CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
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Mia
The phone rang on a Tuesday just after nine. Dana’s name again.
Mia answered on the second ring.
“Hey, Dan.”
A relieved exhale on the other end, followed by Dana’s familiar gravelly laugh. “Fuck me, you’re still picking up. I was half-expecting voicemail jail by now.”
Mia smiled faintly, cradling the phone against her shoulder as she stirred honey into her tea. “I figured twice in a couple of months is probably safe. Any more and you’d start charging me for emotional support.”
“Damn right,” Dana shot back. “I’d send you an invoice for every ‘you okay?’ text I’ve sent. You’d owe me a new car by now.”
Mia laughed—small, but real. “How are you? Still terrorising the physio bay?”
“Same shit, different day,” Dana said, voice dropping into its usual blunt warmth.
“Still patching up drivers who think they’re invincible.
One of the new guys—cocky little shit—thought he might do me a favour and took me out last week.
Proper date, dinner, the works. I think he was expecting a sure thing, like one drink and he’d get his leg over.
Poor bastard didn’t realise I’m basically a nun these days.
Told him straight: ‘Mate, I’ve seen better moves in a simulator.
Hard pass.’ He looked like I’d kicked his puppy. ”
Mia snorted into her tea. “You’re brutal.”
“Someone’s gotta be,” Dana said, unapologetic. “I’m not wasting my limited free time on mediocre dick. I’ve got standards and a vibrator that doesn’t talk back. Anyway—enough about my tragic love life. How are you? Really?”
Mia leaned against the windowsill, watching her mother hang washing on the line outside. “Better. Not great, but… better. I told Mum and Dad everything. All of it. Oxford. The assault. The lies. Vegas. Lucas.”
Dana was quiet for a beat—rare for her. When she spoke, her voice was softer, rough edges sanded down. “Jesus, Mia. That’s… fuck. That’s a lot. And they took it okay?”
“They cried. I cried. They didn’t look at me differently. They just… held me.”
“Fuck,” Dana repeated, quieter. “That’s huge. That’s massive. I’m so fucking proud of you.”
Mia swallowed hard. “It feels like I’ve been carrying it alone for so long. Saying it out loud… it didn’t fix anything, but it made the weight lighter. Like I can finally breathe.”
“I can hear it in your voice,” Dana said. “You sound… steadier. Not fixed, but steadier.”
Then Mia took a breath. “I’ve been talking to Ascari,” she said.
A sharp inhale from Dana. “And?”
“They’re serious. Video calls with the team principal, the HR director, even a quick chat with Eddie Hale himself.
He’s… intense. But kind. Asked about my philosophy on comms—how I balance driver voice with team messaging.
Said he’s tired of noise and wants someone who can keep things clean, steady.
Someone who understands pressure without cracking under it. ”
Dana let out a soft whistle. “Good old Eddie. Legend.”
“I’m scared,” she admitted. “What if I fuck it up? What if the headlines follow me?”
“Then we fight them,” Dana said simply. “You’re Mia fucking Brookes. Sharp, kind, tougher than most of the drivers out there. If anyone can handle Eddie and a headline or two, it’s you. And if it gets messy? You’ve got me. You’ve got your parents. You’ve got people who know the real story.”
“I’m going to accept,” she said. “I told them yesterday. Official offer came through this morning. Comms lead. Full control of the department. Reporting directly to the principal. It’s… it’s the kind of role I used to dream about. Before everything got complicated.”
Dana let out a bright, relieved laugh. “Mia. That’s massive. They’re lucky to have you. We all are.”
Mia smiled—small, real. “Thanks, Dan. For checking in. For not giving up.”
“Never,” Dana said simply. Then, softer: “There’s something else. Before you sign.”
Mia’s stomach tightened. “Okay.”
Dana exhaled—slow, reluctant, like she was bracing herself.
“Lucas… he’s seeing Sienna again.”
The name hit like a cold wave. Mia’s fingers stilled on the mug. She didn’t speak.
“And there’s more,” Dana continued, voice dropping even lower. “They’re engaged.”
The words landed like a stone dropped into still water—slow ripples spreading, cold and heavy.
Mia closed her eyes. Let the silence stretch. The kitchen clock ticked louder than it should have. Outside, a sparrow landed on the fence post, head cocked, then flew away.
