Page 33 of Prince of Storms
“What would you call this, then?” Mia said, gesturing out the door at my truck.
Ally went over, and a visible shock ran through her. “What the hell happened?”
“Tor thinks the battery blew up.”
I shrugged when both women looked at me, and I gestured for them to come back inside. “I have no other ideas what it may be, but there was a burst of bright light and a loud bang. Did you not hear it?”
“I thought I did,” she said, nodding. “But I was back there talking with Timothy while he changed Axel, so we weren’t entirely sure. I’m glad you two are okay.”
“We’re fine,” I assured her, peering past her out one of the windows. Was that movement I saw in the shadows? “Thank you for the hospitality for the evening.”
“It’s not a problem,” Ally said, settling into the recliner in the middle of the living room while gesturing for Mia and me to sit on the full-length couch.
I couldn’t help but be hyperaware of the seating arrangement. Had it been a conscious decision on Ally’s part? I sat in one corner, giving Mia the option of where to sit. It was no surprise when she ended up on the far end instead of the middle. Ally might have smirked, but she hid it well.
We chatted for a bit about nothing. All the while, Ally looked back and forth between us. I could tell she was practically willing Mia to move closer, but her looks and mental insistence had no effect. Eventually, her baby started crying, so she reluctantly bade us goodnight.
I settled back into the couch, aware that it was now just Mia and me. In her house. Nobody else around. Searching for a topic, I saw a picture on the end table that had to be of Ally, Mia, the older man from the auction who must be her father, and another woman.
“Ally’s mom?” I asked, pointing.
Mia’s face fell.
Fuck. I was an idiot. Mia had told me at the auction about her mother, but I hadn’t paid much attention to her then, and I’d forgotten.
“No, that’s my mother,” she said, crestfallen. “A few months before she died, the four of us went to see a musical here in town. Ally’s parents are hours away, so mine sort of adopted her when they left town. We often did stuff together. She’s basically a sister to me.”
“I saw that during the interrogation,” I said.
“Oh, my god,” Mia sighed. “That was so embarrassing. I’m sorry about that. She’s a bit protective of me.”
Protective wasn’t the vibe I was getting. It had seemed to me like Ally was pushing Mia toward me, but I kept silent.
“It’s fine.” I paused. “I’m sorry about your mother, Mia. I feel like an idiot, bringing that up.”
“Don’t,” she said, biting her lower lip and staring straight ahead. “It’s fine.”
I stared at the space between us, wishing I could move over, wanting to put my arm around her to help her out in any way I could.
“What happened?” I asked softly.
“We were going to go to the craft show,” Mia said softly, her voice taking on a distant tone. “She came to the apartment where I lived at the time. Was going to drive us over there. So full of life, she couldn’t wait to pick up some more yarn. She’d just recently taken up knitting and was still building her collection. She had plans to get all kinds that day.”
I watched her face as she spoke, my heart crystalizing with a mixture of shared heartache at the loss of our mothers but also frustration at my inability to console her. Despite the tension between us, she made it quite clear by her position that she wasn’t too interested in being closer to me. I had to respect that.
“We sat down on the couch to have tea before going,” Mia continued. “I was just about to take a sip, when she made a joke. I laughed, and almost spit it all over me. My mom was big about laughter, she believed it was the best thing for you.”
By that point, tears were streaming down Mia’s face, and her voice had fallen to a whisper. I could tell it was the only way she kept it from breaking down entirely.
“I turned to her and fired back with another joke just as she was about to drink. She started laughing so hard. Then she stopped, and looked at me funny. At that moment, she knew. I didn’t realize it at the time, but that was when she knew. She said ‘I love you.’ I reached out to hug her and say the same. But she was already gone. She died right there, in my arms. I …”
I could no longer just sit there and let her suffer alone. The consequences be damned. She needed support, and her friend was busy. I’d opened the can of worms, and I would deal with the consequences.
Sliding across the couch, I pulled Mia into my arms. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Mia. I can’t begin to imagine what that was like.”
She shuddered but didn’t pull away from me.
“I lost my parents, too,” I said, trying to empathize with her. “Not … like that. It was expected, but I miss them. Every day.”
