33. CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
C ARLY
It’s hard to explain the emotions coursing through me as I stare at the wreckage all around.
It’s like observing the aftermath of a disaster, like coming out of a warzone but still hearing the blasts in the background. Okay, maybe that last comparison is a little dramatic, but it’s hard to get my heart to stop pumping from the leftover adrenaline, and it’s even harder to stop hearing the sounds of battle drowning out my screams for everyone to stop. None of them listened. Even though I screamed till my voice was hoarse for Micah to stop what he was doing, he didn’t care, smiling in rage as he continued to wreak havoc throughout the room.
I can’t believe that just happened. As I glance around the bar, taking in the broken chairs and the glass shards on the floor, along with the disturbed patrons who didn’t flee during the fight, devastation tightens my chest. I can’t help but think that somehow all of this was my fault. I did something bad that inadvertently led to this.
Even though I can’t pinpoint exactly what I did wrong, the guilt remains. I just can’t help being a screwup and I attract trouble everywhere I go and now that has brought all this to a head.
It’s what my mom used to tell me when I was younger, after all.
You’re bad luck, Carly. Her words echo in my ears. Ever since I had you, we haven’t had a moment of peace. You mess up everything around you and it’s because of you this family can never be happy .
She told me all those vile words when I was six years old and broke a plate. She’d already been annoyed that day at something my father did, and the broken plate just gave her an excuse to unleash her vitriol at me.
I told myself that she didn’t mean it and even if she meant it, it wasn’t true.
But after today, I might have to reconsider. Tears push the back of my eyelids, bathing me in waves of emotion.
“Carly?”
I jerk around to see Emma approaching me with a concerned look on her face. Her body guards stand back, though they’d leaped in to protect her during the fray.
“Are you okay?”
I nod and swallow my emotions, even as the guilt pushes past my control. “I’m so sorry, Emma,” I say and my voice still cracks a little despite my best efforts. “This is all my fault. I can’t believe this happened.”
Emma frowns and shakes her head. “Carly, it’s not your fault. Those assholes probably came in here looking to start trouble, and they did.”
“Yes, but Micah attacked them because of me, and that led to all this... obliteration.” I gesture around. “The chairs and the drinks… all of it wasted. Destroyed.” I’ve seen how hard Emma and her grandfather worked to keep this place running, especially through all those months where they barely had any customers and we were hemorrhaging money. Still, they kept the doors open and kept things going. They took care of their employees and they worked hard because of how much they love this place. The Tiki Bar is their pride and joy.
And because of me, some assholes just destroyed everything.
“It’s okay,” Emma says gently, moving to hug me, maybe because she can sense I need it. I hold her tightly, trying my hardest not to cry and not to keep babbling about how sorry I am. “It’s fine. Sure, I wish Micah would have controlled his temper and let Yule handle it and toss those assholes out. And I definitely wish Old Man Shoreton and his pals hadn’t gotten involved. But none of this is going to break us, alright? We have insurance, and even if we didn’t, I have that hot billionaire fiancée, you know?’
She winks at the quip and I manage a weak smile. “Still. I’m sorry. I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to take it out of my check.”
“Okay, now you’re talking nonsense and you’re going to piss me off.” Emma sighs. “Look, no one’s taking anything out of your check because none of this is your fault. And even if it was, I wouldn’t take money from you. And for you to tell me that means you’re not in the right state of mind right.”
I press my lips together and say nothing. If I do, I might cry.
Emma’s gaze gentles even more. “Look, you can go home for the rest of the night. Yule and I are probably going to clean up and then close. Maybe you should bail out Micah. Looks like he’s going to need it.”
I shake my head. I don’t want to see Micah right now. I’m still too angry at him, and also feel guilty because of that anger because I know he did this to defend me. I don’t want to hurt him.
At the same time, I’m not happy with how he acted, so I can’t stand in front of him and pretend to be okay with it right now.
But I don’t want to go home either, or even to Mrs. Peach’s right now. If I do, all I’m going to do is cry and torture myself with the thought of Micah sitting in a jail cell somewhere because of me.
Ugh, Emma’s right. My mind is a mess.
“I’ll help you clean up,” I tell Emma instead.
“You sure?” she asks and I nod.
We get to work and as we do, Yule returns from soothing the customers. I apologize to him too. Like Emma, he waves it off and tells me that it wasn’t my fault and somehow their easy acceptance only makes me feel worse.
And then to top it all off, Grandpa Crane walks in while we’re picking up the broken pieces from the floor and says, “I heard there was some kind of kerfuffle in here. What happened?”
“Nothing major, Grandpa,” Emma responds. “Just some asshole who was bugging Carly, and Micah defended her, but then it devolved into a whole bar fight.”
“Carly?’ Grandpa turns to me and something on my face makes his eyes melt in concern. “You doing okay, Lady Fishy?’
“Yeah, I’m good.” My voice is hoarse, but I’ve managed to fight back the worst of the emotionality by that point. “I’m really sorry about all of this, Grandpa. I feel a little responsible.”
“Nonsense.” He waves his hand. “You’re not any more responsible than I was for the time an ex-girlfriend tried to run me over with her car because she heard another girl at school liked me. Say, did I ever tell you that story?’
