Page 21 of Offside Devil

Soft, muffled crying.

Mira yanks the hallway closet open and Aiden spills out. His shaggy hair is covering his eyes and his arms are wrapped around his knees. He’s shaking.

Mira whips around to face me, her jaw clenched. “Did you lock him in there?”

“What? No!”

She studies me for a second like she’d be able to see the truth written on my face. Then, all at once, she turns away and kneels next to Aiden, oblivious to the way her dress slides up her thighs.

“Are you Aiden? I’m Mira.”

He looks at her, tears staining his round cheeks.

“Are you okay?” she asks softly. “I heard you crying.” She gives him a sad smile when he says nothing. “Sometimes, I cry, too. And a closet is a good place to cry. It’s dark and you can be alone. If you want to be alone, we can leave and you can?—”

“No!” Aiden’s hand darts out and wraps around Mira’s wrist.

Holy shit.

It’s the first time I’ve heard his voice.

“Okay. I’ll stay.” Mira glances up at me and I try to look unfazed, but my fucking God, he said something to her.

That has to mean something. I’m not sure I want to know what.

“We can talk,” Mira suggests. “Or sing. Or maybe we can?—”

“Sing,” Aiden whispers, shifting closer to her side.

Mira tucks an arm around him and smiles. “I shouldn’t have offered to sing. I’m not very good at it and I don’t know very many songs. Are there any you like?”

Aiden frowns. After a second, he shakes his head.

Did Paige ever sing to him? Did she ever hold him like this?

“That’s alright. My grandma used to sing to me sometimes. I remember one she liked.”

Aiden and I both watch transfixed as Mira closes her eyes and starts singing what I could swear is an Italian lullaby. I have no idea what she’s saying, but it’s slow and peaceful. Mira’s voice catches in a few places, but Aiden doesn’t seem to mind. My son tucks his head against Mira’s shoulder.

By the second verse, his eyes are closed.

By the third, he’s breathing deeply.

I stand there, watching until she’s finished. The last note is still hanging in the air when she looks down and sees that he’s asleep.

“I think you have a fan,” I croak. “He liked your song.”

“Only because it was in Italian.” She gives me a guilty smile. “It’s a song about sending your baby to a witch because they won’t stop crying. My grandma sang it to me a few times when I was really little. I liked it, too, until I found out what it meant.”

Aiden curls closer against Mira’s side.

She looks up at me nervously. “Sorry. I probably shouldn’t have charged in here and introduced myself. Since I don’t have the job or whatever. But I heard him crying and I—I was worried.”

She was worried that I locked my son in a closet. I should probably stop and unpack why the fuck that was her first thought, but it doesn’t matter.

Mira is good for my son. Right now—after everything he’s been through—that’s all that matters.

“The job is yours if you want it.”

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