46. Mira
46
MIRA
I run my finger along the bottom edge of the passenger window. I wonder how much force it would take to shatter it.
More strength than I have, I think. Especially with how many weeks it’s been since I’ve so much as looked at my kickboxing gloves, let alone put them on.
“Nice day out,” Evan says next to me, scrambling for anything to talk about other than the obvious. “Sunny.”
“Is this glass bulletproof?” I ask.
He sighs. “So much for my attempt at distraction.”
I arch a brow. “Talking about the weather was your go-to distraction technique?”
“My job title is ‘bodyguard.’ Idle chit-chat isn’t in the job description.”
“So, let’s skip the chit-chat then. Tell me—” I rap my knuckles on the window. “—are these bulletproof?”
He hesitates for a beat too long before he relents. “Yes, but you’re supposed to be thinking about something else. ‘Healthy diversions,’ right? That’s what the therapist said.”
“The therapist is a hack. What kind of professional tells someone who is being hunted for sport to destress with ‘long walks?’” I snort. “I’ll be sure to savor my trips from the bedroom to the kitchen, since I can’t leave the freaking house!”
It’s not like I even want to. As soon as the bouquet from my brother arrived, our sanctuary in Paradise Valley went on lockdown like Fort Knox.
Sitting in this bulletproof Popemobile is the closest I’ve come to fresh air in a week. Even my therapist’s office has an underground parking garage so I can go straight from the lot to an elevator that takes me to her floor. I’m growing pale like a mole person.
“Your case is… unique. Helping you would be a steep learning curve for any therapist.”
I know he’s right. In all honesty, I liked Dr. Navarro. She’s smart and empathetic. She listened to my story of patricide and woe without any outward judgment. Plus, the breathing exercises she recommended helped me navigate my way out of a panic attack this morning when I woke up and Zane wasn’t in bed next to me.
“Yeah, well,” I grumble, “if I launch myself through the car door when Aiden’s teacher opens it, don’t mind me. It’s just the imprisoned person’s response to finally experiencing fresh air.”
We’re a few minutes later than normal to get Aiden since we came from the therapist’s office, but there’s still a healthy line of cars in the pickup lane.
Zane and Evan both thought I could tag along for this errand without anything too traumatic happening. Though, last time I came to pickup, one of the “Bouncy Hair Moms,” as Jemma likes to call them, invited me to a “Wine & Whine Night” at her house. Apparently, the idea is to get drunk and complain about our children and spouses. I politely declined, because my frontal lobe is still intact.
Now, I’m desperate enough for social interaction that I might take her up on it.
But as we pull through the roundabout, I forget all about the Bouncy Hair Moms. Aiden is nowhere in sight. I see Jalen standing with a few other boys in a group by the doors, but Aiden’s blonde head isn’t there.
“Where is he?”
Evan doesn’t answer. His brows are pinched as he flashes our family’s badge through the window to the teacher on duty. She holds up a finger before she disappears into the building.
“Is this normal?” I ask. Evan’s jaw flexes in a way that tells me it’s not. “He must be waiting inside.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
Then I see Aiden through the glass, smiling and chatting to the teacher, and the tension in my chest evaporates. I blow out a ragged breath that would disappoint Dr. Navarro, but I don’t care.
Aiden is okay. That’s all that matters.
The teacher opens the car door and helps Aiden into the backseat. “Sorry about that. It’s school protocol to keep a student inside after an unsuccessful pickup attempt.”
I smile and start to wave her off, ready to forgive anything, since I’m beyond relieved and this is the first conversation that I’m not paying for in a week.
Then I hear her.
Actually hear her.
“‘Unsuccessful pickup attempt’? What does that mean?”
“His uncle.” She smiles, her head tipping to the side like a dog hearing a high-pitched noise. “He said he’d call you and clear it all up. He wasn’t on the list.”
I inhale, count to four.
Exhale, count to seven.
But I think I’m counting too fast. And I’m not actually sure I’m breathing.
“Aiden doesn’t have an uncle,” I rasp.
“But he had your same beautiful dark hair. He must be related to you.” The woman smiles, but there’s an edge of confusion now. “Uncle Dante…?”
