He somehow wasn't surprised that someone followed, nor that it was Mia. He'd been waiting for this. For her to say what she needed. It felt like it had been almost too easy with Rosalie and Branson. If anyone was going to tear a strip off him, it would be Mia, and he both welcomed and dreaded it. "Say what you need," he told her, even as he moved to start making the frosting for the cake. She wouldn't object. It needed doing. "You've waited your turn for it."
"What, you think I came in here to flay you alive?"
He paused for a moment in measuring the sugar, looking up at her. "That's neither a confirmation nor a denial of your intent, isn't it?"
"Maker," she muttered. "You could always be maddening with how pedantic you can get." She sighed, resting one hip against the counter. "Really, I've said what I needed to say in my letters. Never much minced words. But I wish you'd damn well say something for once. There's quiet and there's silent, little brother, and you've been far too much the latter."
He had to admit the truth in that. "To be fair, my silence initially was mostly because I assumed you were dead when I heard Honnleath fell. Then when you finally tracked me down, the silence was because I didn't know what to say. How to be the man you were writing to. I couldn't."
"You've changed. So have all of us. But I still recognize you. And not just your looks."
"It just got so big in the end, Mia. Too much time, too much to say, and little of it felt like it suited a letter."
She mulled that over for a moment, then gave a single, slow nod. "Will you tell me when you can? Someday? Piece by piece if you must, just so long as you tell me what's going on."
"If you'll tell me what you've endured. I know you, Mia. You stepped right into the traces Ma and Da left, even to the point of going to all the effort to try to look for me," and he didn't underestimate just how hard she must have pushed for the Order to tell her where he'd gone. "But I find myself wondering who looks after you?" She didn't have to have gone nearly as cold and hardened as he had to have drawn back in self-preservation. "I assure you having nobody I could speak to about any of it all these years did me few favors. And I know you. You wouldn't talk to Bran and Rosie." She wouldn't feel able. She had to be the one they could rely upon.
