by McLean, Jay
My eyes widen in shock. “You went all the way to New York by car?”
“Yes.”
“You had no clothes, no nothing.”
“I’m extremely aware of my situation that night, Leo,” she bites out. And the way she says my name—with such hatred and disdain—it’s like a knife through my chest, a bleeding wound.
I push aside the pain and ask, curious, “So, you live with your dad?”
“Yes.” She looks around for an out.
But I’m not ready to give her one. “What’s that like?”
“It’s…” Her throat shifts with her swallow. “It’s different. I go to an all-girls boarding school, so I don’t really see him. But, he finances everything.” She shrugs. “So, there’s that.”
Disbelief washes through me, and I can’t hide it in time. I scoff and ignore her narrowed, heated eyes on mine. “Wait. So you go all the way to New York, to the state where your father lives, and then he dumps you at a boarding—”
“Don’t do that,” she cuts in, her voice slicing through the air.
I rear back. “Do what?”
“Don’t pretend to give the slightest shit about me.”
I stand, practically march over to her. “Mia, of course I care about you. What the f—”
“You say you do…” she rushes out, her hands going up between us. A barrier. A wall. Head tilted back, she makes sure I’m looking right at her when she adds, “…but your actions prove otherwise.”
“That’s bullshit,” I snap.
“Yeah?” Her shoulders square, defiant. She doesn’t break our stare. “Where’s the lie in my statement?”
I open my mouth, but nothing comes.
“Exactly,” she says.
And that knife in my heart? She’s twisting it. With every single truth she speaks, she creates another cut, a larger wound.
“Do you want me to leave?” I ask. “Because if my being here is pissing you off—”
“Why are you here?” she cuts in.
I shake my head, keep it low. “My dad sent me.”
Her voice is softer now, but each word is terse, concise. “Why? What’d you do?”
“I didn’t do anything,” I retort. And that’s the problem.
I.
Didn’t.
Do.
Anything.
I saw the red flags. I saw the way Laney’s ex, Cooper, treated her. I even saw the bruises she tried to hide.
I.
Didn’t.
Do.
Anything.
I watched Laney, my so-called best friend, turn into a shadow of herself. I watched her become distant. I saw the fear in her eyes when Cooper was around, and yet,
I.
Didn’t.
Do.
Anything.
“Leo?” Mia’s watching me, her eyes searching mine, and I don’t know where I went just now, but it wasn’t here.
It wasn’t anywhere.
I heard everything my brothers said about Mia that night. Every name, every insult. And when I realized she was there, and she heard it all, too, still,
I.
Didn’t.
Do.
Anything.
“Leo?”
I blink hard, come to, and release all the air in my lungs. Knees weak, I sit back down and admit only what I’m comfortable with. “I’m just going through some stuff right now, that’s all.”
“Are you okay? Your family… is everyone…” She’s no longer angry or unsure… She’s the fifteen-year-old version of the girl I once fell for. “Is your dad—”
“We’re fine,” I interrupt to stop her mind from wandering. “It’s Laney.” I lean forward, rest my forearms on my knees, and take a breath. “She was in an abusive relationship, and the guy—he tried to kill her. Shot her at point-blank range. It’s a miracle she survived.”
I look for a response, but her stare is blank, her expression, too.
“I’m just… I’m struggling a little to come to terms with it, so Dad sent me here thinking it might help to get away from it all.”
“Right,” she says, then inhales as if she’d forgotten to breathe. “Well, I’m sorry that happened to her. I know how close you are.” She’s looking at me, and I’m watching her, and we’re only feet apart, but this world, the entirety of the planet we live on and everything that’s occurred on it, seems to divide us.
“I do care about you,” I murmur, and it feels like such an empty statement, one screamed into a void.
She stands up, done with the conversation. “I’ll pray for Laney and her recovery.” Yeah, a lot of fucking good that’ll do. “Goodnight, Leo.”
I sigh. “Goodnight, Mia.”
