51. Mira

51

MIRA

It's been a few days since the neon fever dream.

But I'm having flashbacks. The pulsing lights, thumping music, and screams of pleasure are taking me right back to that night.

"Why are they playing club music at a children's trampoline park?" Jemma asks. "I used to get drunk to this song. Maybe that's why I'm feeling nauseous. PTSD."

Rachelle holds up a hand to shield her eyes from the strobe light flashing above our heads. "It's like they're trying to disorient us on purpose. I can't even see my kid."

Jemma stretches onto her toes to see over the crowd of parents hovering around obstacles that could be on the kid version of American Ninja Warrior . "Gallagher is in the ball pit. Aiden is helping him onto the side so he can jump in again."

I see Aiden giving Gallagher a boost and my heart literally swells with pride. Aiden isn't my kid—I know that. But he feels like mine. The fact that he's been leading Gallagher around the trampoline park by the hand all morning instead of keeping up with the bigger kids is proof that he's every bit as wonderful as I think he is.

I don't know if it's normal for nannies to feel like this about the kids they're hired to take care of…

Then again, it's not normal for nannies to wake up in their employer's bed every single morning for a week straight.

So Zane and I left "normal" behind many, many orgasms ago.

A stupid smile spreads across my face at the thought of him. It's a bad habit I can't seem to break. Not since we walked out of that cocktail lounge bathroom together.

He took me home, washed my hair in his shower that is spacious enough for two—no matter the position, as I've learned—and tucked me in his bed.

I'm more well-rested than I've been in years and I haven't had a single nightmare all week.

All thanks to Zane.

Jemma groans. "Oh, great. My kid just popped up for half a second and then buried himself in the ball pit again. Looks like we'll be bringing home a mysterious rash and RSV."

"You sound like Jace," Rachelle laughs. "He read an article about the germs found in a ball pit and hasn't come back here since. I asked him to bring Gallagher and he said he blackmailed Zane into doing it instead."

"I wouldn't count on that happening anytime soon," I chime in. "I think I'm taking that burden off his hands as we speak."

Rachelle turns to me with a frown. "He sent you to do his dirty work? Oh, hell no. Just for that, I'm making Zane and Jace come with the boys next time. Let them suffer in this germed-up, sensory overload hellscape."

"Oh, God." Jemma jumps up. "Count Jalen out. I'm never bringing him here again."

She runs off towards the ball pit and Rachelle busts up laughing. "Do you see Jalen?"

He's hard to miss. He's standing on a swing with his shirt and shorts stuffed full of plastic balls. He looks like a miniature Michelin Man. When Jemma gets close, waving for him to get the balls out of his shirt and get down, he escapes into the murky waters of the ball pit and doesn't resurface.

"Boys," Rachelle murmurs, shaking her head. "Age five or thirty-five, they're all the same."

I look around for where Aiden and Gallagher got off to and don't see them. I'm about to ask Rachelle if she has eyes on them when she lets out a long, loaded, "Soooooooooo…"

I brace myself. Against what, I'm not yet sure. "Yes?"

"How was your weekend?" She bites back a grin. "Get up to anything interesting?" Before I can even start to lie, she adds, "Have sex in any public places and leave wearing someone else's clothes?"

I gasp and that's apparently answer enough.

"I knew it was you in that picture!" She slaps a hand over her mouth as she cackles.

I grab her arm and jerk her close. "Mind keeping your voice down? We're surrounded by children."

Rachelle actually giggles. "I'm sorry, but when Jace showed me that picture this morning, I didn't believe him. I mean, Zane normally wouldn't be caught dead in a place like that . But there is only one person I know of who could convince him."

"Daniel," I interject. "He showed up with Daniel and we ran into each other. And what picture are you talking about?"

"The picture of you and Zane!" She whips out her phone. The picture is locked and loaded like she's been waiting all morning for this moment.

Thanks to the bubbles and flashing lights, the picture is blurry and washed out, but there's definitely a shirtless man leading a woman in a men's button-down through the lounge by the hand.

"Where did you get this?"

I didn't see any cameras there, but I should have known better. What if Peter Morris gets a hold of this? CPS liked Jace with a serious girlfriend, but they might frown upon fucking said girlfriend in public places.

"Jace saw it online. Someone tagged him in it and accused him of cheating on me." She rolls her eyes and takes the phone back. "But I knew they had the wrong guy. Jace was very much not cheating on me that night, if you know what I mean."

"Thank God. I'd feel terrible if this messed things up for you two."

She waves me off. "Please. I'm so used to this kind of shit by now. There's always someone with a camera and internet access who thinks they know more about my relationship than I do."

"I guess that's what I'm signing up for," I mutter.

Rachelle snaps her attention back to me. "So things are serious with you two, then?"

