Page 4 of Mysterious

Leave it to my brother to use a visit to see me after getting shot as a way to figure out how much longer he’ll get to have my condo all to himself. Not that I think he’s ever alone there. Something tells me he’s living it up at my place, probably having parties every night of the week.

My parents shoot him a look of disapproval before turning their attention back to me. “I’m so happy your job is going well,” my mother says and then adds, “other than getting shot, that is.”

I can never tell if my mother is just subtly funny or off the wall bizarre when she says things like that. My father turns to look at her like he’s sure it’s the second option, but he’s so used to her being like this that he simply shakes his head.

“What your mother means is it’s clear you and Mia have cultivated a good working relationship. Most employers don’t sit by the bedside of someone who works for them.”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I meant,” my mother says, blushing.

It’s all very strange and makes me wish Mia had moved her hand before they walked in, but still she keeps it resting on my chest. I’m sure my family thinks we’re involved romantically, which isn’t true.

At least not yet. Not really.

I glance over at her to see she has no idea anyone is paying attention to where she’s touching me. Letting my gaze drop to her hand on my chest, I smile when I lift my eyes to look at her.

Finally, she understands what I’m trying hard to say without saying any words. Yanking her hand back into her body, she stands up quickly, clearly uncomfortable.

“I’m going to go talk to whoever is in charge to see why you haven’t been discharged yet. I think I need to talk to the people who send the bill too since I don’t want you to have to pay for this. It was very nice to meet all of you.”

“Mia, I have insurance, so you don’t have to worry,” I say, but it’s no use.

She shakes her head, frowning back at me. “No, you were shot doing something for me. I’ll take care of it.”

The four of us watch her hurry out of the room, and when she’s gone, my mother says, “What’s it like to have a superstar be a fan of yours?”

And there it is. At least I didn’t have to wait long before one of them said something.

“It’s not like that,” I say, utterly unconvincingly. Even I don’t believe what I’m saying.

“You may not think so, but she does,” my mother says with a knowing smile as she looks over at my father nodding his agreement. “I’m not the only one who saw how much that girl cares for you, honey.”

“I think you definitely have a fan, Liam,” my father says with a twinkle in his eye.

“Seriously, guys, it’s not like that. She’s just upset because she saw me get shot. It’s nothing more. Don’t make a big deal out of this. Please?”

Wilder taps on my left forearm, and I turn to see him wearing a shit-eating grin. “If Grandma was here, you know what she’d be saying? You’re protesting too much.”

I shake my head and roll my eyes. “Nice butchering Shakespeare there, man. And I’m not protesting, so all of you stop it. I have to work with this woman. Don’t make it weird.”

“Nobody’s making it weird, honey. We’re just telling you what’s obvious to everyone,” my mother says sweetly.

“Well, stop mentioning it. Maybe we can focus on the fact that I got shot. How about that?”

As soon as the words leave my mouth, I know I said the wrong thing. My mother’s face contorts into an expression of pure sadness, and it looks like at any second, she’s going to start crying.

My father throws me a dirty look, just to reinforce my knowledge that I screwed up, so I quickly say, “But I’m going to be fine. Just some stitches. Nothing else. I mean, they wouldn’t let me out of the hospital if I was in bad shape, would they?”

A muted happiness returns to my mother’s face, so at least that’s something. Of course, she’s never more thrilled than when she thinks I’ve met The One. That’s how she refers to every woman I’ve gotten into a relationship with for the past five years. The One. They never are that one single soul who I want to spend the rest of my life with, but hope forever springs eternal in Abbi Jackson’s motherly mind.

“Will you be able to return to your job?” my father asks in his typical no-nonsense fashion.

I nod, happy to be talking about something other than Mia and how the two of us feel about one another. “Absolutely. She’s got a tour coming up, and I need to be there to make sure at every city she stops in that there’s the right kind of security. You should have seen what they used to do for her. The biggest new star in the music world and I swear they used to cross their fingers and hope everything would work out. She’s lucky she didn’t get kidnapped or worse with what her former head of security used to do.”

“She’s lucky to have you then,” my father says with a smile I know means he wants to bust my ass about how I’m breaking my number one rule I’ve always followed in my business.

Never get close to the client.

A nurse thankfully ends any chance of that conversation occurring when she walks into the room with papers for me to sign. My family takes that as their cue to leave and come around to where Wilder has been sitting.

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