Page 35 of Devlin

“Mia, my dear, you will do what you do every day. Help those you can with what you have. Sometimes that's all we can hope for.”

After standing, she leaned over to shake Dr. München's hand, then turned and did the same with Devlin, Cole, and Todd. Finally, she pulled Mia into a heartfelt hug, rubbing her back gently.

Just as Mia thought the woman would pull away, Margarethe whispered, “The heart has an amazing capacity to heal from past hurts. It keeps on beating, evidence of life all around us. But we have to be willing to take that chance of finding happiness again.”

Before Mia had a chance to respond, the woman tightened her arms, then let go. And with a wave to all, she walked out of the room, leaving Mia staring in her wake.

Hours later, she’d made it to the end of the day without seeing Devlin again. He and his coworkers had gone off to places unknown, which was fine by her. She needed to concentrate on taking care of her job without worrying about anything else. Of course, her peace was short-lived as thoughts of him crept through her mind continually.

She was almost grateful when a truck broke down just outside the warehouse, and they all had to pitch in to unload the food, carrying it the last fifty feet into the food center. Several of the men tried to stop her and the volunteers who were around. She laughed them off. “I’m not afraid to get my hands dirty, and I can certainly carry a few boxes,” she argued.

Ugandan women worked hard, so she could only imagine the driver was uncomfortable with the idea of a white woman assisting or that it was her position in the camp that made him uneasy. But with everyone pitching in, the truck was soonemptied. She walked over to the truck one last time to find the drivers as they stood in the back of the cargo trailer. “Thank you!” she called out.

The two men rushed forward, nodding and bowing. “Thank you, ma’am. We are getting someone to come get the truck started or towed.”

“It’s okay,” she said. “You’re not in the way of the other trucks coming.” With that, she headed inside to find Farid. “I’m leaving, but I also don’t want you to stay late tonight.”

“Don’t worry about me. You look like you’ve had a hard day, Mia. Go home and take care of yourself.”

She managed a smile, but her stomach clenched at the thought of her evening. Offering a wave, she walked down the dusty lane to the housing area. Deciding to at least take care of her shower first, she grabbed what she needed and went to the women’s showers closest to her room. Five minutes. Not long for hot water but another quick scrub and shampoo, and she was dressed and walked back to her room.

Looking up, she spied Devlin standing at her door, two trays of food in his hands, and she froze.

Of course, he’d show up now.The timing sucked when she was exhausted, raw, and barely holding herself together after the day’s chaos. Her defenses were already worn thin, and now he stood there like some kind of penitent offering, holding food as if that could erase ten years of silence.

Her chest tightened, but she forced a small, detached smile, nodding toward the trays. “You must be hungry enough for two dinners.”

Devlin’s expression was cautious, like he wasn’t sure if she was joking or ready to slam the door in his face. But he managed a small smile, his voice quiet yet sure. “I figured after the day you had, you’d probably appreciate somebody bringing food to you.”

A surprised chuckle slipped out before she could stop it, but it carried more disbelief than amusement. “I haven’t had someone bring me food in… hell, I can’t even remember.”

He took another step closer, his presence filling the small space between them. “Then I’m glad I’m the first.”

The words hit like a slow, burning ache, seeping into places she thought were long healed. Her breath caught. She was trapped in his gaze, the air around them thick, charged. Memories surfaced—ones she’d long tried to suppress, ones that made her chest ache with longing, and something far more dangerous. Before she could stop herself, the words tumbled out, unbidden. “You were all of my firsts, Jim Devlin.”

The second she said it, she wanted to snatch it back. She felt exposed. Too much of herself laid bare. But there was no point in pretending. He already knew. He knew exactly what he’d meant to her—how much of herself she’d given to him, blindly, completely.

Her chin lifted, forcing herself to meet his gaze. “I’m not sure why I should even let you in.”

There was something solemn in his eyes. “If you don’t, I’ll sleep on your stoop.”

She narrowed her gaze. “You’d do it, too, wouldn’t you?”

“Damn straight.”

She shouldn’t have doubted him. The Jim she remembered had always been quietly tenacious. The weight of his gaze never left hers. The stubborn set of his jaw and the quiet conviction in his voice should’ve irritated her. Instead, it twisted something deep inside, something too dangerously close to hope. And she couldn’t afford that.

Finally, she huffed, turning toward the door and unlocking it. Throwing it open with more force than necessary, she growled. "Come on in. I’m hungry and tired, but we might as well get this over with."

The door clicked shut behind them as they stepped inside, the sound oddly final. Mia motioned to the small desk in the corner. "You can set the food there. I have a couple of water bottles in my fridge."

She pulled out two bottles and handed one to him before picking up the tray with the least amount of food. Without a word, she walked over to her bed and settled in. Devlin took the chair across from her, his movements slow and deliberate. But his eyes never stopped watching her. As if he were studying her, searching for something she wasn’t ready to give.

For a few moments, neither spoke as they ate. The meal was simple—beans, rice, and makati with bread and fresh mangoes. The silence between them was tense, pressing in all around them. She hated that he could still make her feel so many things she didn’t want to feel.

When she finished, she handed him her empty tray, and he stacked them together on the edge of her desk before turning his chair to face her completely. Mia reached for the thin blanket folded at the foot of her bed and wrapped it around her shoulders. It was a flimsy and useless barrier, but it was something. His gaze was too intense, and she was terrified of whatever words he thought he needed to say. She folded her arms tightly, bracing herself, her pulse hammering against her ribs.

He broke me once before. There’s nothing else he can say that will break me again.With that thought, she lifted her chin, bracing herself. "Okay. You’re here to talk. Go for it." Now, she just hoped her heart would still be intact by the time he finished.

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