Page 41 of Worth the Fall

I freeze, pulling back slightly to meet her eyes. She looks up at me, her lips parted, her pupils wide. I want to say yes. God, do I want to say yes. But a voice in the back of my head reminds me of the conversation we had—not rushing, not ruining this by moving too fast.

I take a shaky breath, stepping back. "Mia," I start, my voice low. "We said we’d take things slow."

Her face softens, and she nods, brushing her fingers over my cheek. "You’re right," she says, smiling slightly. "But… come inside anyway? We can watch a movie."

I smile, relief and longing mixing in my chest. "Yeah, okay."

Her apartment is exactly how I pictured it—warm and inviting, with bookshelves crammed full and a soft throwblanket draped over the back of the couch. We stumble in, laughing as we kick off our shoes by the door.

"Make yourself comfortable," she says, heading toward the kitchen. "Want something to drink?"

"Water’s fine," I say, glancing around. There’s a photo on the bookshelf that catches my eye, and I pick it up. It’s of Mia with two men—one has his arm slung over her shoulders, grinning, while the other is holding her in a mock headlock.

"Who are these guys?" I ask when she returns, handing me a glass of water.

She peers at the photo and laughs. "Those are my brothers, Nate and Josh. The one in the headlock is me, obviously."

"Obviously," I say, grinning. "You look like trouble."

"I was," she admits, sitting beside me on the couch. "They used to call me the little dictator because I was always bossing them around. But they never minded too much. We’re close."

"Are they still around here?" I ask.

"Nate’s in Texas now," she says, tucking her legs under her. "Josh lives about an hour away. We see each other as much as we can, but it’s harder now that we’re all so busy."

I nod, setting the photo back on the shelf. "You’re close with your family?"

"Very," she says, her expression softening. "I was a total daddy’s girl growing up. My dad was a welder, and I thought I’d follow in his footsteps. I even begged him to teach me how to use the equipment, but he shut that down fast."

I chuckle, imagining a young Mia trying to boss her way into a welding shop. "Why’d he say no?"

She grins. "He said I’d make a terrible welder because I talk too much. Told me to pick something where I could run my mouth and make money doing it."

"Sounds like solid advice," I say, laughing.

"It was," she admits. "But what about you? Were you always planning to go into finance?"

"Not even close," I say, shaking my head. "Hector and I used to talk about opening a restaurant together. He’d handle the cooking, and I’d manage the business side."

"Why didn’t you?" she asks, her brows lifting.

"Life happened," I say, shrugging. "Felicity came along, and I needed something stable. Finance made sense. It wasn’t what I dreamed of, but it worked."

She nods, her hand brushing against mine. "And Hector? Is he still cooking?"

"Yeah," I say, smiling. "He’s amazing at it. Still talks about opening that restaurant someday. We’re close—he’s my best friend, really. Him and my mom."

Her face softens. "What about your dad?"

"He passed a few years ago," I say quietly. "Heart attack. It was sudden."

"I’m sorry," she says, her hand covering mine.

"Thanks," I say, squeezing her hand gently. "He was a good man. Tough as hell, but fair. I learned a lot from him."

We sit there for a while, talking and sharing stories about our families. It’s easy, natural, like we’ve been doing this for years. I tell her about the time Hector and I tried to bake a cake for our mom’s birthday and set the oven on fire. She tells me about the time her brothers dared her to jump into the neighbor’s pool—while the neighbors were hosting a barbecue.

By the time we’re done laughing, the movie we’d picked is long forgotten.

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