Page 133 of The Assist
My stomach drops. “Who?”
He jerks his head toward the hallway and smirks. “Go see for yourself.”
I pull on joggers and a hoodie, barely towelling off my hair, and push through the door.
She’s standing right there. She looks tiny, fragile even, with her hair pulled back in that no-nonsense ponytail, her eyes rimmed with exhaustion but shining with somethingelse, something that glints like determination. She’s got a folder in one hand and a slight, apologetic smile on her lips.
And standing beside her is a tall guy in a charcoal coat and polished shoes. He’s got the kind of stance you see in courtroom dramas; shoulders squared, expression unreadable, eyes sharp enough to cut through lies. He sizes me up like he’s already reading my psychological profile.
I stop in my tracks.
Mia’s gaze softens. “Hey.”
“Hey,” I croak, and then I’m moving before I even think about it.
She meets me halfway; there’s no dramatic hug. No kiss. Just her hand finding mine.
“I keep reading your message,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper.
“And?”
“And I keep crying through most of it,” she admits. “I read it to Sophie, sorry. Then I printed it out and stuck it in the folder with everything else that matters.”
I nod, my throat tight. “You left.”
“I needed to think. But I’m back now.”
I glance at the man beside her.
“This is Ben,” she adds. “My brother. And my lawyer. Our lawyer. He wrote the letter we’re taking to Mike.”
Ben holds out his hand. “So. You’re Dylan Winters.”
I shake it firmly. But I offer no smile.
“I’m not gonna do the older brother ‘hurt-her-and-I’ll-end-you’ speech,” he says. “Mostly because I assume you already know how bad it would look if you messed this up.”
My heart stutters. “I’m not planning on messing anything up.”
He studies me. “Good answer.”
Mia squeezes my hand again. “We wanted to see you first. Before the meeting.”
I step closer. “You sure you’re ready for this?”
She looks up at me, all steel and fire and the kind of quiet bravery that takes my breath away. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”
Ben clears his throat. “I’ll give you two a minute. Just don’t elope while I’m gone.”
He heads down the corridor, and I reach up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.
“You look tired,” I murmur.
She shrugs. “I haven’t slept much. Being in love is exhausting.”
My breath catches. She said it like it’s not a bomb. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
“I love you so much,” I say. “You know that, right?”
