“There’s a key over the frame on top,” Bruce stated from below.
I reached my hand up over the ledge until my fingertips touched the cold metal.
It was gold, and I pushed it through the hole and turned the knob.
The door opened.
But the room was empty.
Desperately, I checked the closet and the bathroom. The bed had been slept in, unhinged sheets bunched at the foot of the mattress. My eyes darted around the bedroom until they settled on an open window where a breeze came through, blowing the thin curtain carelessly. I stepped forward and swiped the curtain out of the way to find a ledge someone could easily jump from. A ledge she had jumped from.
Mia was gone.
I’d driven up and down mountains, gotten lost in the valley, and lost cell reception along with it. With no idea as to where Mia would run off to, I continued to drive around, afraid I’d end up off a cliff. Every driver I’d passed whipped by me, rudely honking their horn.
By three in the afternoon, I’d finally gotten service and tapped the nearest petrol station into the GPS. She had to be around here, she was inside my chest, inside my bones. My soul hummed, recognizing hers close by. A few more hours of searching passed by and on my way back to their house to see if she’d returned to her dad’s, twisted brown hair, a tiny frame, and a black hoodie caught my eye and stole my breath. It was Mia, and she was sitting on a bench off in the distance, overlooking the view.
I pulled the hatchback into the dip in the road and turned off the engine. Mia’s back was to me, but I knew it was her. The pounding of my heart was all too familiar, and my nerves drifted, turning into relief as she sat there in numerous layers of clothes, engine-red rain boots covering her feet. She didn’t bother turning around when she heard the car come up behind her. Or did she hear?
Exiting the car, I thought about what I’d say or do. And with each step closer, I had to refrain myself from pulling her into my arms. I took a seat beside her on the corner of the bench and released a shaky breath, my gaze never drifting from her. Under wet lashes, her lips were chapped, and she shook inside her clothes. But even when she was crying, she was beautiful. I couldn’t take my eyes off her as she kept hers on the mountain view.
We sat there for a while, neither one of us saying anything. Mia’s silence called upon a panic teetering inside me, pushing it over the edge. I’d never been so nervous. The wind from up here blew violently, but Mia never faltered. The thoughts inside her head were so loud it clenched my entire being in a tight grip. She was confused, and I wished I knew the reasons why.
“Why didn’t you look for me?” she finally asked.
Her words shocked me and broke open my chest, and I had to turn my head away to blink away the water gathering in my eyes. When I turned back to face her, I reached out for her hand in her lap, but she pulled away. “Mia, look at me.”
Her eyes slammed closed, and she shook her head.
In seconds, I crouched down in front of her, refusing to allow her to accept the bloody lie. “I’ve been looking for you my entire life, Mia. I’ve never fucking stopped. I look for you in every room I’m in, in every face I see, and for the last few weeks, I’ve done nothing but do everything I possibly could to find you, because I was made to find you.” Mia’s eye’s clenched together harder, tears escaping. “I’ll never stop, Mia.”
Mia’s eyes opened. She looked at me, and I froze.
Despite the last few weeks, the single look in her eyes proved she was the same strong Mia I fell for all over again with every passing day. She stayed with me, and I blew out a long unsteady breath.
“You lied to me. For two years, you lied to me,” she said, and her hand touched my cheek. Perhaps she wanted to make sure I was real. “You’re a poet now—”
“I’ve always been a poet, love.”
“You never told me you published your work. You never once told me the hoodie I wore almost every day was in your name. You kept so much from me.”
Though she was speaking, I was too hypnotized by her touch. My face sank into her palm before she raked her fingers through my hair. I leaned in closer, needing more. “Everything I did was for you and Zeke. That’s the truth. I was afraid to tell you because I was afraid to fail you. I didn’t want you to be disappointed in me. When I found the first book was a success, I wanted to surprise you, but never got the chance.”
“Why didn’t you file a police report?”
“God, Mia. I tried. Lord knows, I tried. The police never gave me the time of day. I’ve talked to every goddamn officer and resident in all of Guildford and Surrey, visited Oscar in prison, showed up at Lynch’s, bothering his arse every fucking day. I called Bruce. Every. Bloody. Day.”
“You have an answer for everything.”
“Because I’ve done everything.”
And we went back and forth like that for over an hour, me on my knees before her with her hands on me. She’d told me what happened with Scott, how he was responsible for the suicides, and she had walked in on him, how Scott took her and held her captive in a cabin. How Mia set the cabin on fire, and Scott saved her. How it was her decision to get on the plane. How Mia didn’t want to leave him, but Scott dropped her off. I told her I wanted to kill him, and she said no. I told her I loved her, and that would never change.
Communication had always been easy for us because we laid everything on the table and rarely held back from one another, but I did hold back. I should’ve told her that I’d gotten involved with the Links. I’d made a deal with the devil to find her, but telling her would only put more on her plate. Instead, I reminded her I’d wait however long she needed. That I’d stay with her for however long it took.
Temperatures dropped, and she still hadn’t moved from the chair, not letting me touch her—not letting me hold her. It hurt, but Scott had done damage. It pained me to see her like this, so distant and on edge. Though her eyes remained on me, making sure I didn’t disappear. I wanted to ask if he’d touched her in places my hands have been and if she’d touched him the way she touched me but now wasn’t the time. It wouldn’t have made a difference, anyway.
“I’m so mad,” she whispered, her hands still in my hair as if they’d keep me real as mine held onto the bench on both sides of her.
Her anger tore my soul to pieces and made me feel whole—a masochist. My legs were numb from crouching for so long, but I couldn’t see straight from being in her space, too afraid to move—afraid of her hands pulling away from me. “Mia …” Stay with me, love.
She shook her head as her hands dropped from me and shook at her sides. “I never needed anyone. I didn’t need anyone else to make me feel safe, to make me happy. I was fine and able to take care of myself … Because I didn’t fucking care. Now I care, and suddenly, it’s as if I’m relying on everyone else. On Ethan, on you. I hate not being able to defend myself. I hate how every time you’re away from me, the pain eats me from the inside out like I’m dying a slow and excruciating death. I hate it,” her voice increased, and I was scared of where she was heading and what her confession was doing to her, “I don’t want my entire world to depend on anyone else but me. I want to start making choices. I want to make something of myself, to fight my own battles, to earn my own victories. I don’t want to be weak anymore,” air escaped her lips, a puff of white chill, “I don’t know anymore. I can’t think at all. I’m so mad, I want to punch someone. I want to hurt someone. I’m so angry, and I want to scream. Yeah …” she looked at me, gasping for a breath through furious sobs, “I want to fucking scream.”