“It’s nothing,” Mia’s voice broke and pulled away from my grasp.
It wasn’t nothing. My touch knew every detail of her skin. Those had been scars. Fresh scars. Ones I’d never touched before. “Take off your shirt,” I demanded with a rattled tone as I silently prayed I had been wrong. Please, God, tell me I’m wrong.
Mia faced me with humiliation in her eyes, and I tried to control my emotions from spilling out. “Mia,” I urged, and for a moment, she hesitated, but then sat up and took off her shirt. The room was dark, and she turned her back toward me. I tilted her enough to hit the red blinking light coming from the corner of the room when I noticed scars covering her. “What the fuck happened?” She hung her head, and my stomach twisted into knots. “Mia? How the hell did this happen? Who did this to you?”
Mia’s lips trembled, and she lifted her head to the ceiling, trying to curb all weakness.
I picked her up and slid her into my lap, facing me. Her legs wrapped around me while her arms unwrapped from over her chest. I yanked my shirt off and pulled her against me, needing to be close without barriers. Mia released an exhale into my neck, and her fingers scratched at the back of my head. “I’m not okay,” she cried. “I’m not. I can’t do it anymore … ”
“Listen to me,” I pulled her head away to look at me, “I’m done listening to your stupid ideas about keeping us apart. We were not meant to be apart. Do you understand that?” Mia bit her trembling lip, and I grabbed her chin. “Anything that happens to you, happens to me. Every blow, every setback, every burn, every bloody beating. You are not alone in this. You hurt, I hurt. You’re in pain, I’m in pain. Whatever you go through, I feel it because you’re a part of me. We’re in this together.”
Mia’s fingers gripped my sides, and I moved the hair from her face. “I’m not a hundred percent. I’m getting there, but this time, if I slip, if I fuck up again, I need you to fight for me. Don’t ever let me go that easily again.” Tears gathered in her eyes as she looked away, and I grabbed her gaze with mine, forcing her to see me. “Promise me, Mia.”
She drew in a shaky breath, as her tangled hair fell from around her shoulder. “Promise.”
Gathering her hair in one hand, I pinned her against me. Chest to chest. Heart to heart. Beats and breaths in sync and perfectly matched. Together was all we needed, and I was confident we could survive in the arms of each other forever, never needing anything else; not food or water, only shelter in one another. Never even needing fucking sex. Just this—bodies fused, becoming one like they were meant to.
We stayed that way, blended and unsure of where her body started, and mine ended. She spent the rest of the night explaining to me the past nine months, and everything she’d gone through. In certain parts, I had to stop her to ease the ache in my chest. And in others, I couldn’t contain my excitement when she had explained that she had dual citizenship.
This new information changed my plan entirely.
“Do you know who your biological father is?” I asked.
She shook her head. “Not like it matters.”
“Do you want to know?”
“No.”
“Very well.” I flashed her a small smile. “Who am I supposed to ask for permission to marry you?”
“Me.”
I let out a chuckle and kissed her lovely lips. “I missed you every damn day, love. Even on days I wasn’t myself, a big, empty hole was inside me,” I crossed my hand over my heart, “You were missing.” Mia’s lips turned up in the corners, and she shook her head embarrassingly. “I missed that fucking smile, too.” Her lips parted as she breathed out a laugh. “Yeah, missed that bloody laugh as well.”
Our eyes locked, and her laughter dissolved. “I didn’t do this, Ollie. I didn’t. I wouldn’t.”
I held her face in my hands. “I know. I’m working on it. I’m going to get you out if I have to break you out of here myself, alright?”
She nodded and curled into my lap, laying her head into the curve of my neck. Her hard, pink nipples grazed along my chest as I inched my fingers down the sides of her arms and over her back. My knob relaxed in my joggers, not needing anything more than this fucking moment.
Mia fell asleep against me, not one stir of movement, and I hadn’t felt this complete, relieved, and refreshed in a long time. This time, I kept my eyes open and ran my palm over every surface of her back, over and over again, touching every wound, silently thanking my God for keeping these wounds at the surface and not piercing her soul. Keeping her light, that we worked so hard to find, stay intact and untouched by this fucking prankster that I was now determined to find.
A single knock at the door came too soon, and I dropped my head back against the wall.
With my love in my arms, I leaned to my left to swipe my shirt off the floor. “Mia,” I whispered, lifting her dead weight off my chest and pushing her head through the hole of my shirt.
“Stay with me,” she mumbled, pulling her arms through.
My white tee engulfed her, falling over her breasts. I wrapped an arm around her back and laid her across the mattress. “I never left,” I whispered into her ear and kissed her forehead. “Now close your eyes, love.”
I rose to my feet and watched her curl into a ball before drifting back to sleep—my angel. Doctors saw imperfections, a mental illness, but all I saw was strength: a powerful mind and the ability to protect the rest of herself from it when needed.
People who can’t fathom or understand one’s complexity, blame it on a sickness. The people who can’t put you in a specific box, shy away. And the people who can’t open their hearts to those who are different from them, undermine. But where they see flaws, I see blessings.
That beautiful mind of hers kept her strong—kept her a fighter.
After adjusting my waistband, I pulled my hoodie over my head, crouched down beside her, and kissed her one last time before heading out.
Scott waited outside the door, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. He dropped his chin to his chest and lifted off the wall before I followed behind him in silence.
Chapter Seventeen
“I suffer from the heart of a saint
with the hands of a sinner.”
—Oliver Masters
Ollie.
HALF THE DAY WENT by smooth. I kept my mouth closed, ears opened, determination rolling, and operation “get Mia out” in full focus. Once she returned without a dent in her record, I’d move on to phase two: find the bloody prankster, as Mia liked to call him. Prankster seemed juvenile for the shit he’d put her through.
Scott and I had come to an understanding. He’d have my back, but once the job was complete, I never wanted to see or hear about him and Mia together again.
I’d never been the jealous type, utterly confident in what Mia and I shared, but that still didn’t mean I liked seeing or hearing about it. I’d never keep Mia from someone she loved or grew close to. Finding someone who accepts and understands you entirely was rare, and forcing the ones you love, to sever those kinds of relationships, only hurt your own.
If I were honest with myself, she never belonged to me. She belonged to this world, and the only way to truly love her was to love her unselfishly. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have loved her at all.