Page 130 of The Kiss of Deception

“I have to go, Mom.” I let her go.

“Darling, are you in any shape to drive?” Her eyes bore into me with concerned assessment. “Maybe you should stay. Rest, eat.”

“I need to go home, Mom. Miles… A lot happened and…” She softens, knowing. “What if he realizes I’m more work than I’m worth?”

Silence answers as she stares at me impassively, giving me all the time to hear myself.

I deflate, lowering to the stairs, rubbing my temples in circles. “I'm doing it again, aren't I? Even now. Always expecting people to leave me.”

“It’s okay to be scared, darling.” Mom sits next to me. “It’s normal—human. But don’t let your fears dictate your actions.”

She’s right.

I can’t control my fears. But I can make sure they don't control me. I can recognize the telltale signs of its claws sinking into my skin and uncurl them from my limbs. I can make sure they don’t steal my happiness—or the possibility.

And I should get her therapist’s contact.

“Who knew getting gunned down by a stalker would be the least of my damage,” I half-joke, wiping my cheeks with a sleeve.

“Zoe Beatrice.”

Uh-oh. The middle name means trouble.

“Too soon?”

She flattens her lips, unamused. “It will always be too soon for those jokes.”

“Noted.”

“And ignored?”

A genuine smile makes an appearance for the first time in 24 hours. “And ignored.” I hoist myself up, dusting my hands on my pants. “I have to go.”

Her soul-deep scrutiny is followed by an unconvinced nod. “Alright. But you’ll eat something, at least.” With surprising swiftness, she snatches my hand and pulls us to the kitchen. “Text me when you get there. And call me whenever you need anything, whatever it is.”

“Okay.”

Mom stops us in our path, putting herself right in front of me. “I mean it, Zoe. Promise me.”

It has never been easy for me to ask for help—or to accept it. But I mean it when I say, “I promise.”

Chapter Thirty-Three

Zoe

The hospital doesn’t reek of antiseptic today.

Well, it does, in all likeliness—but I can’t be sure.

Because Miles is here. And as soon as I see him with his disheveled hair that falls across his forehead and deepens the dark shadows under his lashes and his day-old clothes that cling wrinkled around his muscles, my nose finds traces of sunshine in the atmosphere and a current of fresh air hugs my skin.

He’s still here.

He didn’t leave.

He didn’t abandon me.

Deep down, I’ve always known it. Under my fears and the whispers from my past, part of me has always trusted with blind belief that Miles would stay. Now I see it, too, and it fills me with such a throat-clogging wave of emotions that I want to run and launch myself into his arms.

---