Goodbye, Mia.
I FUCKING KNEW IT, and my mind has been spinning since I’d left Thurrock. I’d returned to Surrey two hours later because, at first, I’d headed straight for an airport, then realized after approaching the ticket counter, I had absolutely nothing on me. Both my passport and identification weren’t with me, but back here at the motel.
There was no time for a shower, but I smelled like I’d come from a strip joint. I was in and out within two minutes and changed into something more presentable, something Mia could recognize, grey joggers, a basic white shirt, and a black hoodie. With my mind elsewhere, my hands grabbed clothes from Mia’s suitcase, stuffing them into a backpack. Did she have clothes? What has she been wearing this entire time?
When I’d called Bruce a few hours ago, he had said she wasn’t there, that he hasn’t heard from her. But there was no other reason I could think of for Scott to fly into New York City, a little under three hours away from Mia’s dad’s house.
The last two weeks felt like a never-ending chase after her, but if it meant spending the rest of my life looking, I would do it.
The flight had been fifteen hours long, and I arrived in New York at three in the morning. After my first step out of the airport and into the city that never sleeps, a repulsive stench of pollution, stagnant water, and rude and tired faces greeted me. I waited patiently on the curb, holding my arm out in the air to call a taxi, and when the yellow car pulled up, a lady in a black business suit shouldered past me and slid into the backseat.
By five, I was on the road in a small silver hatchback rented at Alamo, en route to Bushkill, Pennsylvania. It had been the only place open at that hour, and I’d taken whatever was available.
By six-thirty, I parked in the driveway of the Jett residence.
The house was a two-story home with a partial front porch. Was this the same house Mia lived where all the evil moments of her past had happened? Had Bruce moved her into a new home to shield her from the memories as much as he could? The house backed into woods, secluded, with a steep driveway. For the last hour, I’d debated on finding a coffee shop. If Mia were inside, she’d appreciate her croissants. But I was too afraid to leave the premises.
And by eight, I was standing in front of the door, knocking. My heart beat out of my chest, and my adrenaline punched through impossible levels. Unable to stay in place, I paced the front porch, hoping someone would answer.
The door opened, and Bruce stared back at me from inside the house. He wasn’t like anything I’d expected, a balding head, years of guilt stacked in layers under his sunken eyes, wearing sweatpants and a Steelers football shirt with a coffee mug in hand. “You must be Oliver.”
I wet my frozen lips. “Is … please … tell me—”
“She’s here,” he confirmed with a nod.
My palm fell against the door frame, and I hung my head, pinching the bridge of my nose to fight back the emotions threatening to spill onto the Jett’s front porch. I’d found her. My vision glossed over, and I wiped my face into the sleeve of my hoodie before lifting my head to see the man I’d spoken to every day since release day. “Is she all right? Is she hurt?”
“Why don’t you come inside. I have an hour before work. Let’s talk.” Bruce lead me into the kitchen, but my eyes couldn’t help wandering around and up the stairs, looking for Mia. “Would you like a cup of coffee? You look like you just came back from a hundred-year expedition.” He chuckled.
“It sure feels that way,” he had no idea, “and yes, please. Black.” I took a seat in the breakfast nook where a bay window overlooked the garden bleeding into the forest. My knee bounced under the table, itching to run up the stairs to find her. But this was his home. “When did she arrive?”
“Yesterday morning after I’d left for work. Mia hasn’t spoken much. Barely left her room. I have no idea how she got here or where she came from, but she’s been locked up in the guest bedroom ever since. Diane, my wife, isn’t too happy with her being here,” he pointed out, setting a mug in front of me over a wicker placemat. “Especially since we have to pay more lawyer fees to reschedule the court date she missed.”
I pulled the mug from my mouth. “It wasn’t Mia’s fault. I’m sure she feels bad about it. And you don’t need to worry about the cost. I can take care of a lawyer.”
Bruce’s brows peaked as he dropped into a dining chair with his mug in hand. “You?”
I leaned back in the chair and pressed my hand into my knee. “Yeah. I love her, sir. I’m in love with her, and Mia loves me too.”
The deserted smile on his lips fed my anxiety. “Mia’s not capable of love.”
He’d said it as if I didn’t know her—as if he knew her better than me. “You’re wrong.” I cocked my head to the side, averting my gaze briefly to contain myself. The words were there, hanging on the tip of my tongue. I wanted to tell Bruce how Mia had always been capable of love. That I’d felt her wistful heart beat furiously at her absolute worst, proving passion stirred in the midst of nothingness. Mia Rose Jett had always been desperate to love. She only had to wake up first. “Mia’s been through hell and back, and not only has she survived, but she bloomed. Mia is nothing short of a wonder. If you took the time to get to know her, you’d see it too.”
Bruce leaned back and folded a leg over the other. “Are we talking about the same Mia?”
“Would you let me go upstairs so I could make sure?” I tried, and he laughed. I hid my smile behind the rim of the coffee mug before taking a sip. I was serious. My veins shook from being this close and not seeing her. Setting the coffee back down, the laughter settled between us, and I let out a helpless sigh. “Please, let me see her. Let me go wake her up.”
“Will she leave with you? What are your plans?” Bruce asked, straight and to the point.
His first question threw me off guard, almost as if he didn’t want Mia here. Almost as if Mia was a burden. Bruce didn’t say it, but he didn’t have to. A vacancy loomed in his eyes, and it was apparent when it came to Mia, Bruce had checked out a long time ago. “For two years, I’d done nothing but make plans, and I stopped making them two weeks ago when Mia went missing. I’m done making plans, sir. I used to believe if I did everything I could to map out our future, it would happen because it was planned—because I thought I’d prepared us for the unknown. But that’s not the case, and I see it now. The only plan I have right now is sitting right here in this chair until you give me the okay to run up those stairs to see her. I can’t see past that right now.”
“I like you,” Bruce admitted.
“People usually do.”
“When you get up the stairs, her room is on the left. Don’t wake my wife.”
I abandoned the chair and took off. My feet couldn’t move fast enough, and when I’d approached the door, I drew in a deep breath and turned the knob.
It was locked, and my forehead fell over the door as I knocked lightly. “Mia,” I pleaded. “It’s me.” The silence and barrier between us were terrifying. What condition would I find her in? What on earth could she have possibly faced over the last few weeks? What did Ethan do to her? Why did he let her go? Questions swam and my head spun. “Please, open the door.”