Page 65 of Devlin

“Mia, honey, I don’t think I’m a Neanderthal. But there are some things men just understand from other men. This is one of them. Do you trust me?”

“Of course, I trust you, but it’s just?—”

“No. Simple answer. Do you trust me?”

She swallowed, taking a deep breath before slowly nodding. “Yes. I do.”

“That’s all I need to know, sweetheart.”

She held his gaze, searching his expression without speaking for a long moment. Emotions crashed inside her, threatening to steal the newfound joy she’d experienced. Finally, she lifted a brow, giving a pointed look. “Do you understand what it means when I sayI trust you?”

Now it was his turn to hesitate, his eyes locked on hers. Slowly, he nodded. “Yes. You trusted me once before, and I broke that trust. I’m not that man anymore. No matter what, I promise I will never break your trust again.”

Seeing only sincerity in his eyes, she nodded slowly. Her lips curved, but before she could fully smile, his mouth was on hers again, claiming, devouring, reminding her that this was real. They had been given a second chance. And she wasn’t going to waste a single moment.

The warehouse was alive with motion. Large semitrucks rumbled in and out, their air brakes hissing as drivers maneuvered them into position. Smaller delivery trucks weaved through the organized commotion, picking up their designated shipments. Stacks of food crates lined the loading docks, workers moving like clockwork to keep everything flowing smoothly. The organized chaos of loading and unloading, the hum of engines, the clang of crates, and the chatter of workers created a steady cacophony that Mia usually found invigorating. Today, she focused on the conversation she had shared with Devlin—the idea of returning to the States and accepting a new job.

In his arms, thoughts of working closer to him felt right. Now, she wondered if she was jumping too soon. She didn’t want to doubt him or their second chance, but they had only reunited less than a week ago.

Mia wiped the back of her hand across her forehead, pushing a few strands of hair away from her face. The heat of the morning sun mixed with the physical labor, leaving her damp with sweat.

She frowned, narrowing her eyes at the semi being unloaded in front of her. Something didn’t look right. She took a few steps closer, her head tilting slightly. The inside of the container wasn’t as deep as the exterior length suggested. A subtle difference, but from the angle she was looking, it was enough to catch her attention. Just like before when she’d noticed a difference.

“Huh, that’s weird.” She squinted, taking a step back, then forward again, as if a different angle would make sense of what she was seeing.

“You finally hitting that age where your eyes are playing tricks on you? Should I start calling you Grandma Mia?”

She took a deep breath and turned just in time to see Charlie riding by on his bicycle, his wiry frame hunched over the handlebars. He lifted both hands in the air as he continued to pedal, remaining upright as he dodged trucks.

“You're gonna get killed on that thing one day,” Mia called out, concern knitting her brow.

Charlie slowed his pace, grinning as he balanced precariously on the pedals. “Nah, I’m too talented!”

Mia laughed, shaking her head. “Are you heading to work or just showing off your two-wheeled deathtrap?”

“Bit of both.” Charlie shrugged, kicking a foot to the ground to steady himself. “You staying out of trouble?”

Mia huffed, glancing around at the whirlwind of activity. “I don't have time for trouble.”

Charlie chuckled, but his gaze shifted over Mia’s shoulder. “What had your attention?”

“The inside of the truck doesn’t look as deep as the outside.”

Charlie looked over her shoulder and scoffed. “Optical illusion, kiddo! Either that or you do have granny eyes!”

Mia shot him a dry look. “So what am I? A kiddo or a granny?”

“A real beauty!”

She rolled her eyes and waved as Charlie gave a mock salute and pedaled off, disappearing into the mayhem of the warehouse yard. Mia turned back toward the semi, her unease lingering, but there was no time to dwell on it. Work needed to be done.

Thirty minutes later, Mia was in the middle of helping sort another shipment when Enock drove up in a security Jeep. As usual, he offered his ready smile, but it was tinged with concern. “Mia,” he called, drawing her attention away from the crates she was inventorying.

She wiped her hands on her cargo pants and looked up. “What’s up?”

“One of the food trucks stalled out on the back road. Driver radioed in. I’m gonna head over, but he said he might need you, too, in case some of the food needs to be transferred to another truck before it spoils.”

Mia frowned. “What happened?”

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