"Oh. No. I didn't mean—I mean, kinda, but—I just meant?—"

A scream cuts through my rambling, and I'm jumping across a floor made of trampolines like Tigger on Adderall before I can even process what's happening.

Then I see Aiden.

He's cowering in the farthest corner of the "Bounce Zone" while a man towers over him with a professional camera in his hand.

As I get close, I hear him talking. "… wasn't trying to scare you, kid. I just want to know where your mom is. Or is she your babysitter?"

"Hey!" I scream, shoving past all the useless adults who have stopped to gawk. "Get away from him!"

The photographer whirls around. Recognition lights up his face and he reaches for his camera. "What's your name, sweetheart?"

The shutter clicks, but I ignore him. I'm locked on Aiden shaking in the corner.

Images of dark closets flood my mind. I can smell the mothballs and the drying blood. Can feel the dust under my fingers while I curled in on myself, hoping no one would come looking for me.

I know exactly how Aiden feels right now.

I hate that this is all because of me.

I drop to my knees next to him and throw my jacket over his head. "It's okay, buddy. I'm here. It's okay."

A man in the crowd yells, "What's going on?"

But it's too late. Because the photographer is already here. He got his pictures and scared Aiden. No one can undo that.

"Come on." I lift him to his feet and curl myself around him. "I'll get you out of here."

The parents are starting to clue in that something isn't right, but with the music and the lights, no one knows what. So the photographer goes on snapping his pictures.

"Are you dating Zane Whitaker?" he demands. "Are you the woman from the photograph? What's your name, hon?"

I take back every time I thought Zane was being paranoid. He was right; I shouldn't have told Evan to wait in the car. I shouldn't have let Aiden out of my sight.

This is all my fault.

"Fuck off," I spit.

He smirks. "Weird name. Is that first or last?"

Jemma and Rachelle are bouncing towards us. The sight of them leapfrogging trampolines should be funny, but I feel sick. I want to get Aiden out of here, now .

"First," I bite out, steering Aiden towards the front desk. "Last name: You'reafuckingasshole ."

Someone is talking to a manager and pointing at us. I've never been great with authority, but I want someone with a nametag right now. Someone who can punt this jackass out of the building and lock the doors.

I head towards them, but the photographer cuts in front of me.

"It's all going to come out one way or another. You might as well give me the exclusive," he warns, snapping another picture. "You can't hide forever."

I hear the words in another voice. In a raspy rumble, muffled through the wall of my bedroom. A hiss over a crackling telephone line.

You can't hide forever, Kitty.

I want to drop to the ground. I want to bury my head between my knees and brace for impact.

They've found me. It's over.

But Aiden needs me. He's shivering against my side, and I'm the only person standing between him and this creep.

I blink away the memories and shoulder past the photographer. "Don't fucking touch us."

Suddenly, a warm arm wraps around my shoulders. I start to jerk away, but then Jemma is in my ear. "There's a manager's office behind the front desk. We can lock you both in there."

On the other side of us, Rachelle is standing between us and the photographer, shepherding him towards the front doors with fire in her eyes.

"You got what you wanted, pal?" she asks. "Do you feel good about yourself, scaring a little kid and ruining a playdate?"

He shrugs. "Kind of."

"Well, fuck you!" Rachelle shoves him towards the doors where a teenager in a "Security" t-shirt ushers the man onto the sidewalk and closes the doors.

But as he does, I see the crowd gathered outside. People huddled in a semi-circle around the doors, all with their cameras out.

"What in the hell is happening?" I mutter.

"Ignore it, Mira. Don't look at them. Keep your head down." Jemma pushes me behind the desk and into the office. Jalen and Gallagher are already inside, loitering around like they've done this a million times before.

Do they have some kind of emergency protocol? A code word that sends them scurrying to safety like rats on a sinking ship?

I don't want that for Aiden. He deserves to be a kid. He deserves to live without fear.

As soon as the door closes, I drop to my knees and pull the jacket off of Aiden's head. He isn't crying, but I almost wish he was. Instead, he's staring at the floor with wide, blue eyes. His lips are pale and he's shaking.

"Are you okay, buddy?" I try to keep my voice even, but it's a struggle. My heart is beating out of my chest. "Did he hurt you?"

"He said… He was asking about my mom." His lip trembles and my heart breaks. Shatters into a million pieces.

I pull him against my chest and hold him, shushing him the way I wish someone would shush me. I'm not equipped to deal with this.

I have no fucking idea what to say.

My phone rings. I know without looking who it is. I feel it in my bones the way cows know when it's going to rain and cats know when someone is about to die.

I answer my phone and press it to my ear. "Zane?"

He sighs in relief. "Mira."

And I sob.