Page 19 of Devious Love
“Because not everyone gets to go pro.”
“Yeah, but you have a chance.” She shrugs. “If you ever tell Matthew I said this, I swear, I’ll stab you in your sleep, but between the two of you, you have the higher chance. He’s good but notthatgood.”
Warmth spreads through my body, sending my heart galloping. I smile, tipping my head to the side. “I didn’t think you were paying attention.”
With a roll of her eyes, she props her hip against the counter and takes a deep breath.
For a moment, all she does is study me, but I can see her brain working. From the way she keeps pursing her lips, she’s got something to say.
“Can I ask you something?” she finally asks.
“Sure.”
“Will you look after Matt?” she asks cryptically. “He tends to get lost in what he’s doing. Sometimes, he even forgets to eat. He needs someone to remind him to take a deep breath and take it easy now and then.”
Unease sparks in my chest. What the fuck is she talking about? “Do you mean after we leave for college?”
“Now and in college.”
On instinct, I step toward her, hovering over her small frame. “What do you mean?”
“Just what I said. I asked you to look after Matt.” Her eyes dart away, her mouth twisting to one side.
I duck my head so she’s forced to look at me. “What do you mean, Mia?”
“I asked Dad to take me with him,” she whispers.
I search her face, my chest tightening. “You want to live with your dad? In Phoenix?”
She nods.
“Does your mom know? Matt hasn’t mentioned it.”
“No, neither of them do. Only Dad. And now you, I guess. He’ll be here on Saturday, and he’ll talk to Mom and your dad when they get back from Vegas on Sunday.”
I take a step back, stunned. “I don’t think Monica will let you?—”
“I don’t care!” she snaps. “I miss my dad all the time, and…” Her voice is trembling now. “I’m not happy here.”
The tight sensation in my chest is now a full-on sharp pain. Shit. I wrap an arm around her shoulders and pull her to me. Her body shudders violently as she hides her face in my chest and winds her hands around my torso.
I hate when girls cry—not because I don’t understand their emotions, but because I don’t know what to do, how to help. But now, standing in the kitchen with Mia, all I want is to hold her, to let her cry until she feels better.
“You should talk to Matt,” I tell her, resting my chin on top of her head. “He’ll help you convince your mom.”
“H-he will b-be ups-set,” she sobs.
“So what?” I squeeze a little tighter. “He loves you more than anything, and he wants what’s best for you. Explain to him why you need to do this, and he’ll understand.”
She pulls back, her eyes shining with tears in the moonlight. Her lips are puffy, her cheeks stained with red spots. Mia never cries, so there’s a light, floaty feeling in my chest mixing with this instinct to fix shit for her, to make it all better.
I smile down at her. “If you want, I can help you talk to him.”
Mia shakes her head.
“Why not?” I scowl, trying not to be offended by the rejection.
She chuckles. “He’ll be upset if he knows I told you first.” She bites her bottom lip, eyeing me warily. “Please don’t tell him about this conversation, okay?”
