Page 86 of Hidden Echoes

Every time Mia suddenly went limp, every time she slumped against me mid-sentence, every time she dozed off in the most chaotic situations—it wasn’t just her being reckless or exhausted. It was this.

I’ve been noticing it, but I never connected the dots. And now that I do, I feel like an idiot for not seeing it sooner.

I rake a hand through my hair, my chest tightening. “What can I do to help her?” The words come out before I even process them, but I mean them. If this is something Mia’s been dealing with alone, I don’t want that to be the case anymore.

Charlie watches me, her sharp eyes calculating. “Well, for starters, she needs structure. Routine. Stability.” She smirks. “Which is hilarious, considering you two are the least stable people I know.”

I scowl at her, but she’s not wrong. My life has never exactly been a beacon of order, and Mia? Mia is chaos incarnate. “So what? I’m supposed to turn into some kind of personal schedule planner?”

Charlie shrugs. “It wouldn’t hurt. Keeping track of when she’s most prone to sleep attacks, helping her set alarms, making sure she gets proper rest—little things like that could make a difference. Oh, and make sure she’s not in dangerous situations when she’s alone.”

I tense at that. “She’s always in dangerous situations.”

“Exactly.” Charlie levels me with a look. “Narcolepsy isn’t just about randomly dozing off. Imagine she’s driving, crossing a street, holding a knife—”

“She does that a lot,” I mutter, thinking of how casually Mia handles blades.

“Yeah, not exactly ideal. And the cataplexy part? That’s the muscle weakness. She might collapse if she gets too emotional—laughing, crying, anything.”

I replay the moments in my mind. The way her legs gave out when we argued. The way she slumped into me when she laughed too hard. I thought she was just being dramatic, but no—her own body was betraying her.

Charlie leans forward, her expression unreadable now. “I know you don’t want her to feel like she’s being babysat, but you should at least be aware of what sets her off. She’s reckless, Zane. And you—” she tilts her head—“you’ve already got it bad for her.”

I open my mouth to argue, but the words die before they reach my lips. Because she’s right. The thought of her collapsing somewhere, alone and vulnerable, sends a cold, sick feeling through me.

Charlie smirks, like she sees right through me. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.” She turns back to her desk, pulling out a file. “I’ll send over some research and recommendations. In the meantime, try not to let her get herself killed.”

“Easier said than done,” I mutter, already thinking about how the hell I’m supposed to handle this without Mia feeling like I’m controlling her.

Because if there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s that Mia doesn’t take well to being controlled.

Charlie continues, “Now, psychologically, that’s a bit more complicated. She reports psychosis, but also cognitive impairment that affects her reasoning and perception of reality. I need to evaluate her further before slapping a concrete label on it. But one thing’s for sure—Mia doesn’t need a legal guardian.”

A weight lifts off my chest. “Good.”

“But,” she adds, lifting a finger, “I’ll appoint you as one just in case. If she ever ends up in a situation where she’s vulnerable, this could help.”

I frown. “I don’t want her to feel trapped.”

Charlie exhales sharply, like she already knew I’d say that. “Yeah, well, neither do I. That’s why I talked to her first—before even bringing it up to you.” She lifts a shoulder in a careless shrug. “She’s on board. She wants you in her life. Your relationship is… unconventional, but if it works for you, who am I to judge?”

I stay quiet at that.

Charlie studies me for a second. “What is it?”

I let out a slow breath, rubbing my face. “It’s just… she talks to people that aren’t there. And she gives them names—Pinocchio, Bubbles. It’s not just random muttering either. She has full conversations with them, like they’re real.”

Charlie nods, her expression unreadable. “Yeah, I put that in her reports. Hallucinations aren’t uncommon for people with her condition. The real question is whether she knows they aren’t real or if she genuinely believes in them. Either way, I’ll factor that into her evaluation.”

I shift uncomfortably. “And then there’s the fact that she collapses all the time. Like, everywhere. I always thought she was just careless or exhausted, but now it actually makes sense.” I let out a frustrated sigh. “I should’ve noticed sooner.”

Charlie shrugs. “You’re noticing now. That counts for something.”

I nod, but something in her tone makes me pause. She’s holding something back.

“What?” I ask.

Charlie smirks, but there’s something sharper underneath it. “I did a little research on Mia.” She leans forward, elbows on her desk. “Tell me, have you ever paid attention to her necklace?”

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