Chapter Eighteen
Leo
I think I’m running away from my guilt.
That thought pops into my head, completely unprovoked, and I trip over my own damn feet, stumble, and land on my knees first, then my forearms, ass in the air.
Grace has always been one of my best qualities. Obviously. Luckily, there’s no one around to see it.
With a groan, I roll onto my back, the sharp edges of loose gravel digging into me. The morning sun blares down, right into my eyeballs, and I use my arm to shield it, wincing in pain when I realize I’ve broken skin. Awesome.
The day’s just started, and already I want out.
After replaying my conversation with Mia last night, over and over, I hadn’t been able to sleep for hours. I’d woken up at almost seven this morning, way later than the 4:20 I’m used to, and my first thought was: how do I leave?
My second thought? I can’t.
Not only would I be disappointing Dad, and maybe even John, but I didn’t want to go back home. I came here for a reason, and all I have to do is wait it out. Except, just like at the diner last night, I’m not really sure what I’m waiting on. Something to click? A sign? Is this what Lucy means when she talks about fate? Like, one day, I’ll wake up, and I’ll suddenly know that everything’s better?
Maybe I should ask Mia to pray for me, too.
Scoffing at the thought, I sit up, inspect my arms. They’re scraped to shit. Yay.
I don’t bother running back to the house. I walk, take my time, and take in the absolute lack of scenery. When I get back, Mia’s standing in front of a badass ATV in the driveway, her hair hanging loosely around her shoulders. It’s longer than I’ve ever seen it, and there are natural waves that, according to Laney, some girls would kill for. Mia’s in a loose tank so long it takes me a moment to realize she’s wearing denim cut-offs. Her legs are short, thighs thick, and damn if they don’t suit her to perfection. I slow in front of her and take out an earbud. “You good?”
Without looking up from the engine bay, she nods toward the keys already in the ignition. “Can you crank that for me?”
I do as she asks, but nothing happens.
“Dadgum,” she whispers, and I can’t stop my chuckle in time.
“Dadgum?”
She lifts her gaze, brow pinched in annoyance. Ignoring my teasing, she yells out, “Papa!”
Almost immediately, the screen door flies open, and John stands in the doorway.
Mia wipes the sweat off her brow with the back of her hand. “You told me you’ve been running this every week.”
John looks sheepish, his hands going in his pockets.
“The terminal’s corroded,” she tells him.
I’m impressed. Admittedly, a little sexist, too, but I had no idea Mia knew about this stuff.
“I’m sorry,” John says, but the smile on his face says otherwise. “Just take Holden’s.”
Mia glances toward the barn where the large doors are swung open. “Does his work?”
“Yep,” John responds, and with that, he goes back into the house.
For the first time since I’ve been standing here, Mia looks at me for longer than a second. “You go for a run?”
“Yeah.”
“What route do you take?”
“I don’t have a route; I kind of just… run.”
She nods, then huffs out a breath. She seems annoyed that I’m here.
“What happened to your arms?” She’s moving toward me now, her expression switching to one of concern.
I clear my throat. “I fell.”
“Clearly.”
She motions for me to show her, so I push aside my embarrassment and lift my arms, rotating them so she can inspect them. She winces. “Does it hurt?”
“Yeah, a little.” I’d forgotten it was there, to be honest. But I’ll milk the moment. Besides, we’re on a dairy farm. It seems fitting. I laugh at myself, out loud, and her eyes snap to mine.
“What’s funny?”
I flatten my features. “Nothing.”
She sighs. “Well, you should probably get it cleaned up before it gets infected.”
I smirk. “Yes, ma’am.”
By the time I shower, clean up my wounds—which aren’t that bad—and step back outside, Mia’s standing beside a different ATV, and it’s even bigger and badder than the first one. John’s on the porch steps, his arms crossed, and I stand beside him. Cross my arms as well. “When was the last time you checked the parlors?” Mia asks John. She starts the engine, smiling when it roars to life.
“A while. Is that where you’re going?”
