Miracle's POV
I sat on a cold, molded plastic chair, my knees pulled to my chest, staring at nothing.
The crumpled photograph of my father and me was a heavy weight in my palm. I'd tried to smooth it out, but the creases were permanent, just like the damage I'd done.
I didn't hear him approach. One moment I was alone and the next, a shadow fell over me.
I flinched, my body instinctively recoiling, my heart launching into a frantic rhythm.
"Easy, darlin'. It's just me."
Hardy. He stood there, holding two mugs of something steaming. He didn't smile his usual reckless grin. His expression was softer, more careful, like he was approaching a skittish animal.
"I come in peace," he said.
He extended one of the mugs. "It's hot chocolate. The stuff they have here is basically brown water, but I may have… enhanced it."
I just stared at him, then at the mug. My defenses, which had been on a razor's edge all day, wavered.
"Why?" The word came out suspicious.
