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“He found me somehow, when we got here. He says I owe him money,” I said softly, wishing, hoping,prayingthat she would say something. “He said he lost a lot of money when I left, and that I have to pay him back or else he- he’ll f-find my sister, and-”

I couldn’t finish the sentence, too afraid to even finish the thought in my own head.

“And that’s it,” I finished, my entire body numb and… strangely liberated.

The longer I stared at Reid, the louder her silence grew. I waited for her to say something, to yell or laugh orsomething. She just sat there, her eyes shining with unshed tears.

I should have kept my fucking mouth shut.

Chapter 30

Tears Like Stars In Her Eyes

REID

Istaredandstaredat Mia, frozen to the spot on my sofa.

If I cared enough to check, I’d find my body humming, somewhere between numb and electric. My fingers were cold against the lingering warmth of my coffee cup, my toes brushing the lush carpet beneath my feet.

But instead I stared, my eyes burning with tears I smothered, at the woman sitting in front of me. For six years she’d worked by my side, quickly becoming someone I trusted with my life. Quicker in becoming my friend.

Somewhere along the way, I’d fallen for her, without even knowing the scars she hid. But she wore them now, just for me, her chin high despite the fear in her eyes. I felt like an idiot.

I’d spent my entire life believing I could read people around me, easily guess the stories they carried along with them. It was one of the reasons I turned my business to empowering others, those who needed it. I thought I was good at it, at reading people.

But Mia wasn’t just anyone.

I swallowed around the hoarseness in my throat, like sandpaper and chalk, trying to figure out how…

How Mia had gone through so much and still came out of it kind. When the world had only shown her how to hate, how to be cruel and greedy, Mia had stayed gentle. It was that strength, the kind of quiet, unyielding strength that comes from cruelty, that broke my heart.

Mia looked at me, waiting for me to say something but I couldn’t speak. No words I offered would ever make any of it okay, none of it would make a damn difference. Not when she’d laid out her past like constellations on a map.

Anything I said would sound wrong because there were no words to tell her how beautiful she was. There were no words to explain to her how much I envied her strength but also how much I wished she’d never needed it.

I watched each tear slide down her wet cheeks, dripping off her chin like rain off leaves, and I wondered if she’d ever allowed herself to mourn the young woman she might have been if the world had cared about her.

I wondered if she’d ever thought she might not be worth more than what she was dealt, and the thought alone cracked my chest open.

“Please,” she whispered, begged, and I sat up, alert. “Please say something.”

My feet moved before the rest of my body knew what was happening, and my arms banded around her shoulders, damn near crushing her body to mine. Like a cord had snapped, she went limp in my arms, sobs racking through her body in violent waves.

It was all I could do to hold onto her, make sure she didn’t shake apart, and let the fabric of my shirt soak up her tears. I turned my body to bring her closer, to shield her from whatever she was running away from. She cried as though her world had ended and started again, trembling so hard that I thought she might jump right out of my hands.

But she didn’t; she curled into me, her face buried in my chest asyearsof anguish poured out of her.

I’d never felt so helpless.

I waited with her, waited for her grief to quieten, for her body to grow tired of the agony. There was only so much a person could express in one day, and Mia had done thrice that, if not more. Slowly, her sobs lessened to muffled gasps, her shoulders loose with exhaustion, and I pressed my lips to her ear.

“Everything I want to say to you,” I whispered, speaking through the pain in my own throat, “is jumbled up and probably not the right thing to say. I can tell you, though, that you’re safe here. That whatever you say stays with me, within these walls, if you’d like. And that everything out there can’t touch you in here.”

She only nodded, her trembling fingers gripping the back of my shirt.

“Thank you,” I told her. “For trusting me with this. For trusting me enough to tell me. And, for what it’s worth, I hope you know that you are so much more than just your past. There isn’t a single thing in your life that you ever need to be ashamed of, no matter what happens. You’re so strong, Mia.”

“I’m so tired of being strong,” she cried, and I held her tighter.