Mia nods.
John says, “Well, take the boy with you.”
“The boy has a name, Papa,” Mia deadpans, and I can tell the absolute last thing she wants is to be around me.
“Yes,” John says, slapping my shoulder. “The Boy.”
Mia’s eyes meet mine. “You want to come?”
Shrugging, I make my way toward her. “Hands here,” she says in warning, tapping at the handles on either side of the rear seat. “Nowhere else.”
It takes us about five minutes to get to a row of large structures made of steel. I wait for Mia to get off the ATV before doing the same. She starts walking toward one of the buildings, and, over her shoulder, she says, “Did you tell your dad I was here?”
“No,” I reply, “Why?”
She stops, turns to me, her hand on her forehead to shield the sun from her eyes. “Can you not? Tell him, I mean. I don’t know if he and my mom still talk, or whatever, but I’d prefer it if she didn’t know I was home.”
Confused, I shrug and answer, “Sure.” To be honest, I don’t know if Dad still speaks to Virginia. We no longer needed her services a year ago when I got my license. It had always been the plan that once I could drive, Lucas and I would step up with specific responsibilities. Besides, Lachlan, our youngest brother, was at school full-time, so it didn’t make sense to have her around. As far as I know, she’s working in Wilmington with another family, and the only reason I know that is because Lucas called her to get a brownie recipe for Laney’s birthday.
Satisfied with my response, Mia says, changing the subject, “This is the milking parlor.”
We’re standing in front of a building similar in size to the barn next to the house, only this one has no sides, just a roof. The floor is concrete, and every few yards there are bars, I assume to separate the animals. She steps up onto a raised concrete bench and grabs on to a bar with both hands.
“So, this is where the magic happens, huh?” I look around, but there’s not all that much to see.
“Have you ever seen one of these before?”
I shake my head.
“There was a whole bunch of machinery in here, but Papa sold it all. It’d hang down from the roof, and the cows would eat at this part,” she says, pointing. “And once they were calm and all the machinery had been checked, we’d attach the teat cups on the cows and boom, milk.”
I crack a smile. “Boom, milk?”
“Well,” she says, jumping off the step. She starts walking down the aisle, slowly, checking each side. “It was more complicated than that, but I figured you don’t need an extended tutorial on How to Milk Cows.” She stops when she gets to the end and walks back toward me.
I ask, “Did you do a lot of it?”
“The milking?”
My lips kick up at the corners as I nod. “I’m just picturing you when you were little, in rubber boots and overalls and a straw hat, bossing around all the adults.”
Mia laughs, and it’s so loud and free, it bounces off our surroundings and right into my chest. “I didn’t do that.”
“But the rubber boots and overalls?” I tease.
I’m onto something because her cheeks bloom pink. “Shut up.” She shoves my shoulder.
“No, it’s cute!”
She tries to shove me again, but I grasp her wrist, hold on to it. I laugh, ignoring the fact that we’re touching and that she’s mere inches away from me. “Wait.” I squeeze her wrist. “Did you have pigtails?”
“Oh my god, stop!” She pulls her hand out of my grasp, her smile waning as she takes a step back. And then another.
Suddenly, I’m all too aware of who I am to her and how she sees me. It’s clear she doesn’t want to be near me, and she’s pissed that she allowed herself even a second of laughter. I clear the aching knot in my throat. “So you brought me here to show me around?”
“I didn’t choose to. Papa asked me to bring you here.”
Dejected, I mumble, “Right.”
It takes a moment for either of us to speak, and I don’t know where she’s looking because shame has me staring at my hands. Mia breaks the silence. “He didn’t want me to come here alone.” She starts walking up a narrow set of steel stairs, motioning for me to join her. “One time, after he retired…” she begins. The stairs aren’t wide enough for two people to walk side by side, so I walk behind her, her creamy, pale legs an inch in front of me. I try to focus on her words and nothing else. “Holden and I came here on the ATVs, and a homeless man was sleeping in here.”