“When?” she asked finally, voice barely above a whisper.
“Announced last week. Quiet at first—charity gala photos. Then the papers picked it up. Whirlwind romance, they’re calling it.
Some of the tabloids are less kind—rebound, especially after her last engagement to that Spanish footballer fell apart.
But she’s wearing the ring. They’re planning something next year. ”
Mia opened her eyes. Watched another sparrow land on the fence post outside—same spot, same curious tilt of the head.
“He’s moved on,” she said—testing the words, tasting them. They felt foreign in her mouth, sharp-edged and wrong.
Dana made a low, frustrated sound. “I don’t believe a fucking word of it, Mia.
Not one. This is Lucas doing what he always does—trying to deny what he’s feeling again.
Burying it under something safe and shiny so he doesn’t have to look at the mess.
He’s just… running. Same way he used to run from everything that scared him before you. ”
Mia’s throat tightened. She could hear the anger simmering under Dana’s words—the protective edge, the loyalty to both of them. But it only made the ache worse.
“Dana,” she said quietly, cutting her off before the rant could build. “Don’t. Please don’t get angry.”
Dana stopped. Exhaled hard through her nose.
“I’m not angry at him,” she muttered. “I’m angry for him. And for you.”
Mia swallowed. “I understand. He needed to move on. He needed… something simple. Something he already knew. Sienna’s uncomplicated.
She fits the life he’s always had—the spotlight, the expectations, the approval.
What we had… it was too much. Too messy.
He couldn’t keep carrying it. And I couldn’t ask him to. ”
There was a long pause on the other end.
“You really believe that?” Dana asked, voice softer now, almost careful. “That he just… needed easy?”
Mia stared at the roses through the window—still blooming, still reaching for light even as the days shortened.
“He told me he loved me,” she said slowly. “I know he meant it in that moment. I don’t think he was ever ready for that. Not really.”
Dana was quiet again—longer this time.
“Okay,” she said finally. “If that’s what you need to believe to keep breathing, then okay. But Mia… I saw him after you left. He wasn’t pretending to be fine. He was barely holding it together. And I don’t think Sienna’s fixing that. I think she’s just… filling the silence.”
Mia didn’t answer right away. She let the words settle, let them ache.
“Maybe,” she said at last.
Dana sighed—half surrender, half frustration.
“And you?” she asked. “What do you need?”
Mia looked at the roses again—still blooming, still refusing to fade.
“I need to stop hiding,” she said. “I can’t stay in New Zealand forever. This job… it’s not just a job. It’s a chance to build something. To prove I’m more than what happened in Vegas. More than what happened in Oxford. More than…”
Dana’s voice softened. “You are. You always were.”
Mia let out a shaky breath.
“I’m accepting the offer,” Mia said. “I’ll sign today. I’ll be back in London by the end of next month.”
Dana laughed—relieved, bright. “I’m so fucking proud of you.”
Mia smiled—small, real.
“Tell Jax I’ll fix his media training when I get there,” she said. “He’s probably butchering every interview without me.”
Dana snorted. “He is. You have no idea.”
They talked a little longer—logistics, flights, promises to meet for coffee the second Mia landed.
When they hung up, Mia sat in silence for a long time.
Then she opened her laptop.
Signed the contract.
Closed the lid.
And went to find her parents.
They were in the kitchen—her dad reading the paper, her mum kneading dough for tomorrow’s bread.
Mia leaned in the doorway.
“I’m going back,” she said.
They looked up.
“To England,” she continued. “I accepted the job with Ascari. Comms lead. I fly out in three weeks.”
Her mother’s eyes filled instantly. Her father set the paper down slowly.
“You sure?” he asked.
Mia nodded. “I’m sure.”
Her mother crossed the room and pulled her into a hug—tight, fierce, smelling of flour and home.
“Then go,” she whispered. “But come back when you need to. Always.”
“I will,” Mia promised.
Her dad stood, walked over, and rested a hand on her shoulder.
“You’re stronger than you think,” he said quietly.
Mia looked between them—tears threatening again, but different this time. Not grief. Not loss.
Hope.
She booked the flight that night.
One-way.
London.
Ascari.
A new start.
But one last thing before she left. She needed to move on and she knew exactly how. She sent a quick message. “I’m back in England next month. How about we catch up for a coffee? Clear the air”.
A quick response “I would love that”.