His mother went hysterical and cried into her husband’s shoulders. I look over at Mia and met her eyes. Her tears were coming fast and fierce, but she gave me a weak smile to prove to me that she was strong and would get through it. There wasn’t a single dry eye in the room. Brandon was a special friend to Mia and I had resented that fact. Neither one of us were able to disguise our pain, knowing that Brandon didn’t make it. He died saving my angel, the woman I loved.
Brandon died a hero.
***
MIA
The funeral service was one of the most emotional things I had ever experienced. I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't do anything but stand helplessly and witness Brandon’s parents spiralling into debilitating grief. Dammit to Hell. I wanted to punch someone. Kick something. Hurt myself so the pain on the outside matched the pain I was feeling on the inside.
Brandon. Dead. Twenty-five years old. His life had only just started. He was always so full of happiness and joy. That was all gone. That light was forever extinguished. It was a beautiful service but I couldn't stay in the church a minute longer. I was suffocating; I had to leave. I calmly stood and discreetly walked out the door, even though my legs were urging me to run. The air outside was so thick and humid, it was impossible to suck enough air into my lungs. I felt as if I was drowning. I closed my eyes, hating the feeling I was experiencing.
Zane's voice brought me out of my dark thoughts. “Mia?”
I flinched when he touched me.
“Baby, come on; let go of the railing.”
Railing? I looked down at my white-knuckled grip I had on the metal handrail, then at Zane standing next to me. Tears dripped down my cheeks. My mouth couldn’t form any words.
He attempted to pry my fingers free. “Mia. Please. You’re scaring me. I’ve been trying to get your attention for the last five minutes.”
Something about his tone spurred me to act. My fingers uncurled, but I'd been clutching the metal so hard, I'd lost all feeling in my hands. I was numb all the way to the bone.
How long had I been standing there in shock, lost in grief and disbelief?
Zane took me by the arm and half-shoved me in the back of his cab truck. “Let's go home, angel. I need to get you home.”
"I'm so sorry I’m such a mess,” I said to him.
“All the more reason for you to let me help you.”
It felt like an eternity had passed before something shifted in me. I struggled to get out of the truck, totally in a trance, but I allowed Zane to guide me into the pub and upstairs to bed for some much needed sleep.
Once he'd settled beside me, I twined my arms around him, tangling my legs with his. “Stay with me, angel. Don’t go. Stay the night with me. I'll deal with your father if he says anything, which I don't think he will,” he whispered thickly against my throat. “I’m here for you. There’s no place I’d rather be than with you, Mia. You know that, right?”
My whole body relaxed as I expelled a deep sigh and felt Zane's fingers trailing up and down my spine as sleep overtook me.
We spent many nights talking and just lying awake in each other’s arms, comforting one another. Zane helped me shake the events of that awful day away and move forward. Some days were harder than others, but I had Zane. I wasn’t sure how anyone could ever move forward from something like that. But I missed Brandon so much, especially at the office. I was always expecting him to barge through my office door at any given moment and ask me to go down for a latte with him. Brandon's death had changed us both, but where did we go from there? How would I move on?
Grief sucked big time.
***
ZANE
After a leisurely meal, which turned out to be romantic and fun, even amidst a noisy Thursday-night crowd at my bar, Mia helped me lock up for the night. I could tell Pep Brunetti was not impressed Mia was spending so many nights with me, but he never said a word. If he did, I'd have something to say to him. I told Max that I would pursue her at the convention, and if she so much as told me to stop, I'd back off and move on. She didn't. That woman couldn't resist me. I couldn't give a shit what the her family thought. Mia was mine.
Looking at her as she tidied up the pool table had my dick instantly rigid. Sweet baby Jesus, she looked hot. I had been having some insane fantasies about that pool table and I needed to create some new memories for her to erase all the bad ones she had about the pub. No time like the present.
We didn't even make it to the bedroom before I'd stripped her slowly. Silently. I lay her down on the pool table and when she was bare before me, I murmured, “I knew I’d find my angel under here.”
Her eyes, always so expressive, were oddly wary when she whispered, “Am I really your angel?”