Page 20 of Devlin

Devlin hesitated when they reached the guest quarters, then said, “I promise I won’t push you to talk anymore tonight. But let me walk you to your room. Please.”

Mia looked as though she might argue, but then she sighed and inclined her head.

They walked side by side, the silence hanging like a heavy weight between them. When they reached her container apartment, she turned to face him. “This is me.”

He nodded toward the structure. “Ritah mentioned there are staff showers. Will you be safe?”

Mia scoffed, the sound soft but tinged with exasperation. “I’m not inviting you to see for yourself.” Her lips pressed together as though she wanted to say more but had to stop herself from speaking. Inhaling deeply, she finally said, “I’m fine. Plenty of people are around. I’m in no danger.”

He waited as she unlocked her door and stepped inside. Just before it clicked shut, he thought he heard her whisper, “Good night, Jim.”

His chest tightened, his heart swelling. For a long time, he just stood there, staring at the closed door. And for the first time in ten years, he realized he hadn’t even begun to atone.

Turning, he walked back down the lane, his voice low as he whispered to the breeze, “Good night, my Mia.”

When he returned to the guest quarters, he found Cole and Todd studying the maps of the whole camp as well as the villages. He immediately sat down with them, looking over the information.

“We need to drive the perimeter tomorrow,” Cole said. “Look for the other roads and entrances here where a truck could leave. Check out what security is at those checkpoints.”

Devlin was grateful for the distraction. His focus needed to remain sharp on the mission, but now the mission had expanded. It wasn’t just about protecting the camp—it was about proving to Mia, step by step, that he was still the man who would do anything for her.

9

Mia pressed her back against the cool metal of the door, her breath catching as she tried to make sense of the storm swirling inside her. The day had been a relentless assault on her emotions, each one clawing for dominance—anger, confusion, and a flicker of something she didn’t want to name. She felt like a dam ready to break.

Jim Devlin. Seeing him again had been like ripping open an old wound, one she thought had long since scarred over. When he asked to talk, the words she’d buried for years nearly spilled out.Go to hell.She wanted to say it. She wanted to scream it. But the haunted and pleading look in his eyes had stolen her voice, leaving her standing there, clutching at the tattered remains of her resolve.

He’d blown them apart once, wielding their love like a stick of dynamite. Yet there was still a painful, aching pull she couldn’t ignore. It infuriated her.

A bitter snort escaped her lips as she leaned her head back, staring at the ceiling as if the answers might be written there. What could he possibly say to make any of this better? The scars he’d left behind weren’t the kind that words could heal.

And as he had walked away, she’d heard the faint crunch of gravel through the open window next to her. Then his voice drifted through the night air, soft as a prayer. “Good night, my Mia.”

The breath in her lungs stilled.My Mia.The endearment hit her like a whisper from the past, an echo of a memory she thought she’d locked away forever.

The first time he’d called her that was at the high school junior dance. She could still feel the way his arms held her close, the warmth of his gaze as their bodies swayed in perfect rhythm. He’d kissed her then—tentative, tender, as though he was afraid to break the moment. When he pulled back, his lips hovered over hers, and he’d whispered, “My Mia.” Those two words had been a vow, a promise, and for years, she’d believed it with everything she had.

Hearing it now, after all this time, after all the pain... it unraveled her. She lost all sense of time until a sharp knock on the door yanked her from the spiral of memory. She straightened, her heart thudding as she wondered if it was Devlin again. Her fingers hesitated on the doorknob, torn between the desire to send him away and the reckless urge to confront him.

But when she opened the door, it wasn’t Devlin standing there. It was Elizabeth, holding a bottle of wine, flanked by Ritah, Prossy, Karen, and Doreen, their faces alight with curiosity and concern.

“What’s going on?” Mia asked, blinking at them in surprise.

Elizabeth raised the bottle with a sly grin. “Ritah spilled the beans about the handsome man who was asking about you. Now, you need to tell us who he is. And if you say no, we’re bribing you with this.” She shook the bottle, adding with a sheepish smile, “Okay, it’s not the best wine, and it’s already been opened. But I figured it was worth a shot.”

For a moment, Mia wanted to shut them out, to bury everything deep where it couldn’t hurt her anymore. The story of her and Devlin wasn’t something she shared lightly—it was too raw, too personal. But as she looked at their eager faces, something inside her softened. These women had seen her at her strongest, but maybe it was time to show them her scars, too.

“Come in,” she said, stepping back to let them pass. “But if you want the full story, it’s a good thing I have another bottle.”

As they settled into her small space, the women lounged beside each other on the bed, legs stretched out with their backs against the wall. Mia perched on the chair after she grabbed a few plastic cups from the shelf. The wine was poured, and five pairs of eyes fixed on her, patient but expectant. For the first time in years, Mia felt the tiniest crack in the wall she’d built around herself.

She took a deep breath, swirling the wine in her cup. “Okay,” she said softly. “Here’s how it started... and how it ended.”

Mia let her gaze sweep over her friends, marveling at how different yet perfectly they fit together. Ritah and Doreen, both Ugandan, exuded quiet strength. Ritah, poised and confident, was a natural leader in her department, while Doreen’s shyness masked a deeply compassionate heart. Karen, the head nurse with a fiery Irish temperament, was the steady anchor of Doc Elaine’s team. Her humor kept everyone grounded. Then there was Elizabeth, the sharp-witted American, heading the Economic and Livelihood Program with her husband. And Prossy, a brilliant and tireless South Sudanese teacher who worked in the children’s education centers. These women represented the best of humanity, a rare and beautiful gathering of resilience, humor, and heart.

Mia hesitated for a moment, the weight of her story pressing against her ribs. But then she smiled softly. For the first time inyears, she felt ready to let someone else carry a piece of it with her.

“I was fifteen years old when I first met Jim Devlin,” she began, her voice steady but tinged with nostalgia.

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