Chapter 32 Micah
Micah
My heart nearly beats out of my chest as I push around the gourmet pasta on my plate, the expensive food turning to ash in my mouth.
We're at the restaurant Tom booked for our breakup dinner, this upscale Italian place with soft lighting and intimate booths.
The kind of romantic setting that would be perfect if we weren't supposed to be ending things.
But Kellan isn't ending things. He's explaining what they discussed at the label with the band, his words tumbling out fast and excited.
How they found a clause in their contracts that lets them all walk away together.
How they're leaving Tom and the label to start fresh, making music on their own terms. How everything is going to change but it'll be okay because they'll have creative control and freedom.
"The label won't know what hit them," Kellan says, his eyes bright with possibility. "We can make the music we actually want to make. No more love songs about fictional Omegas or breakup ballads for albums we don't believe in. Just us, the four of us, creating something real."
I should be happy for him. Should be celebrating this massive step toward the life he wants.
But all I can think about is how none of this includes me.
He's talking about the band and their future and his career, but he hasn't said anything about us.
About what happens to this relationship once Tom is no longer forcing us together.
"Kellan." I set my fork down, unable to pretend to eat anymore. "If you truly want me, you need to fight for me. Not just fight Tom or fight for the band's freedom. Fight for me specifically."
He stops mid-sentence, his expression shifting to confusion. "I am fighting for you. That's what all of this is about. Leaving the label so Tom can't control who I'm with anymore."
"No." I shake my head, frustration building.
"You're fighting to save Lunar Ransom and return it to the band it used to be.
That's great, that's important. But I need you to let everyone know that you chose me.
That this isn't just about creative freedom or escaping Tom's manipulation.
I need you to tell them that I'm yours, Kellan.
That you're mine. That this thing between us isn't going anywhere. "
My voice rises slightly and I force myself to lower it, aware of other diners around us.
"I don't want to be another one-week fling or a mistake you made in a moment of rebellion.
I don't want to be the gimmick that got you out of your contract.
I need to know that when all of this settles down, when the band is established and Tom is in the rearview mirror, that you'll still want me.
That I'm not just convenient right now."
"Micah—" Kellan reaches for my hand but I pull away.
"I don't want this to be the end." The admission comes out raw, exposing the fear I've been carrying since Tom announced the accelerated timeline. "But I also can't keep doing this if I'm the only one all in. If you're going to leave me eventually, I need to know now so I can protect myself."
I grab my coat from beside me in the booth, sliding out before I can lose my nerve. The restaurant suddenly feels too small, too hot, the walls closing in. I need air, need space to breathe without Kellan's sweet rum scent clouding my judgment.
"Where are you going?" Kellan's voice follows me but I don't stop.
"Outside. I need a minute."
The night air hits me as I push through the restaurant doors, cold and damp with impending rain. The parking lot is mostly empty, just a few cars scattered under the streetlights. I walk away from the building, needing distance from everything.
I hear Kellan come out behind me, his footsteps quick on the pavement. Then his hand catches my arm, spinning me around to face him. Before I can say anything, he pulls me into a fierce kiss.
Rain starts falling, light at first then heavier. It soaks through my shirt and plasters my hair to my forehead but I don't care. Kellan's lips are hot against mine despite the cold rain, his hands framing my face with desperate intensity.
"I do want you." Kellan's voice is rough when he pulls back just enough to speak, his forehead pressed against mine.
"Fuck, I think I'm in love with you, Micah.
Don't leave me. Don't walk away because I'm bad at saying the right things or because I get caught up in band stuff and forget to make you the priority. "
He kisses me again, softer this time. "You're not a fling or a mistake or a gimmick. You're mine. I want everyone to know it. I want to shout it from every stage and post it on every platform until there's no doubt in anyone's mind that Micah Davis belongs with me."
The rain falls harder, soaking us both completely. Water runs down Kellan's face, mixing with what might be tears but could just be raindrops. His sweet rum scent wraps around me even in the downpour, impossible to wash away.
