way I love you.”
I don’t have a damn clue why he’s fighting for what we had when it was dead long before he ever gave his current girlfriend some sob story about me dying. He gave up on me long before my hope for him faded with the setting sun after weeks in Miami.
“It’s over, Jason.”
“Mia,” he sighs, his head hanging low between his shoulders, and I can’t help but sense relief coming from him as well.
Maybe he feels like he has to act a certain way because of everything that has happened, but he’s off the hook for all of it because I just can’t find the energy to care.
He watches as I close the trunk and nods his head in understanding when I let him know that my dad will be by soon to get the rest of my things.
He doesn’t say another word or beg me to stay when I climb inside the car. He merely nods like he’s grateful everything went as smoothly with me as it did. When I look up at Cynthia as my dad pulls away, I can tell by the look on her face that things won’t be as simple with her. That makes a genuine smile spread across my face.
Chapter 25
Scooter
Agitation with myself kept me away until well after the sun set.
But my draw to her brought me back, just like I know it always will.
She’s in my blood, so deep in my soul that staying away from her isn’t an option.
I don’t think I’ll ever regain blood flow in my hands from being out so long in the dead of winter, but I hope a quick shower and lying with her in the bed will thaw me out.
The clubhouse is a little rowdy when I step inside. The guys are always looking for a good time, especially after being gone for a couple of days. Music plays through the speakers as a few women from town dance near the sofas.
I don’t see Mia, but it seems the booze is flowing, and I know she’d never be out here with all of that going on.
I head straight for my room. I’ve already been away from her long enough, and I have a ton of explaining to do. I have a million questions that need answering, and a slew of confessions I need to make to her.
“She’s gone,” Max says as I pass by Kingston’s room on the way to my own.
I stop in my tracks and back up. Jasmine is sitting on the bed as Kingston packs his things into cardboard boxes. Max is stationed in the recliner by the window.
“What was that?” I ask, certain he didn’t just say what I thought he did.
“Mia is gone.”
“Gone shopping? Gone to the doctor?”
“Gone home. Back to Louisiana.”
I want to chuckle and call him an asshole for trying to get me riled up, but it’s clear by the look on his face that he isn’t joking.
“What happened?” She was sleeping soundly when I left this morning.
“I was going to ask you the same thing.” His voice is just short of a growl, and it’s filled with accusation. “She wouldn’t talk to me today. She just insisted I get her back home today.”
“You put her on a plane alone?” I hiss. “Are you fucking crazy?”
My heart rate doubles, and it’s taking all my power not to cross the room and knock his fucking head off.
Kingston steps out of the bedroom and challenges me with a single look. Without words, he’s telling me that if I move on his man, he’ll move on me.
I don’t back down because of fear. I can hold my own against Kingston “Tug” Jacks, but I don’t engage because I know Mia enough to know that my silence last night drove her away. Her head is filling with all sorts of misplaced thoughts about me not wanting her, me not needing her, me not caring for her. She thinks she’s a burden like she’s felt in the past.
“She made it home safely,” Max offers, and I’m thankful he’s given me this nugget of information when it’s clear he isn’t going to spare me much else. “She’s with my parents.”
Does that mean she didn’t go home to him?
Not necessarily, and that thought hits me in the chest like a wrecking ball.
“You moving out, man?” I turn my attention to Tug since I don’t know what to do with the information given to me.
I’m on lockdown orders while suspended, unable to leave town. It’s not time to go and do what I want. If I head to Louisiana to get her back, I’ll lose my job with Cerberus. It’s a breach of contract and automatic dismissal. My suspension isn’t a vacation. It’s meant to be a time of reflection and introspection, an adult version of a timeout so to speak.