Page 102 of Never Fall for an Angel

I shake my head. Lily’s story is one that keeps me up at night when I can’t sleep. I’ve watched her grow up from a five-year-old crying little girl to an eight-year-old that doesn’t take shit from anyone.

Oddly enough, she reminds me of Mila.

“She was sold by her grandfather to pay off an underground brothel in New York.”

She’s silent and I feel her stiffen beside me.

“How old was she?”

“Five.”

“And her mother?” Mila asks quietly. “She spoke about her.”

“She was murdered. Shortly before Lily was sold.”

She lets out a deep breath, trying—and failing—to discretely wipe a tear from slipping down her cheek. My chest feels tight. Heavy with each breath. I think I surprise even myself when I reach across the center console and place my hand over hers in her lap. She jumps but doesn’t push me off.

It shouldn’t mean anything, but a new kind of darkness stirs inside me.

The dangerous kind.

Carefully, like I might bite her, she twists her hand over and entwines our fingers. Both of us are silent.

Why does holding her hand feel like the most intimate thing we’ve ever done?

“I would like to help her,” Mila says softly.

“What would you like to do?”

She blinks at me like she’s surprised I’m open to the idea.

“New bedding, for a start. Their blankets are tattered. All of them.”

I nod, my fingers tightening around hers when she attempts to disentangle them.

Fuck her, she’s not getting it back.

“She’s been there a long time. Three years in a month or two.”

“And she has no family?”

“None that wouldn’t put her through a worse hell than what she’s already suffered.”

She’s quiet, staring out the window ahead. I wish I could step inside her mind and see what’s really going through that pretty little head of hers. Especially after I found her screaming and in a full panic.

“Mila.”

She peeks over at me, finding me watching her.

“Do you think I’m being harsh with my own mother? Disappearing the way I did.”

It’s the first time she’s spoken about her mother out loud.

“I think you were dealing with a lot of shit happening all at once.”

“I don’t know,” she breathes, a tear slipping down her cheek and falling on top of my head. “I can’t help but feel like maybe if I had spoken to her . . .”

“This trip wasn’t about guilting yourself, Mila. You’re allowed to have demons, just like everyone else. It’s what you do now that matters.”

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