"Say it again." My voice is barely audible over the rain.
"I love you." Kellan's hands tighten on my face. "I'm in love with you and I don't care who knows it or how inconvenient the timing is or what Tom thinks about it. You're it for me."
I kiss him this time, pouring everything I can't say into the contact. Relief and love and desperation all tangled together. The rain continues to fall but we stay locked together in the parking lot, uncaring of the cold or the wet or the possibility of cameras catching this moment.
When we finally pull apart, we're both shivering and soaked through. Kellan grins at me, that genuine smile that transforms his whole face.
"Let's get out of here." He grabs my hand, threading our fingers together. "Go somewhere dry and warm."
We run to his car, laughing as we slip on the wet pavement. The interior provides shelter from the rain but we're already drenched, water pooling on the seats. Kellan starts the engine and cranks the heat, both of us shivering as warmth slowly fills the space.
"Your place?" Kellan asks, his hand finding mine across the center console.
"Yeah." My heart pounds for different reasons now. "My place."
The drive feels longer than it is, anticipation building with each mile. By the time we pull into my driveway, I'm vibrating with need. We practically fall out of the car and stumble toward my front door, hands all over each other.
I fumble with my keys, dropping them twice before managing to unlock the door. We spill inside and Kellan kicks it shut behind us, immediately pressing me against the wall for another kiss. His hands are everywhere, peeling off my wet shirt and running along my ribs with careful pressure.
"Bedroom," I gasp out between kisses. "Now."
We make it upstairs somehow, leaving a trail of wet clothes behind us. By the time we reach my bed, we're both naked and desperate. Kellan pushes me down onto the mattress, following to cover my body with his.
What follows is intense and overwhelming, nothing like the quick desperate sex in his car from the other night.
This is thorough and intentional, Kellan taking his time to map every inch of my body.
His mouth traces my scars, kisses the bruises that are still healing, worships the parts of me I've been self-conscious about.
When he finally pushes inside me, we both groan at the connection. The feeling of completeness that comes with being joined like this. He moves slowly at first, letting me adjust, his eyes never leaving mine.
"I love you," Kellan murmurs, his hips rolling in a steady rhythm. "Fuck, I love you so much."
"Show me." I pull him down for a kiss.
"Micah." His voice breaks on my name. "Fuck, I'm gonna—"
His knot locks fully inside of me, the sensation triggering my own release and I come between us with Kellan's name on my lips. He follows seconds later, his whole body shuddering as he fills me.
Kellan's weight presses me into the mattress but it feels good.
His sweet rum scent mixes with my own, creating something uniquely ours.
"I love you," Kellan says again, his voice soft in the aftermath.
"I should have said it weeks ago. Should have fought for you from the beginning instead of letting Tom dictate everything. "
"I think I've already been there." I run my fingers through his damp hair. "But I was too scared to say it. Scared you'd think it was too fast or that I was getting too attached to something that was supposed to be temporary."
Kellan pulls out his phone from where it landed on the nightstand, somehow still functional despite the rain. He types something one-handed, his other arm wrapped around me. Then he shows me the screen.
The post is simple, just a few words on his social media with a photo of our joined hands. The caption reads: "My Beta forever."
Tears prick my eyes at the simple declaration. No staged photo shoot, no carefully crafted PR statement. Just Kellan telling the world that I'm his in the most straightforward way possible.
"Is this okay?" Kellan asks, suddenly uncertain. "I can delete it if it's too much—"
I kiss him, cutting off the rambling. "It's perfect. You're perfect."
I curl around him, or as much as I can with his knot still locking us together. This is what I needed, what I've been craving since this whole thing started. Not the performance or the publicity, just this intimacy and connection.
Kellan's phone starts buzzing with notifications, hundreds of responses to his post flooding in.
But he silences it and sets it aside, all his attention focused on me.
"My Beta forever," he repeats, kissing my forehead.
"I meant it. Contract or no contract, band or no band, I choose you. Always you."
"Always," I echo, letting my eyes close as exhaustion pulls at me. "I choose you too."