Page 63 of Don't Let Me Go (Don't Let Me 2)

“Ah, so you’re gonna take the sarcastic way out, eh?” She bounces her eyebrows up and down. “I approve.”

“Oh, you do?”

“Yeah.” She laughs, though it’s laced with sadness. “How do you think I survive every single day of my life, Blake?”

I hesitate, my attention bouncing around her gorgeous face as I take her in. Really take her in. The soft bags under her eyes are covered by day-old makeup. Her half-smile is fake at best. She looks like she’s unraveling. Burning the candle at both ends. Like she’s being torn in two, and I had no idea. Okay, I did know, but it’s Mia. She never lets anyone get close. Not to her. Sure, she’s managed to wiggle under my own protective barriers, but hers? They’re stronger than ever, and it’s going to take a special kind of person to scale those walls.

Doesn’t make me any less of a shitty friend, though.

“How are you, Mia?” I ask.

I’m so used to her being my own personal sounding board, I sometimes forget how well she hides her own problems from the world. And boy, does she have her own problems. From a murdered, drug-addicted father, to an abusive ex, to money issues out the nose she refuses to let her famous uncle help her with. It’s one thing after another, and I hate how I’ve been too self-absorbed to notice.

But it’s what Mia does.

She keeps people at arm’s length, somehow managing to be reliable while refusing any alliance when the tables are turned. Honestly, she’s a ninja, dodging emotional help while delivering blows to anyone who dares to hurt the people she loves. If only she’d let us return the favor.

“I’m fine,” she answers. “Let’s get to bed.”

“Mia…”

“Seriously. I’m fine,” she says, avoiding my gaze.

“You know, for someone who likes to help others, you sure do like to keep your friends at arm’s length.”

“Speaking of friends who like to help,” she deflects seamlessly. “My Uncle Fen’s band is sponsoring a new program for little kids.”

My forehead wrinkles. “Huh?”

“It’s really cool. They want to do weekly activities for children who come from not-so-great homes. Obviously, he has enough connections to keep the musical activities under control, but he was looking for someone to volunteer on the physical side. Teaching kids how to shoot a basketball, hit a baseball, serve a volleyball, maybe even set up some mock scrimmages. That kind of thing. I thought you might be interested.”

“In teaching kids how to play sports?”

“Yeah. Since you’re always dragging me to the gym and making me want to puke my guts out from pushing me so hard, yet still have the energy of a five-year-old hopped up on sugar afterward, I thought it might be a good fit. What do you think?”

The idea sounds like an absolute blast. Part of me always wanted to get into coaching, but the pay is shit unless you have an MVP under your belt, and since my knee exploded in high school, I didn’t exactly hit the milestone before my career was obliterated.

“And it’s a volunteer position?” I ask, though I don’t know why. It’s not like I can help. I’m hella busy as it is. Adding something else to my plate? Well, I’ve never been the brightest crayon in the box.

“Yes and no,” Mia answers. “There’s a full-time position available with a pretty decent salary, but like I said, it’s full-time, and a shit ton of work. Basically, they’d be the head of organizing all the activities as well as some hands-on stuff, but we need volunteers too.”

“Where did this even come from? I didn’t know your uncle was into philanthropy.”

She rolls her eyes. “After the whole, my-ex-is-abusive-and-is-stalking-me debacle earlier this year, Fender decided to start the organization in hopes of keeping me preoccupied. Not that I needed it. Between waitressing at SeaBird and school, my hands are plenty full, but I think he wanted another avenue for keeping an eye on me. Not that he isn’t already friends with everyone at SeaBird, but…I think finding out about Shorty freaked him out, ya know?”

Uh, yeah. I would say so. Most of it happened before I moved in, but I’ve heard the stories. Saw the faint bruises from the aftermath. She’d been dating an asshole hockey player named Shorty. When she broke up with him, he didn’t like it and started stalking her. Coming to SeaBird to talk to her. Trying to convince her to give him another chance. He even grabbed her at work in front of Colt. When he saw this, Colt intervened and pretended to date Mia, using himself and their fake relationship to keep her safe. And it worked…for a while. Until he refused to hide his real relationship with Ash any longer. Then Mia came clean. To everyone. Including her uncle and aunt. Still, it must’ve freaked her uncle out. And I don’t blame him at all for trying to find a solution. A way to keep a closer eye on her and make sure she’s taken care of.

“I get it,” I reply. “I’m surprised he decided to create a charity organization, though.”

“With my past and less-than-amazing childhood, I think he hoped I could connect with some of the kids who might be in similar situations to what I grew up in. You know, heal and all that shit.”

I laugh and bump my shoulder against hers on the couch. “I think it’s really cool, Mia.”

She shrugs, looking sheepish. “Might as well put the trauma of your father being murdered to good use, right?”

Amused by her dark humor while blown away over how she's a fully functioning adult after her messy past, I say, “I guess so.”

“Which means you might as well put your trauma”––she pats my knee––“to good use, too. Am I right?”

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