Page 61 of Devlin

“I hate to see you tired,” he murmured. “You give a hundred percent every day, Mia. But everyone has a breaking point. I don’t want this job to break you.”

She nodded, but a small, self-deprecating snort escaped. “I’m proud of what I’ve done. I care about the people I help—the ones who have fled their homes, escaping war, famine, regimes that want to crush them. Yet it feels wrong to want to go home, where I’m safe, fed, where I can shop in a market without worrying about the water making me sick.”

Devlin met her gaze. “Do you know any refugee camp workers who never take a break?”

Her brows drew together as she considered the question, then slowly shook her head. “No. You’re right. Everyone does.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Maybe your break will be longer than just a month. Maybe that’s what you want—what you need. But you’re afraid of letting someone down. Margarethe, Dr. München… the refugees.” Hisvoice softened. “But Mia, sometimes life takes us in different directions.”

She looked up at him, her eyes searching his. “You did that, didn’t you?” Her voice was soft, but he detected a sliver of need as she continued. “A Marine, a SEAL, working on a reservation, now working for a private security company.”

He exhaled, nodding encouragingly. “Yeah. That’s exactly right.”

Reaching for her hand, he gently pried her fingers apart, linking them with his own. His thumb traced slow circles against her skin, and he felt the subtle shift in her posture in the way her body relaxed slightly.

“So,” he prompted, squeezing her hand gently, “tell me about some of the jobs you’ve thought about taking.”

She hesitated, her eyes flickering with something unreadable. “Well… if I stay with WFP but want to be based in the US, they have an office in Washington, DC.” A pause, then a small grimace. “But I really don’t want to live there.”

Her voice trailed off as she dropped her gaze again, scanning the room as if looking anywhere but at him.

Devlin watched her, his grip on her hand steady. Something was weighing on her. He could see it in the way her shoulders held tension and her fingers fidgeted against her lap. He had a feeling there was more to say—something she wasn’t quite ready to voice.

“Mia, what’s going on?” His voice was gentle but firm. “And don’t try to tell me there’s nothing on your mind.”

She exhaled slowly, her fingers tightening around his. “It’s just something else I’ve considered doing, but I don’t want you to think it’s a new plan.”

He narrowed his gaze, giving her hands a reassuring squeeze, not understanding what she was saying. “What do you mean, a new plan?”

Mia hesitated, her expression unreadable. “We’ve only been in each other’s presence for a few days. I don’t want you to think I made a big decision just because we reconnected after so many years. It’s just that… I know the timing seems suspect. But it’s not.”

“You’re doing a good job of beating around the bush, Mia, but I’m not getting what you’re trying to tell me. Come on, honey. You’ve always been direct.”

She inhaled deeply, then grimaced. “Oh hell, let me just show you.”

She slipped her hands from his and stood, crossing the room to her desk. Devlin leaned forward, watching as she flipped open her laptop, her fingers moving quickly over the keys. After a moment, she clicked on her email. Twisting slightly to glance at him, she said, “Before you read this, just… take note of the date. It was sent almost four months ago.”

Brows furrowed, Devlin stood and stepped behind her. Resting his hands on her shoulders, he leaned down, scanning the open email.

The words blurred for a moment before sharpening into focus. Feeding America – Tribal Communities Initiative. They were offering her a position working to combat food insecurity in tribal areas.

His lungs expelled air in a rush. He barely had time to absorb it before Mia clicked on another message.

“There’s another one from three months ago,” she murmured, opening a second email. “The name of the organization is a bit antiquated, but their work is good.”

This one was from the Food Distribution Program on Indian Reservations, offering her a role in food assistance, distribution, and nutritional education. Devlin’s pulse pounded in his ears as he moved around to kneel beside her chair, placing his hands gently over hers. “Why are you afraid of me knowing this?”

Mia didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she stared at the screen, her lips slightly parted, as if choosing her words carefully. Finally, she exhaled and spoke, her voice quiet but steady.

“Before we reconnected, I had already come to a place in my life where I realized that I’ve had incredible worldwide opportunities. Work, life experiences… I’ve participated in things I probably never would have done if we’d stayed together.” Her voice caught slightly, and she winced as if the words caused her pain. “Maybe it’s serendipity that we found each other again on the other side of the world. We’ve even said that maybe it was part of our life plan to spend these years apart, learn, grow, and become who we are now.”

He nodded slowly, absorbing her words with caution. He understood what she was saying. But that didn’t make it any easier to know that he had been the reason for her pain.

She gestured toward the laptop. “I’ve been considering these positions for a while. I want to be back in the States. I want to take my knowledge and experience and use it to help people at home. I’ve been in contact with both organizations and even some tribal health departments as a nutritionist.”

Devlin stood and pulled her to her feet, wrapping his arms securely around her. She wasn’t telling him everything. He could feel it. Something still lingered in the space between them, something that made her hesitate. And he hated that he couldn’t immediately read her thoughts the way he once could. He had to relearn her, rediscover the parts of her that had changed.

Brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, he murmured, “Something about this is still bothering you, and I can’t figure out what it is. So, for our sake—just tell me. What are you afraid of?”

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