Page 86 of The Only Heart that Matters

“I’m really glad you're alive.” It’s true. Losing Chris was the worst thing I’ve ever gone through. I cannot imagine if we had lost Angus, too.

This brings his gaze back up to me. He doesn’t speak, but there’s an unspoken question in his eyes that I don’t know how to answer.

The man is breaking my heart.

“You deserve good things, Angus. You deserve gratitude from those who are grateful for what you’ve done and for just being in their lives. I bet people could learn a lot from you.”

“I’m no teacher.”

His tone is somber. Maybe the compliment route isn’t the way to go.

“What kind of offers have you gotten?”

“Speaking engagements. Book deals. Podcasts.” He shrugs.

“Wow, my roomie’s a hot commodity.”

I reach out with my foot to nudge his leg and he grabs it. Before I know it, he’s giving me a glorious food rub. My instinct is to pull away, because he’s the one who deserves the pampering, but it seems to relax him, keeping him busy while he shares a part of him we’ve never talked about.

“I wouldn’t go that far, but there have been some quite lucrative offers over the years. It just doesn’t seem right to profit off the worst day of my life, you know?”

“I get it.”

“I’d do anything for those I care about and those I served with were my family. It’s what you do.”

He doesn’t mention Chris. He doesn’t have to. It’s too hard for him. They may not have been brothers by blood, but they were brothers, nonetheless.

“Kind of like what you’re doing for me and Sawyer. Giving us a place to live and pretending to be my husband.”

“When are you gonna realize I’d do anything for you?”

“Because we’re family?”

Where the hell am I going with this?

“If that’s what you need to tell yourself.”

His mood seems to shift as we watch each other. One of his hands slides up my calf. My body heats from his touch along with the implications of his reply. Before his hands can slide any further, I pull my leg away, tucking it under me.

Say something, Mia.

Say something!

As if throwing me a lifeline, Sawyer cries. I bolt to my feet at the same time Angus does. Both of us grasping the flotation device.

“Goodnight,” he says, sounding frustrated as he walks out of the room.

I follow, stopping at Sawyer’s door. Angus saunters to the spare bedroom he insists on sleeping in. He doesn’t look back at me before he closes the door.

How did I get myself into this mess?

Chapter Thirty-One

Angus

“So, how are things going at the house with Mia and Sawyer?” Dr. Laughlin asks during my weekly online therapy appointment.

When I first sought help, I didn’t mesh with any of the local therapists. I tried I really did. I met with one psychiatrist and two psychologists in Bend, but none of them were a good fit.

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