Chapter 1 #2
I reached for the sparkly sneakers before she could change her mind again and started tugging them onto her feet while mentally rerouting the rest of the morning.
Call Dana. Move the eight o'clock to telehealth.
Drop Mia. Skip lunch. Rewrite the afternoon notes tonight after bedtime.
The calculations came automatically now. Every problem solved by sacrificing something further down the line.
My phone buzzed with a calendar reminder.
Case consultation. 12:30.
Right. That too.
I tied Mia's laces too fast, fingers slipping.
"Mama." She touched my cheek suddenly with one small hand. "Your squirrels are winning."
The words cracked through the pressure just enough that I laughed once under my breath.
"They really are."
Mia nodded seriously like we were discussing a medical diagnosis. Then she leaned forward and whispered, "You should maybe drink your coffee before it dies again."
A startled sound escaped me.
God.
She sounded like me.
I stood quickly, grabbing my mug while scanning the apartment one more time.
Laptop. Keys. Work badge. Mia's lunch. Water bottle.
The checklist steadied me for exactly three seconds. Then I looked at the clock.
7:27.
Traffic downtown would already be building.
Outside, another ambulance screamed past close enough to rattle the windows.
Mia flinched.
So did I.
And suddenly the apartment felt too small for all the noise and pressure trapped inside it.
I got Mia into her jacket at 7:31.
A personal miracle.
Unfortunately, the universe corrected itself immediately after. My coffee slipped out of my hand while I reached for the leash. The mug hit the counter edge first. Then the floor.
Coffee exploded across the tile.
"Mama!" Mia jumped backward as Bruno barked hysterically at the sudden crash.
"Don't move." The command came out instantly while I grabbed paper towels off the counter. "There's glass."
The smell hit next: burnt coffee soaking into grout. Sharp. Bitter.
My pulse climbed another level.
Of course this would happen.
I crouched quickly, gathering larger shards into one shaking hand while Mia hovered near the door in oversized sparkly sneakers and visible concern.
"You're bleeding."
I looked down.
A thin red line cut across the side of my thumb.
Nothing serious. Still annoying.
"I'm fine."
The paper towels smeared brown liquid instead of absorbing it properly while Bruno kept barking. Somewhere outside, another siren screamed past the building, every sound seeming to bounce directly into my skull.
"Mama?"
I closed my eyes briefly.
Not now. Please not now.
"What?"
Too sharp again.
Mia shrank back immediately.
The guilt hit so fast it almost made me nauseous.
I dropped the ruined paper towels into the trash harder than necessary and forced myself to inhale once before looking at her.
"Sorry," I said quietly. "I'm not mad at you."
Her fingers twisted nervously around the straps of her backpack.
"You look mad."
Because I was.
At the clock. At the coffee. At Gloria's sick kid and the traffic and the fact that one small disruption could knock over the entire day like dominoes.
But none of that belonged to Mia.
I pressed my hand against the counter edge until the cool granite steadied me a little.
7:34.
If we left right now, immediately, without another problem, we still might barely make it.
Might.
I swept the last ceramic shard into a paper bag, then I grabbed my work bag, keys, and phone all at once. The phone immediately slipped out of my hand and skidded beneath the kitchen table.
I laughed.
Not because anything was funny. Because the alternative felt dangerously close to crying.
"Mama?" Mia's voice went tiny.
I crouched to retrieve the phone, breathing too fast now.
Assess. Contain. Fix.
The words usually worked. Today they just sounded like instructions shouted into a hurricane.
Another ambulance tore down the street outside, close enough that red light flashed briefly across the apartment walls.
Mia flinched again.
Then she walked toward me slowly and held out my dead coffee mug handle like an offering.
"It broke," she whispered.
Something in my chest cracked a little at the expression on her face, like she thought the mug mattered more than she did.
I took the handle gently from her fingers.
"Hey." I touched her coat sleeve softly. "None of this is your fault."
She searched my face carefully before nodding once. But the tension stayed in her shoulders.
And standing there in the middle of spilled coffee and broken ceramic with sirens echoing through the windows, I could feel the morning slipping further out of my control by the second.
The hallway door slammed somewhere down the corridor just as I finally got Bruno's food and water filled for the day.
Bruno lifted his head from the mat, ears pricking like he'd been waiting for instructions, then decided the drama wasn't worth it and flopped back down with a put-upon huff.
Good.
One problem contained.
I shoved my phone into my coat pocket, grabbed Mia's hand, and yanked the apartment door open hard enough to bounce it briefly off the stopper.
"We're leaving. Right now."
Mia trotted beside me, trying to keep up while I locked the apartment one-handed.
"Are your squirrels still fighting?"
"Violently."
That earned a tiny smile.
Good enough.
I turned toward the elevator and immediately collided with a solid wall of male chest.
Strong hands caught my upper arms automatically before I could stumble backward.
"Whoa."
The voice hit first.
Low. Warm. Familiar in a way my body recognized before my brain caught up.
For one impossible second, I was twenty-four again, standing outside a bar in a summer thunderstorm while Sebastian Hayes laughed like trouble and looked at me like I was the only person on the sidewalk.
Then the present slammed back into place.
Mia. Backpack. Bleeding thumb. Dead coffee. Seven-thirty-something and my life on fire.
I looked up too fast.
Dark hair. Rain-damp gray T-shirt. A duffel bag dropped beside the door across from mine. Those same deep brown eyes, older now, steadier now, and widening with the same shock punching through my ribs.
"Sebastian?"
His grip loosened, but he didn't let go until he knew I had my balance.
"Lucia."
My name sounded different in his mouth now. Lower. Rougher at the edges. Like eight years had passed and somehow not passed at all.
We stared at each other like the hallway had opened a trapdoor beneath both of us.
He was not supposed to exist here.
He was supposed to stay in the part of my life before Tomas, before Mia, before custody calendars and daycare cutoffs and knowing exactly how much silence could cost. Back when he had been all steady hands, reckless warmth, and almosts I had spent years pretending didn't still have teeth.
Mia tugged on my hand. "Mama?"
Right.
Child. Crisis. Shoes with emotional grievances.
I stepped back so quickly my shoulder hit the wall.
"What are you doing here?" I asked.
Sebastian glanced toward the apartment across the hall, where two moving boxes sat stacked beside the open door. One was labeled FIELD GEAR in black marker. Another held a coffee maker tilted sideways like it had survived combat and resented everyone involved.
"I'm... in 4B. Next to you."
"No."
His brows lifted.
I realized too late that was not an answer normal adults gave to factual information.
"I mean..." I swallowed. "Since when?"
"Last night." He looked as thrown as I felt, which helped and did not help at all. "I'm in Miami temporarily for work. Disaster response consulting. Storm preparedness, emergency protocols, a few municipal trainings. The contract came with short-term housing."