No Fault of Mine

Chapter Twenty-Six

My emotions were bouncing around like a ping pong ball at a Chinese-American face-off. I wanted nothing more than to hear his voice, but I also feared what his voice would say.

This is not a good idea.

I must have said that silently a score of times, but the urge to call got stronger as the night deepened. As my resistance weakened, I reminded myself that I usually take directions from my heart, not my head. In an odd sort of way, explaining my psychology seemed to make my emotional decisions less of a weakness. However, I still knew that I'd jump into the fire and often destroy the very thing I wanted, but most of the time, I stuck with my emotional decision, leaving ashes behind.

This may be a Stoddard trait. Hadn't Thad reacted to me in a similar way. He jumped to conclusions and then, in anger, pushed me away. I'm still unsure if we're on the same path, which troubles me.

I imagine that's the way it is with Stan. I pushed him away in anger; what trust can he have in me? Similarly, what trust can I have in Thad?

"Yes," Stan said, his voice thick with sleep.

"It's me," I said.

There was rustling of sheets, an attempt to clear his throat, and a thud, which I took as his feet hitting the floor.

"Mia?" His voice was less groggy. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, Stan," I said. "A recent conversation reminded me how unfair I was to you."

"Okay," he said uncertainly. "I'm pretty sure that could've waited till morning. I know you, Mia, something up. What's going on?"

"A lot," I said. But I don't want to waste time. I'll catch you up when you're not sleeping if you'd like."

"Well, that's already happened: I'm not sleeping. What is it?"

"I found a sheet of paper in a folder titled Failsafe in my home office. It's a shared office that Martin and I used. In Martin's script are numbers and letters. I think this may be what the harassing phone calls were about."

"You've got my attention," he said, "but why tell me? Aren't I on your suspect list?"

"Of course you are," I said, "but I need help."

"Listen, Mia, I don't want you to do anything you don't want to do, even if you are desperate. If you don't trust me, fine. I can handle that, but I'm not sure you can. I don't want you to get more stressed because you think you've given the bad guys what they want."

"I've so much in my head right now, I think it's about to burst. Maybe I should give them the information...whoever they are. Maybe they'll go away, and I can have a peaceful life."

"That's an option," he said wistfully.

"I'm sorry, Stan," I said. "I treated you poorly. I regret that, but I also regret not being able to see you."

"Okay, I get that," he said and paused. I waited. "I regret not seeing you, too."

My heart jumped. Mine was an admission of longing. Is that what his words meant? I wanted to say more. I wanted to tell him I had feelings for him...I wanted more time with him...and to see how well we fit together. It was all I could do to let our expressions of our feelings, however cryptic, sit and not be explored.