“Yes,” Emma and Yule deadpan simultaneously.
“Oh?” He rubs his chin. “Well, I’m going to tell you again. It was a cool and rainy afternoon….”
About an hour and a long, convoluted story later, we’re finally done cleaning, and Emma, Yule, and Grandpa say their goodbyes at the entrance of the restaurant.
At this point, I’m conflicted. On one hand, I just want to go home and rest and wash the day off of me. On the other hand, I don’t feel good about leaving Micah in jail overnight either. I also don’t like leaving things unresolved between us.
So I sigh and catch a bus to the police station.
When I get there, from the entrance, I already hear the raucous conversation. I listen to Micah’s voice loud and clear, arguing with someone about the dimensions of a building’s foundation. I hear Shoreton arguing back and then I hear the sheriff telling them both to shut up or he’ll put them in solitary.
“It’s a jailhouse, not a prison, Sheriff,” Micah counters. “And you can’t put me in prison for being right!”
At that point, the sheriff rubs his temple in annoyance and notices me lingering at the doorway. Relief flashes in his face. “Come to get him out of my hair?”
I nod.
“Good. I’m tempted to have him sleep here the whole night, but something tells me he’s going to be a pain in my ass.”
As I glance at them arguing, Micah’s still gesturing wildly as he discusses the jailhouse’s lack of proper ventilation.
“This is inhumane,” he says, “It smells like piss and donuts in here, and someone could pass out and get their—”
He freezes when he sees me, the words dying on his tongue. “Carly...”
He turns and his hands grip the bars as I walk forward.
My emotions are a mix of several things–relief, gratitude, affection, and sadness. But for some reason, it’s the frustration that rushes to the forefront.
I raise my eyebrow as I stare at him. “Really? That’s all you have to say to me?”
He gives me a crooked grin. “You still mad at me, huh?”
“Of course, I’m mad at you, Micah.” The words rush out of me and for the first time in a long time, I don’t care about my tone or who might be watching. I don’t care about keeping up my perfect mask. I only see Micah and I need him to see me. “Do you know what I hate more than anything in life? Spectacle. I hate being involved in it. I hate being the subject of discussion and having people look and talk about me all the time. I’ve lived with that embarrassment my whole life because of my parents. As a teenager, do you know how many times I’ve had to rescue my dad from a bar brawl? I don’t want to do that anymore. I chose you because I thought you wouldn’t make me do that, that you were more stable than he was.” Micah’s face falls at the comparison, and guilt pricks me. That was wrong. He’s nothing like my dad.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.” I take a breath. “I appreciate what you did and why you did it. I know you were just trying to protect my honor, but I don’t want you getting in fights because of me anymore. Okay? If we’re going to be together, then I need you to act like an adult and not put me in this position–”
I cut off when I realized what I just said, regretting that last sentence as heat fills my face. Ah, shit. I didn’t mean to say that.
I’m hoping Micah will ignore it, but he doesn’t.
“Wait.” A slow smile spreads across Micah’s cheeks. “Is this you asking to be my girlfriend?”
I blush even more aggressively. Drat. “That’s n-not what I was s-saying,” I stutter. I’m suddenly hyperaware of all the men in the jail cell watching. “Micah I–”
“Because if you’re asking, the answer is yes,” he continues, excitement brimming in his voice.
That stuns me silent again. “What?”
“I want you to be my... girlfriend.” He seems a little puzzled as he says it, but confident as well, his smile widening. “I think I’ve wanted to ask you for a while now but I didn’t know how to bring it up.”
I gape. “Really?”
He nods and I don’t know what to say next. This is... I can’t...
Did Micah Landing just ask me out?
I’m too stunned I don’t even know how to deal with that. So I go back to the point at hand.
“I’m not going to if you keep ending up in jail,” I find myself saying, still shocked that I’m actually going along with this.
“I won’t,” he says, raising a hand. “Scout’s honor.”
“I’m serious, Micah.”
“I’m serious-er, Carly.” He grins. “Now can we kiss on it?”
“No,” I say, but it’s too late. His hand reaches through the bars and wraps around my uniform, tugging me forward. His face leans in and presses against the iron, his lips pursing.
He waits with his eyes closed.
I roll my eyes. He’s such a goof.
But I’m smiling as I lean in and kiss him anyway. Clapping and whooping break out over our heads.
After I bail Micah out of jail, he bails all the other men out too. As he does, their wives and girlfriends start showing up to pick them up and give them an earful about what happened. As Micah is helping argue their cases and using his charm to soothe the women, I step out for some air.
Just in time to see my cousin being brought out of a police vehicle in handcuffs.
I freeze on the steps. “Nate?”
He looks up at me. “Oh hey, Carly.”
The police officer with him looks between us and then eyes me as he walks Nate up.
“Just going to get some more paperwork done,” he says as he passes by me.
“Wait, Nate.’’ I turn and want to ask him about the burned guy he told me about. But the officer is staring closely and looking at us suspiciously and I don’t want to say anything that will make him even more suspicious.
So I say, “Never mind.”