Page 93 of The Assist
Her lips twitch. “You’re a menace.”
“I’m in love,” I say, so quietly it barely comes out. I’ve never said those words before. They’ve been on the tip of my tongue for days, and I can’t hold them back any longer.
Her breath catches. She doesn’t say it back. Not yet. But her hand finds mine and squeezes tight.
And I don’t need words to know what that means.
Later,I pass Murphy in the hallway and linger near the exit.
“She’s leaving to go home for a few days. Some family thing.” I say casually, even though nothing about this feels casual.
“Yeah,” Murphy says, arms folded across his chest. “Does she need anything? I mean can I help, she’s one of the good ones and if she’s hurting, I want to help.”
“She’s not one to ask for help,” I say.
“She shouldn’t have to.”
There’s a second of silence between us.
“I want to go with her,” I admit.
Murphy’s eyebrows rise. “Does she want you to?”
“She says no. But I’m not sure that’s the truth.”
Murphy claps a hand on my shoulder. “If you care about her, and I can tell you do, give her space. Let her come back to you.”
“I just…” I scrub a hand through my hair. “What if she doesn’t?”
“She will.”
And somehow, I trust him.
After warmups, the crowd’s already filling the rink, and I spot Mia near the bench, clipboard in hand, headset on. She looks calm, and focused, the consummate pro.
But when I skate by, she glances up. And that look, that soft flicker of something that belongs only to me, it settles the storm in my chest.
For now. Because I know what I have to do. I have to let her go and trust she’ll come back.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
MIA
Islow the car to a crawl as I pull into the cul-de-sac I grew up on, the tyres crunching over loose gravel. The house looks the same, down to the faded blue door and the worn welcome mat Mum refuses to replace becauseit’s not that bad, Mia.
Everything feels the same, but yet nothing is. It’s weird and disorientating.
I haul my bag out onto the curb and take a second to steel myself before heading up the path. It’s not just the appointment looming tomorrow, it’s the tone in Mum’s voice when she called. Tired. Frayed. Like she’s been holding up the sky on her own for too long.
The door flies open before I even knock.
“Mia!” Mum pulls me into a hug so tight I can barely breathe, and for once, I don't complain.
“Hi, Mum,” I whisper into her shoulder.
Behind her, Ben leans against the doorframe, arms folded, his trademark easy grin a little tighter than usual. “You made it, Squirt.”
“Don’t call me that,” I mutter, dragging my bag inside.
