Page 38 of Devlin (Lighthouse Security Investigations Montana #4)
All through dinner, Devlin felt like a caged animal. He made himself converse with the people at the table, exchanged jokes with Cole and Todd, and even managed a conversation with Percy. But his thoughts remained locked on Mia.
No matter how much he tried to focus, his attention kept drifting to her.
The way her fingers absently traced patterns on the table, the slight tension in her shoulders, the way she responded to conversation with just a fraction less warmth than usual.
She had something on her mind. He could feel it. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one.
“Mia, are you okay?” Robert asked, his voice tinged with concern.
Devlin turned his head sharply, his attention snapping to Robert, then to Mia.
She offered a small, tight smile and nodded once. “I’m fine, thanks.”
Robert wasn’t convinced. “You seem to have something on your mind that’s troubling you.”
Devlin’s jaw tensed, his gaze narrowing slightly. He didn’t like someone else pressing her for answers, not when he had been waiting all night to ask his own questions. Leaning closer to her, his voice dropped. “Are you ready to head back?”
She met his gaze, her lips curving in relief. “Yeah.”
Offering a polite smile to those at the table, she stood, and Devlin followed as they stepped outside into the cool evening air. The walk toward her quarters was quiet. Too quiet. The air between them practically crackled with her irritation, though she said nothing.
By the time they reached her room and stepped inside, the tension had thickened.
Mia whirled on him the moment the door shut, planting her hands on her hips as she glared up at him. “You were in a weird mood at dinner. What’s going on? If you’re rethinking our newfound relationship, I want to know. The last thing I want is another surprise from you.”
His head jerked back slightly, her words hitting him like a punch. Of all the things she could have suspected—that wasn’t what he expected. His voice came firm, decisive. “No, not that. Not that at all.”
Her arms crossed, skepticism clear in her stance. “Then what’s going on?”
“You seemed tense.”
“I was tense because you had growly vibes coming from you!” she bit out.
There was no smooth way to ease into it, so he just blurted it out. “What are your future plans?”
She blinked, then blinked again, her head tilting slightly as if she hadn’t heard him correctly. “I’m sorry?”
He sighed, running a hand down his face. “It’s something Moses and Enock were discussing earlier. It’s been stuck in my head all day.”
Mia frowned, confusion etched into her delicate features. “Devlin, you have to give me more than that. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
His shoulders tensed, frustration curling at the edges of his voice. “Your future plans,” he repeated. “After here. And when is that, by the way?”
She licked her bottom lip, her gaze thoughtful.
“It’s not a trick question, Mia,” he said, softening his tone. “We’ve talked so much about the past that I don’t even know what your future looks like.” The admission cost him more than he cared to admit. He didn’t know if she saw him in that future, and the uncertainty gnawed at him.
Mia turned away, walking to the bed before sinking onto the edge. Her hands clasped together in her lap, her fingers twisting slightly. Devlin glanced at the chair nearby but dismissed it. He didn’t want any distance between them. Instead, he moved to her side, settling beside her on the mattress.
“I only have another month at this camp with the WFP,” she said quietly.
Devlin’s brows lifted slightly, surprised by the short timeline.
“Dr. München has said that if I want to renew, he would love to have me. Margarethe said she would approve anywhere I wanted to go, even staying here if that’s what I chose.”
Keeping his voice even, he asked, “And what do you want?”
Her gaze dropped to her hands, fingers pressing together.
“I haven’t seen my parents in almost eighteen months.
I want to go back to Kansas and reconnect with my family, at least for a while.
The last time I was home was for Toby’s wedding.
He and his wife just had a baby boy two months ago.
” A faint, wistful smile touched her lips.
“I’m an aunt, and I haven’t even met my nephew. ”
Devlin nodded, processing her words. The thought of her younger brother, who he still pictured as a high school kid, now a husband and father was strange. “That would be good for you. I’m sure your parents would love to have you home.”
Silence settled between them, heavy with unspoken thoughts. Clearing his throat, he nudged, “And after your leave time is over?”
Mia hesitated before exhaling deeply and lifting her eyes to him.
“I’m tired, Devlin. I’ve spent the past ten years traveling the world, working in refugee camps.
