Page 139 of Hidden Echoes

She was silent for a moment, swirling the straw around in her cup. "It's okay, Mia."

I waited as she seemed to choose her words.

"Carter and I grew apart when he turned to drugs. Before that, I still tried to be around, to help him, but there came a point where it became impossible. I knew I couldn't go back."

The sincerity in her tone took me by surprise. I had expected resistance, perhaps a change of subject, but not this frankness.

"But did you want to?"

She sighed, leaning her elbow on the table. "Of course. He's my brother."

I was quiet for a few seconds before saying, "But you still miss him."

Lara smiled, a sad smile this time. "Every day."

I let that sink in for a moment before asking, "If you could, would you try again?"

She hesitated before answering, "I don't know. I guess it just depends on him, you know? You can't save someone who doesn't want to be saved."

I bit my lip, playing with the straw in my milkshake. “Maybe he just doesn’t know how to accept help.”

Lara looked at me thoughtfully for a moment. "Maybe."

We sat in silence, the noise of the food court around us seeming distant. I wanted to say something that would make it better, but there were no magic words to fix a broken relationship.

"I just wanted him to be okay." She admitted softly. "I miss him."

I looked at her and smiled slightly, without the usual excitement, but with something genuine. "Maybe one day he'll come back to you."

Lara smiled back, but there was a shadow of uncertainty in her eyes. Still, I felt like for the first time in a long time, she let someone see this part of her.

And maybe that would be a start.

CHAPTER 28

MIA

I wake up to the warmth of Zane’s arms wrapped securely around me, his body pressed close, like if he lets go even a little, I’ll slip away forever. I smile to myself, burrowing deeper into his embrace, inhaling the familiar scent of him, feeling the steady rhythm of his breathing against my neck.

We’ve always slept like this—clinging to each other even when we didn’t mean to. In the beginning, we’d wake up tangled together, confused, trying to figure out how the hell it kept happening. Like magnets.

I shift slightly, and Zane groans in protest, his arms tightening around me as if to say, not yet.

"Zane," I murmur, amused.

He exhales a slow breath, his grip loosening just enough for me to slip free. His eyes are still heavy with sleep as he watches me, and for a second, I see him—the version of Zane who used to laugh with me without hesitation. He runs his fingers through my hair, murmuring,

"Morning."

Instead of answering, I trail my fingertips down his neck and press a quick kiss to the tip of his nose—a fleeting, innocent gesture. Or at least, it’s meant to be.

But the moment my lips brush his skin, something shifts.

Zane exhales sharply, his grip on my waist tightening as if the simple touch jolts something deep inside him.

God, the way his breath hitched when I touched him—barely a brush of my fingertips down his neck and he was already starting to unravel. I could feel it.

His pulse stuttering under my palm, thighs shifting like his body was opening for me without him even realizing it. Reflexive. Natural. Like he was meant to.

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