Page 65 of Don't Let Me Fall (Don't Let Me 1)

When she catches me staring, she asks, “You sure you’re okay?”

“He was an asshole who was cheating on me, so yeah. I’m fine.” I lift my chin toward her breakfast. “Do you want any syrup?”

“Too messy. Besides, if you’re sure you’re all right and don’t want to give me all the gory details yet…” She pauses and waits for my reply.

“Maybe later.”

“Then, I gotta get to class,” she finishes. “But you should text me if you want to talk. I know I overpacked my schedule this semester, and things are crazy, but I’ll always make time for you guys, okay?”

With a nod, I pull her into a quick hug and shove her toward the door. “Ditto. Now, get out of here. We’ll talk later.”

As the door closes behind her, I check the time on my phone and tap the corner of it against my chin. Part of me wonders if I should let Mia sleep, but the other part is too anxious to care.

After piling up a stack of French toast, eggs, and bacon onto a plate, I open her bedroom door without bothering to knock.

“Rise and shine, Mia,” I say, though I’m not brutal enough to flick the lights on.

The lump on her mattress groans as Mia’s head pops out above the mess of sheets. “What time is it?”

“Nine a.m.”

“What?” she screeches, fumbling with her eye mask until she can see me. “Nine in the morning? Did someone die?”

I laugh and sit down on the edge of her bed. “No. No one died.”

But someone might if they don’t spill the beans soon.

“So, why are you waking me up so freaking early?” She opens one eye. “And do I smell bacon?”

With another laugh, I take one of the three strips on the breakfast tray and put it in my mouth, letting the salty goodness roll over my taste buds, humming, “Mm-hmm.”

She pushes herself up, rests her back against the headboard, and reaches for the tray, resting it on her lap. “Now this is how you wake a friend up.” Another piece of bacon disappears from the tray as she shoves it into her mouth and licks her fingertips. “So good.”

“Glad I could be of service.”

“Now, if you could tell me why you made bacon and woke me up before noon when I don’t have any classes, that’d be great,” she quips, slicing off a bite of French toast soaking in syrup with her fork and knife.

“What’s going on between you and Colt?”

She stops mid-chew, her gaze darting over to me. She sets her fork and knife back on the tray while looking guilty as hell.

“Why do you ask?” she questions.

“Because I want to know.”

“There’s not much to tell.”

“Mia,” I warn.

“Fine. We’re dating. Nothing too serious or anything, but yeah.”

“And you and Shorty?” I prod.

Like a scared little girl, she fidgets with the napkin, twisting it between her fingers until I’m pretty sure only tiny shreds will be left if I don’t take it from her soon.

“Tell me,” I push, grabbing the napkin and tossing it onto the tray.

“Nothing’s going on between me and Shorty. We broke up. I started dating Colt. End of story.”

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