I’ve been a WASH coordinator, a food security officer, a livelihood coordinator…
” She let out a short, humorless laugh. “Margarethe thinks I have a career moving up in the WFP, maybe to a managerial role. But that would still mean constant travel. More time away.”
Devlin watched her closely and saw the exhaustion in her eyes, the quiet weight pressing down on her. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers skimming along the curve of her neck.
“I hate to see you tired,” he murmured. “You give a hundred percent every day, Mia. But everyone has a breaking point. I don’t want this job to break you.”
She nodded, but a small, self-deprecating snort escaped.
“I’m proud of what I’ve done. I care about the people I help—the ones who have fled their homes, escaping war, famine, regimes that want to crush them.
Yet it feels wrong to want to go home, where I’m safe, fed, where I can shop in a market without worrying about the water making me sick. ”
Devlin met her gaze. “Do you know any refugee camp workers who never take a break?”
Her brows drew together as she considered the question, then slowly shook her head. “No. You’re right. Everyone does.”
A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
“Maybe your break will be longer than just a month. Maybe that’s what you want—what you need.
But you’re afraid of letting someone down.
Margarethe, Dr. München… the refugees.” His voice softened.
“But Mia, sometimes life takes us in different directions.”
She looked up at him, her eyes searching his. “You did that, didn’t you?” Her voice was soft, but he detected a sliver of need as she continued. “A Marine, a SEAL, working on a reservation, now working for a private security company.”
He exhaled, nodding encouragingly. “Yeah. That’s exactly right.”
Reaching for her hand, he gently pried her fingers apart, linking them with his own. His thumb traced slow circles against her skin, and he felt the subtle shift in her posture in the way her body relaxed slightly.
“So,” he prompted, squeezing her hand gently, “tell me about some of the jobs you’ve thought about taking.”
She hesitated, her eyes flickering with something unreadable. “Well… if I stay with WFP but want to be based in the US, they have an office in Washington, DC.” A pause, then a small grimace. “But I really don’t want to live there.”
Her voice trailed off as she dropped her gaze again, scanning the room as if looking anywhere but at him.
Devlin watched her, his grip on her hand steady. Something was weighing on her. He could see it in the way her shoulders held tension and her fingers fidgeted against her lap. He had a feeling there was more to say—something she wasn’t quite ready to voice.
“Mia, what’s going on?” His voice was gentle but firm. “And don’t try to tell me there’s nothing on your mind.”
She exhaled slowly, her fingers tightening around his. “It’s just something else I’ve considered doing, but I don’t want you to think it’s a new plan.”
He narrowed his gaze, giving her hands a reassuring squeeze, not understanding what she was saying. “What do you mean, a new plan?”
Mia hesitated, her expression unreadable. “We’ve only been in each other’s presence for a few days. I don’t want you to think I made a big decision just because we reconnected after so many years. It’s just that… I know the timing seems suspect. But it’s not.”
“You’re doing a good job of beating around the bush, Mia, but I’m not getting what you’re trying to tell me. Come on, honey. You’ve always been direct.”
She inhaled deeply, then grimaced. “Oh hell, let me just show you.”
She slipped her hands from his and stood, crossing the room to her desk.
Devlin leaned forward, watching as she flipped open her laptop, her fingers moving quickly over the keys.
After a moment, she clicked on her email.
Twisting slightly to glance at him, she said, “Before you read this, just… take note of the date. It was sent almost four months ago.”
Brows furrowed, Devlin stood and stepped behind her. Resting his hands on her shoulders, he leaned down, scanning the open email.
The words blurred for a moment before sharpening into focus. Feeding America – Tribal Communities Initiative. They were offering her a position working to combat food insecurity in tribal areas.
His lungs expelled air in a rush. He barely had time to absorb it before Mia clicked on another message.
“There’s another one from three months ago,” she murmured, opening a second email. “The name of the organization is a bit antiquated, but their work is good.”
This one was from the Food Distribution Program on Indian Reservations, offering her a role in food assistance, distribution, and nutritional education.
Devlin’s pulse pounded in his ears as he moved around to kneel beside her chair, placing his hands gently over hers.
“Why are you afraid of me knowing this?”