The principal’s office is dark. She pulled the blinds once we were inside so no one from the pickup line could look in and see us. The last thing I need is the moms chatting about our drama at their next Whine Night.
Aiden is playing on a school tablet in the corner while Evan talks with the security team, reviewing footage.
Everyone else has a job. But I’m just numb.
Until I hear Zane’s voice in the hallway.
“Where is my family?” His voice is a deep rumble. I expect the ground to open up and swallow us all.
“Mr. Whitaker.” The receptionist sounds terrified. I don’t blame her. “Your wife is?—”
“Here.” I don’t remember standing up and moving across the room, but I’m in the doorway now. My legs shake, and I have to lean against the frame to stay standing.
Zane is almost glowing. I swear there’s a dark aura around him. Some avenging angel here to save the day.
But his fury softens when he sees me. “Mira.”
He crosses the room and folds me in his arms. I have no idea how many people are watching us, but I’m too far gone to care.
“I’m sorry,” I gasp against his chest. “I’m so—This is my fault. I’m sorry.”
It hits me all at once. How close Dante got. How any number of tiny things could have gone differently so my brother could have left with Aiden. With my son.
My stomach twists and my chest aches. It feels like I’m being wrung through a pasta maker.
Zane’s chest hitches to say something, but Aiden’s giggle interrupts him.
He still hasn’t seen his dad yet. Aiden is sitting in the corner of the office with headphones on. He has no clue how much danger he was in. He has no idea that he has become the center of my world—and how, because of that, he’s never been in more danger.
I hope he never has to find out.
Zane takes my hand and leads me back into the receptionist’s office. He tosses a half-formed question her way and she points us to a dark room on the other side of the office. “Counseling Space” is on a plaque next to the door.
Zane doesn’t bother turning on the light as he closes the door behind us and pulls me against his chest. His hand cradles the back of my head. His lips are soft against my ear.
“None of this is your fault, Mira. None of it.”
I want to believe him so badly, but I shake my head. “Dante wants to hurt me. He went after Aiden because I love him. He did this because I’ve been hiding from him.”
Zane pulls back, his strong hands bracketing my cheeks. His eyes are as bright as the sky outside. I want to lie down and get lost in them.
“Dante did this because he’s fucked in the head,” Zane spits in disgust. “Nothing he has done or will do is any reflection on you, Mira. Do you hear me?” I try to look down at the greige carpet, but Zane grips my chin and forces me to look at him. “Do you hear me?”
“I hear you.” My voice wavers. His face blurs as tears fill my eyes. “… but I don’t believe you.”
His jaw ticks, and I don’t realize we’re moving until my back is against the wall. He pins me in place and looks at me like he’s afraid I’ll disappear.
“I love you,” he growls. “Do you believe that?”
There’s not a single doubt in my mind. “Yes.”
“I will do anything—fucking anything —to keep you safe. Do you believe that?”
Again: “Yes.”
“I would never put Aiden at risk. Do you believe that?”
“Of course I do.” I hold his hand. “We’d both do anything to protect him.”
Including leave. Those words hang unspoken. If Zane registers they’re there, he blows right on past them, smoothing my hair away from my face.
“Then believe me when I tell you I don’t blame you for a thing, Mira. Believe me when I tell you that none of this is your fault, and believe me when I say I’m not going to stop until you’re finally free from your past.”
I fist my hand in his shirt. Dr. Navarro should hear about the effect being close to Zane has on me. Forget mindful breathing. Just touching him—feeling his heartbeat under my palm—settles something wild inside of me.
“I don’t want you to sacrifice anything for me, Zane. Especially n-not—” I hiccup and swallow down a cry. “Especially not your son.”
He kisses my cheeks to take my tears away. “Nothing is going to happen to Aiden. I’m going to keep him safe, just like I’m going to keep you safe.” He grabs my hand, turning it over to run his thumb along the diamond on my finger. “You belong to me now, Mira. You have my ring and my last name and my protection. I will never let anyone hurt you.” He kisses my knuckle and looks up at me. “Do you believe that? Do you believe in me?”
I nod. It’s easy this time. “More than I’ve ever believed in anything.”