Chapter 52
The next morning, Caleb’s hand tightened briefly around hers as they stood in the quiet kitchen. “I called Naomi,” he said. “She went through something similar once. She’s not coming as a therapist. Just as a friend. Someone who gets it.”
Mia didn’t answer right away. She fought back the reflex to say she was fine. Then she let it pass.
“Okay,” she said. “I’d like that.”
The doorbell rang later that afternoon.
Naomi came with no flowers. No pity. Just quiet eyes that understood too much.
She slipped off her shoes and sat with Mia on the couch. Caleb was at the Brotherhood in a meeting. Ranger wedged himself between them, tail thumping once before settling.
“I don’t remember parts of it,” Mia said after a while. “It’s like my brain shut doors I didn’t ask it to.”
Naomi nodded. “That’s not your brain failing you.”
Mia glanced at her.
“It’s protecting you,” Naomi continued. “After something violent, the mind closes rooms it isn’t ready to walk through yet.”
Mia swallowed. Ranger shifted closer, and she let herself lean into the weight.
Silence settled between them.
“You don’t have to talk about it today,” Naomi said. “Or tomorrow. Healing doesn’t run on a schedule.”
Mia exhaled slowly.
For the first time since coming home, she believed she didn’t have to rush back to normal.
The following day, Caleb heard the chatter of voices outside his cabin. His cue to leave.
He stepped onto the porch and greeted Joy, Naomi, Isabelle and Felicia, who came with wine bottles and dishes of food.
“Don’t worry about your girl,” said Felicia, waving a wine bottle. “She’s in good hands.”
Caleb snorted. “I’m not so sure about that. But you women have fun.”
He headed for Titus’s house and a backyard barbecue loud enough to hear from the road. Naomi had called the night before after talking to Mia and told him she needed girl time.
Mia was thankful Caleb had given her a heads-up. Time to shower, wash her hair, and straighten the cabin.
Then she heard the cars.
One by one, her friends filled the space. Wine bottles lined the counter. Someone brought salad. Another pasta. A charcuterie plate appeared. Emelia made a dessert she claimed was nothing special and smelled like sin.
There was more food than she’d ever seen just for an evening. Somehow, that felt right.
The cabin filled with familiar voices. Hugs. Cheek kisses all around. Mia greeted everyone. Ranger pressed against her thigh, getting head rubs like he was a king.
They sat and passed bowls of chips and nuts. Argued about whether it was too early for wine and unanimously decided it wasn’t.
The living room filled. More chairs were brought in. Laughter bubbled up between stories.
Then, “I hate that this happened to you,” Joy said quietly.
Mia nodded. That was all she could manage.
“I hate this keeps happening to women, over and over,” said Felicia.
That cracked something open.
“I didn’t even realize it was that bad at first,” Mia said finally. “I thought … I thought it was just bad luck. Professional competition. I kept telling myself I was overreacting. That it was me.”
A murmur of recognition moved through the room.
“I said the same thing,” said Dani softly.
“Me too,” Emelia admitted. “Right up until I couldn’t anymore.”
The stories came then. Slowly at first. Overlapping. Details spilled out sideways.
Joy talked about her cousin, who dated a developer who wanted her land. And her gone. Tessa mentioned her ex-boyfriend was an enforcer for the mob; Dani spoke about her deceased husband, who had been looking into corruption. The stories continued.
Then it struck Mia that none of the men, including Caleb, had tried to take over or fix what couldn’t be fixed.
They’d stood watch, stepped in when needed and backed off when it mattered.
Protection, she realized, wasn’t loud or controlling.
It was steady. Relentless. Still there when the worst was over.
No one interrupted.
Someone cried. Quietly. Then harder.
Someone else passed tissues without comment.
“I thought if I ignored it, everything would go away,” said Mia. “I wanted to believe if I didn’t push back, nothing worse would happen.”
“That’s a lie,” said Naomi, her voice steady. “We’re not responsible for managing other people’s behavior.”
“I keep replaying it,” Mia admitted. “Like I could have done something different.”
Naomi met her gaze. “Everyone here has starred in that reel. Always second-guessing, doubting yourself. It doesn’t mean you missed something. It means you survived and came out stronger on the other end.”
That did it.
Mia broke then. Big, fat tears streamed down her cheeks. Arms wrapped around her. Ranger shifted, alert but calm, pressing closer.
They stayed like that for a while. No fixing. No platitudes. Just women who knew what it meant to be watched, cornered, afraid. And who were still standing.
Later, when the food was gone and the wine had passed one more time, the conversation drifted to lighter things. Plans. Complaints. Someone laughed.
Mia leaned back against the couch cushions, exhausted and wrung out but steadied by the realization that she was being held up by more than one pair of hands.
For the first time since it happened, she didn’t feel so alone anymore.
Caleb came back late.
The cars were gone, but the lights were still on inside the cabin. He let himself in quietly.
Empty glasses sat on the counter. Dishes were stacked beside the sink. All clean.
Mia was curled up on the couch, shoes kicked off. Ranger stretched out along her legs. He cracked one eye when Caleb approached, then closed it again. Her face was blotchy; her eyes were red-rimmed.
Caleb stopped a few feet away, his heart tightening. He didn’t ask how it went.
He crouched beside her instead and brushed the hair away from her face.
She opened her eyes. “We talked,” she said hoarsely.
He nodded. That was enough.
“Cried,” she added. “A lot.”
He gave her a small smile. “Good.”
She huffed weakly. “They all had stories. Creepy ones. Worse ones.” She swallowed hard. “It wasn’t just me.”
Caleb’s jaw tightened. He knew the stories. Knew how the women overcame adversity and became stronger.
“I’m wrung out,” she admitted. “But lighter.”
He shifted onto the edge of the couch and carefully gathered her against his chest. Ranger sighed and adjusted, clearly resigned to being squished.
Caleb rested his chin against her hair. “That’s what happens when you don’t carry it alone.”
The thought lingered. His friends carried heavy things too, but they’d been trained for it. The women hadn’t been. They leaned on each other instead. And they survived.
She nodded. “Thank you for going out. For not hovering.”
“I trust you,” he said simply. “And I trust them.”
They stayed like that for a long time. Caleb was awake long after her breathing evened out. He stared into the dim room, one hand resting over her back. Ranger’s steady warmth at their feet. The house was quiet. Safe for now.
But Dana was still out there.
And Caleb knew better than to mistake silence for an ending.