Page 26 of Devlin (Lighthouse Security Investigations Montana #4)

“Logan had to get out, too. His knee was never going to let him jump from planes again,” he continued.

“He moved to Montana and started flying rescues over the mountains. He… also started running a few under-the-radar ops. After I healed, I spent time with my family, but every day in Kansas, I kept vigilant, terrified I’d see your parents, and I didn’t want to see the disappointment in their eyes. It was bad enough from my parents.”

Then I started using my skills to help people.

I ended up working with a man in tribal security.

Eventually, I followed him from Kansas to Montana, not far from Logan.

He came looking for me and practically discovered me in his own backyard.

We found Sisco in El Paso, and he and I were the first two hires.

I’ve been with Logan for about two years now. ”

For several minutes, neither of them spoke.

The thick silence pressed against Mia’s chest as though a tangible weight.

Thoughts stormed inside her mind, a chaotic tangle of emotions and memories, each vying for dominance.

She lifted a trembling hand from where it rested against her heart and rubbed her temples, squeezing her eyes shut as if that would still the chaos within her.

The bed shifted again, the small space amplifying even the slightest movements.

Then she heard footsteps. Opening her eyes slightly, she turned just in time to see Devlin disappear into her tiny bathroom.

She frowned, listening as he rummaged around, followed by the unmistakable rattle of pills.

A moment later, he emerged, crossing the room with steady steps.

He held out a few ibuprofen tablets and a bottle of water.

“If I thought a shot of whiskey would help, I’d try to find some for you,” he said, his voice low and edged with something she couldn’t quite name. “But I spent too much time at the bottom of a bottle to recommend that. Water and pain relievers will do the trick.”

A soft, unexpected snort escaped her. Shaking her head, she took the offering, swallowing the pills and finishing the water.

When she lowered the bottle, she saw that he was still waiting, his hand extended.

Silently, she passed it back to him, and he returned it to the nightstand before resuming his spot on the bed, facing her once more.

The air between them felt dense, filled with the past decade's unspoken words. There was still so much to say, so much she needed to process. Everything he had told her tonight had already altered the foundation of what she had believed for years.

She could hold on to her anger, demand that he leave, and vow never to see him again.

But out of everything he had said, one fact lodged itself deep into her mind—the sheer impossibility of them meeting in a refugee camp in Uganda.

What were the odds? Perhaps it meant nothing.

Or perhaps, it meant everything. She owed it to herself and to him to think before making any life-altering decisions.

Had she been too hasty all those years ago? Should she have fought harder for the truth? She had made an assumption, and he had let her believe it. But the man she had loved with all her heart—the man she thought she knew—would never have cheated.

She sighed heavily, rubbing her temples again, unsure if her headache would ever go away.

“I was so broken,” she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper. “When I saw the look in your eye as you leaned against that bathroom door… dressed only in a towel, hanging low on your hips… and that woman in bed behind you, with what looked like sex hair and no clothes…”

She winced at the memory, the sharp pain of it slicing through her all over again.

“I looked at you, waiting for you to tell me it wasn’t what it looked like.

That I had it all wrong. But you said nothing.

You just cocked a damn brow at me and stood there so casually, like you were daring me to say something.

And when I ran… I thought you’d come after me.

I sat in the parking lot for a few minutes, waiting, sure that as soon as you got dressed and realized I’d left, you’d follow.

But you didn’t.” Her voice cracked slightly.

“And my heart broke. I’ve never felt pain like that before.

Not in the past ten years. Not even once. ”

She exhaled shakily. “After that, I wondered if everything you ever told me was a lie.”

“Mia,” he rasped, his voice thick with emotion, “I swear, I have never lied to you. Not once. I let you believe the worst because… at first, I was shocked that you were standing there. And then, I realized that letting you believe it would set you free. And maybe, just maybe, you’d be better off.”

Mia swallowed hard, but the lump in her throat refused to budge. She could barely look at him, could barely hold the weight of his words, because the sheer audacity of it—of him deciding she needed to be set free, of him choosing for her—was almost too much to bear.

Her voice came out cold, flat. “You thought you were doing me a favor?”

Devlin flinched, the guilt on his face stark in the dim lighting. “I?—”

“No.” She cut him off, her eyes burning. “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to sit here and act like some noble martyr. You shattered me. And you had a choice. To fight for me. To tell me the truth. And you let me walk away.”

She exhaled sharply, pushing off the bed to put some space between them. Because if she stayed too close, she wasn’t sure if she’d lash out or completely fall apart.

Pacing the small room, she ran a shaking hand through her hair.

“Do you even know what it did to me?” She turned back to him, her eyes flashing.

“Ten years, Devlin. Ten years of believing I wasn’t enough.

That I was a fool. That everything we had meant nothing.

And you let me believe it, knowing it would rip me apart. ”

His jaw clenched, but he didn’t try to argue.

She inhaled deeply, trying to steady the trembling in her hands and voice. “I was broken. And instead of pulling me back, you let me drown.”

His head dipped forward, his hands scrubbing over his face. He looked exhausted, worn, wrecked. But that didn’t change anything.

When he lifted his gaze, his eyes were red-rimmed, filled with something she wasn’t sure she wanted to name. “I thought I was doing the right thing,” he rasped. “I thought… maybe, if I was gone, you’d be free of me. That you’d go after your dreams instead of trying to save me from myself.”

Mia exhaled sharply. “You don’t get to decide what’s best for me.”

He nodded slowly, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. “I know that now.”

Her breath was uneven, her body trembling. She should still be furious. She was furious. But beneath it, something else clawed at her ribs—grief. The loss of all those years. The life they could have had.

She clenched her jaw and forced herself to push past it. “And what about that letter?” she demanded. “The one where you didn’t deny a damn thing and only said you were sorry?”

His jaw tensed. “Because after you left that day, I lost it. I went into a rage. Cheryl felt awful—she was crying, saying she’d talk to you and try to explain.

But all I could think about was that you deserved better than me dragging you down.

So I told her not to worry about it. Later, I found out she tried to call you, but you had already changed your number.

” He let out a slow, bitter breath. “A couple of weeks later, I was drowning in regret. I wrote you that letter because I never meant to break your heart.”

His eyes squeezed shut for a moment, and she could see the pain radiating from him. When he looked at her again, his voice was a hoarse whisper. “I swear on my life, my Mia, I never meant to break your heart. But I did. And my own broke right along with it.”

She let out a shuddering exhale, pressing her fingers against her temples, hating the way her body reacted to those words.

The way a traitorous part of her wanted to believe him.

Because this was the Devlin she had loved.

The one who never lied. If she had thought he cheated, it was only because he let her believe it.

The silence between them stretched tight, fragile, neither of them moving.

Finally, she exhaled sharply and wiped at her cheeks, hating how vulnerable she felt. “You still don’t get it, do you?” Her voice was soft but razor-sharp. “It wasn’t just about what I thought happened that day. It was about everything after. You let me leave. You let me go.”

His face crumpled, pain slicing through his expression. The words hung between them, heavy and raw.