Page 45 of Prospect Year

Lola slipped his fingers around hers. “Tell me.”

Mia didn’t want to tell him. She didn’t want to think about it. She searched his eyes. As always, she saw nothing but encouragement. No judgement. Just like the day he discovered her scars, he didn’t care about them and never treated her differently afterward. She took a deep breath and lifted her hands, running her fingers across the scar that had transformed her neck. Watching his eyes, she demonstrated driving, then suddenly slammed her palms together.

“I didn’t know.” He pulled her to his chest, wrapping her in his arms. “You’ve never told me what happened. I’m so sorry.”

She melted into him. That was the sum of the accident. She hated recalling the trauma and the pain and the weeks in the critical care unit. She felt his chin settle onto the top of her head and she relaxed. If someone like him had been there during that time she felt it may have been tolerated better. But she struggled through each day and each procedure alone until a social worker told her about this place.

“That’s why you always sit in the back when we go out. I understand that now.”

Inhaling deeply, she pulled away, pushing out a breath. She hadn’t cried. Not one single tear stained her face. Well, not since arriving here. She was strong, she knew it, even if she questioned it at times. Gripping his hand, she stepped around him, giving a tug. She could show him.

Stepping into London’s office, she pulled open a drawer in one of the filing cabinets. Her finger flipped the folder tabs one by one. There it was. Slowly, she pulled it from its slot and turned toward Lola.

Mia attempted a smile. Her heart wasn’t in it, but she tried. She walked to the desk and rolled the chair back. She held the darkest part of her life in her hands. The scariest part. The months that she feared day to day if she would live. It may not have been her fault, but it changed her life. She wanted to tell him these things herself, but that ability had been ripped from her also. She hesitated only a moment then laid the folder on the desk.

***

Without question, Lola sat down and looked at the file label. Miriam Amorose.“This is confidential.”

Her smile became eased, and she pointed to the name on the folder, then to herself before nudging it closer to him. This was her life, and she was giving him permission to dive into her deepest secrets. He knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t resist. Flipping it open, he began reading, and he barely registered when she walked from the room. In minutes, he took in her past, the accident that shattered her dreams, and her recovery process.

Slowly, he closed the file. The urge to go to her was strong, stronger than any pull he’d had before. She was a strong woman. He understood that she didn’t share this with him for pity or sorrow. She did it to share a part of herself that she couldn’t thoroughly do without her voice.

Glancing toward the large clock across the room, he realized time was short. He had an order, and he couldn’t be late. He returned the folder to its place and hurried to the kitchen to tell her bye.

She wasn’t there. She would understand he had to leave. And he understood why she was hesitant to get behind the wheel again.

He ran up the stairs and grabbed the bunny suit and key to his Jeep. Pausing at her door, he forced himself to turn away. They would have time to talk later. Spinning toward the stairs, he glanced across the way toward Amber’s door. No doubt, she was still asleep. He would make this work alone.

Jogging down the steps, he ran through options of wearing the suit. He eventually decided to park away from the house to pull on the costume. Then he could arrive at the house believable. He laughed. The child was a year old. He could get away with donning the costume at the door.

He stepped into the garage and stopped in his tracks.

***

Mia didn’t miss Lola’s surprise when he stepped into the garage. Yeah, she surprised herself too. She had originally run up to her room and closed the door and fell onto her bed. Instantly, her stomach had twisted. Not the normal feeling when recalling her accident, but the kind that told her she could do better. Lola had been there for her when she needed a kind word or just someone’s silent support. And she was denying him help for something important to him. What kind of friend does that? She jumped from the bed and ran downstairs to the kitchen and grabbed the eggs she had dyed. The kids would like them. Now, here she stood, her heart racing and her fingernails cutting into her palms where she was squeezing the basket handle.

“You don’t have to do this. It’s alright, I understand,” Lola told her.

She lifted the basket filled with brightly colored eggs.

Lola laughed. “Of course, you dyed eggs. Have I told you how much of a treasure you are?”

She lifted her brows and raised along with her shoulders. Her hand shook as she slipped the key from his hand. She spun and climbed behind the wheel before she lost her nerve.

Lola tossed the bundle of fur onto the back seat and jogged to the passenger side, and climbed in. “Have you driven a stick?”

Mia nodded.

“Okay. Just take your time. And if you feel uncomfortable, pull over and I’ll take it.”

She could do this. She swallowed her fear and backed out and headed down the driveway toward the road. The first three or four miles were slow, but her heart rate began to slow and by focusing on the sound of Lola’s voice coaching her, she relaxed. When they reached Cowboy’s house, she was beginning to feel more confident of driving again.

“We’re almost there. I’m just going to climb in the back and pull on the suit. You good?”

Mia nodded without looking from the road.

Lola directed her to the driveway and hopped out when she stopped near the house. She quickly stopped him, giving him the egg basket.

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