“Of course. And again, I’m sorry to interfere—”

“Please. You’re not interfering, Judith. Besides, you can’t compare to Jared and Cash. They’ve made it their personal mission to make sure I’m okay. I’m like their adopted younger sister or something.”

Judith laughed.

Mia smiled. Cash had shown up, armed with jokes, and Jared had tried to act like a hard ass. He failed each time.

“I was surprised to see you and not one of them. The guys keep popping in. No idea how they’re getting on base.”

“They can get anywhere. That I’ve learned.” She gave a pause, possibly thinking what Mia thought. If they can get on base, Colby could’ve done the same. “Those boys. They’re like a nuclear, adrenaline-junkie, gun-toting family. Blowing stuff up and drinking beers together. They think I don’t know what all they do. But I know. And I’m proud of them.”

“Me, too.” With each passing moment, she missed him more and more.

“If he ever comes around, tail between his legs, I hope you’ll give him a second chance. That is, if you think he deserves it. I’ll see myself out. Take care, Mia.”

Clara reached her chubby fingers to Mia and called out gibberish again, sweet and innocent, as Judith walked them away.

Mia plopped into her chair, spun in mindless circles, and drifted to a stop. She shuffled papers and tried to ignore the jewelry-sized box under her desk. It beckoned to her, screaming for attention. She wheeled away from the desk and bent down to wrap her fingers around it, wishing she could crush it.

Everything happened for a reason. If nothing else, she now understood how family was supposed to feel. She deserved it. The deluxe package. A husband, kids, and a happily ever after.

She fingered the brown leather box and listened to the muffled rattle as she flipped it over again and again in her hand. Mia shut her eyes and pulled the top off, dumping the contents into her palm. Metal shards. Disfigured, corkscrewed, and hooked. Shrapnel.

For whatever the reason, Jared brought her the box with the metal fragments from Colby’s shoulder. It should have been gross, but it wasn’t. It served as a brutal reminder of the way Colby protected her from gunfire and explosions. That Colby would rather have died fighting than let her go down under his watch. But did he know losing him this way was just as terrible?

She tossed the box toward the trash can. The box bounced off the wall, remaining shut, and jumped to a dark corner under her couch, where it could stay.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Winters’s cell phone buzzed across the table, moving closer and closer to the edge. It was a cliff over the hardwood floor, and he’d let it careen off without hesitation. If it shattered, he’d have an excuse for not answering.