bag from his bed that had his belongings.
The trip to the car was filled with a ponderous silence. Mia had a death grip on his hand and burrowed into him on the elevator ride down to the lobby. When they got to the rented SUV, Mia’s father automatically went to the back.
The silence continued on the drive to her childhood home. Her father looked out the window and Mia rested her head back against the seat, her eyes closed. Part of him was concerned that she was so tired, but after what she’d told him yesterday about her relationship with her father, he also knew how much she needed to talk to him.
So, for now, he’d let her rest.
It was a good thing she’d entered in the address on the GPS otherwise they wouldn’t have gotten there as everyone was lost in their thoughts. But when it told him to turn left into an established subdivision, Mia opened her eyes and sat straighter in her seat. He could feel the apprehension rolling off her. How long had it been since she’d been home?
“Turn here,” she said, indicating the driveway to their right. It was a white, two-story, Colonial style home with six massive columns equidistantly spaced.
He turned into the half-circle driveway and pulled to a stop in front of the door. Shutting off the engine, he just waited. Mia took a deep breath then opened the car door and got out. Ethan followed suit then opened the door for her father. From his side of the vehicle, Ethan watched her. She stood with her hand on the car door frame, staring up at the impressive house. He could only imagine what was going through her head—all the memories and pain assaulting her as she regarded her childhood home.
Ethan walked around the car to her. Her mouth curved into a thankful smile before latching her hand on to his. That gesture told him so much—about the state of her nerves, her anxiety level, and her need for his support.
With the other hand, she closed the door and together, they walked up the path behind her father to the front door. Her father unlocked the door and went inside. Mia stood still. Ethan wasn’t going to push her. He would let her lead. When she moved, so would he. After a few silent moments, she took a deep exhale of breath and stepped over the threshold for the first time in years.
“Uh, Papa, could we maybe sit down?” she asked, glancing to the room to their right. The interaction between Mia and her father intrigued him. Her normal confidence was gone. She usually just did what she wanted. Here, not so much. She was hesitant, smaller. Was this how she had always acted around her father?
“Yes. If you wouldn’t mind though, I’d like to clean up and change out of these clothes before we talk.”
“Sure,” she said with a weak nod.
With a tilt of his head towards them, Mr. Devereux headed up the stairs. Mia tugged Ethan’s hand and led him into the living room. It was a formal space with multiple seating groups set up all over the large room, except in the far corner which housed a black grand piano completely covered in pictures. He was drawn to it, wanting to know more about the woman who carried his child. It pulled her to it as well, because before he knew it, they were both standing in front of the piano.
At least thirty pictures, all in different yet complementary frames, covered the closed lid of the piano. He studied them, all of her, and got his very first glimpse of a young Mia. She was absolutely adorable with her unruly curls cascading down her back, her big brown eyes, and her smile that went on forever.
He wanted all these pictures and was very tempted to get out his phone and photograph every single one of them, especially those of her as a baby. He secretly hoped their children all looked like her.
“Look at you! I particularly like the pigtails on you,” he teased.
To which she replied with a sharp elbow to his ribs. He rubbed the tender spot before kissing her forehead. “Thanks for bringing me. It means the world to me to be here with you.”
Her gaze rose to meet his and she grinned. “You don’t understand … thank you. I don’t think I could do this without your support.”
“Any time, suga,” he said. His finger traced the smooth