11. Mike
Eleven
Mike
She doesn’t slam the door.
That’s the worst part.
She just closes it. Quiet. Final.
And walks.
No real yelling. No tears.
Just her walking away from me like I didn’t just ruin the best fucking thing that ever happened to me.
I should let her go.
Give her space.
But I can’t.
So I grab my jacket and follow.
—-
Shanay’s already halfway down the street when I catch up with her—close enough to hear the crunch of her boots on gravel.
She doesn’t turn around.
“Go home,” she calls over her shoulder. Voice tight. Sharp.
I stay silent.
A few more steps. Her pace quickens. Mine stays steady.
“I’m fine, Mike.”
Still, I don’t answer.
“Seriously.” She whirls around, eyes blazing. “You can’t control every part of my life. You don’t get to follow me home like some… overprotective caveman.”
I stop. Keeping my hands at my sides. Letting her breathe.
She huffs, frustrated, then turns back around and keeps walking.
I follow from a distance.
It’s not about dominance.
It’s about the fact that I need to know she makes it inside safe.
She reaches her porch. Fumbles for the keys. Glances back once.
“I’m inside now,” she snaps. “Happy?”
I nod.
She slams the door in my face this time.
I stand there for a second.
Just long enough to hear the deadbolt slide into place.
Then I walk away with a head full of thunder.
* * *
The second the door closes behind me, I slam my fist into the wall.
I stand there breathing like I just ran a damn mile uphill with fifty pounds on my back.
What the fuck just happened?
I worshipped her. I marked her.
I made her mine.
And now she’s gone.
Because I didn’t ask?
Jesus.
I scrub a hand over my face and pace the kitchen.
Every part of me is wound too tight, heart pounding like it’s ready to fight something—or someone.
She should be here.
Safe. Fed. Warm. With me.
That was the whole point.
I can still smell her on my skin.
Flowers and sweetness. Fuck, so damn sweet it hurts.
She was so damn perfect this morning, tucked against my chest, her breath warm on my neck.
And now?
Now I’ve got a cold bed and a heavy heart.
—-
I don’t sleep that night.
I just lie there in the dark, staring at the ceiling, replaying everything.
She looked at me like I was a stranger.
Like I’d taken something from her.
Like I wasn’t the man she thought I was.
You didn’t give her a choice.
That thought lands hard.
Because she’s right.
I didn’t.
I just decided.
Because in my world, when you care for something, you keep it.
You don’t ask the fire if it minds being sheltered.
You just build the goddamn shelter and drag it inside.
But she’s not a fire to contain.
She’s the whole fucking world.