“Holy shit.”
“Uh-huh.” Her thighs move with every step, the muscles shifting, and goddamn, what I wouldn’t give to touch them.
Grip them.
Just once.
I hate myself.
She adds, “He pulled out a knife when he saw us.”
I choke on a breath. “What did you do?”
She’s at the top of the stairs now, and she waits for me to join her on the landing. From here, you can see everything below. I imagine a younger version of John standing here, looking down on everyone.
Mia says, “Holden told me to go wait out by my ATV. A few minutes later, they both came out. Holden told me to go home and that he’d call me later. And I… I mean, I didn’t want to leave him with a stranger, but he assured me he’d be okay.”
I’m invested in this story, like the arc of a well-written novel. “And…?”
Mia shrugs. “And he never told me what happened after. I assume he brought the man back to his house, to his mom. I wasn’t worried. Tammy always knew what to do.” She chews on her thumb, her eyes distant when she adds, “Papa says that she likes to nurture lost souls.” She’s smiling when her eyes meet mine again, but it’s the sad kind of smile that brings on pity, even if that’s not the intention.
I remember how Virginia treated her and all the things Mia had said and felt when she found out Holden and his mom were leaving.
“Anyway,” she says, her exhale heavy. “I wanted to show you this.”
She flicks a latch attached to the roof, and I realize now it’s a window of sorts. Once it’s unlocked, she pushes both sides open and the view… it’s kind of ridiculous. The world is different from up here. When you’re on the ground, you can only see what’s right in front of you. It’s dull and repetitive. From up here, though? It’s so vast, so immense.
It’s Mia’s world in one still frame.
“This is all I’d known my entire life, Leo,” she murmurs, her forearms resting on the ledge. “And for some reason, Papa thought it wasn’t enough.”
I match her position, keep my eyes trained forward.
“Whe
n my mom called about me staying with your family, it was the first time we’d heard from her in three years. He was skeptical at first, but then your dad called him. I remember the first conversation they ever had. Papa just kept saying, ‘okay, okay, okay,’ and with every one of his okays, his smile got wider.” She pauses a beat. “He thought he was doing the right thing by me, so I can’t blame him. Every decision he’s ever made since I was born has been for me. But he only sent me that first year. I chose to come back. Twice. And that... that’s on me.”
Heat burns behind my nose, and I sniff it back.
“I get why you’re here, Leo. I do.”
She shifts to face me, and reluctantly, I do the same.
“Maybe you haven’t worked it out yet, but your dad and my grandpa—they have a lot in common. They’re doing what they think is best for us, and they’re doing it alone. I respect that, and them, enough to live under the same roof as you, to do whatever it is my grandpa asks me to do when it involves you.” Eyes clouded, she finds her strength in the parts of her I once admired and says, “I’ll never give them a reason to doubt who you are as a person. Obviously, I don’t even know you. Not really.”
“Mia...” I grind out, trying to keep my frustration in check.
“I just…” She sucks in a breath. Holds it. “Leo, I can’t be around you without feeling a certain way.”
“I know,” I croak, my heart heavy, weighed down by my own fucking guilt. “But you’re wrong.” I stand to full height. “You do know me.” You’re the one person on this entire fucking planet who knows me better than anyone. “When it was just you and me, Mia, that’s who I am. That’s all I am. And I get that it’s not enough. And I get that you hate me—”
“I don’t hate anyone,” she interrupts.
I heave out a breath, crack each knuckle one by one as I stare down at her. “You don’t want to be friends,” I state, and she lowers her gaze, shakes her head.
“I can’t be friends with you, Leo.”
I ignore the twisting in my chest, the punch to my gut. “And our circumstances don’t allow us to be enemies, right?”
“I guess.” She peers up at me.
“So, it’s simple,” I tell her. “I’ll stay out of your way, and I’ll make up excuses if your grandpa asks us to do something together. And if we ever find ourselves in a situation where we’re forced to be, you can ignore me, and I’ll…”