Chapter 17
SEVENTEEN
Is this the talk? Should I be taking notes?
SOPHIE
The cafe today is busy. I feel my phone vibrate five times in my pocket. A part of me hopes it's Micah. Another part of me hopes it's no emergency having to do with any family issues.
I take it out immediately to check.
Carter
You’re not going to thank me for the gift?
Come on, sweetheart, those things weren’t cheap.
I take care of you, don’t I? You should be nicer to me.
And trust me, that’s nothing compared to what I can really do for you…if you’re sweet to me.
I stare at the messages after another long closing shift at Boston Brews, my fingers clenched around my phone. My feet hurt, my head aches, and now this. I haven’t heard from Carter since I picked up his gift, and I’d almost let myself believe he was finally gone.
But of course not.
I’ve used all my sick days just to avoid tutoring him. I should’ve dropped him weeks ago, but the money—God, the money—I still need it. I kept thinking if I held out a little longer, he’d quit on his own and save me the struggle.
I wish Micah were here. He’s in Boston again for some meeting and he said he’d stop by the cafe if he got back in time. But he hasn’t. And I miss him. Way more than I should.
He makes me feel safe. And I don’t know if that’s something to lean into or run from. Because safety is unfamiliar. Safety is dangerous. It puts your guard down and gives you hope. And when it ends—because it always does—it hurts that much more.
The thought of Carter sends a familiar chill crawling down my spine.
His tone. His entitlement. His fake generosity.
It reminds me of my stepfather. The way he used to knock harder and louder when I didn’t respond.
The way I had to lock my door and wedge my dresser against it just to sleep at night.
Maybe I should tell Micah. I know he’d help me. He’d get angry—like he did with Ella—but this would be different.
But then I think about everything Micah already knows.
The scar on my forearm. Carter humiliating me in front of him that first day he helped me.
Ella mocking my clothes. He’s seen the cracks.
This could be the one that makes him walk away.
I’m a mess. A never-ending avalanche of problems. And at some point, even Micah will get tired of digging me out.
I have to deal with this myself.
I’ll figure out the money another way. If I don’t get another tutoring student, I’ll pick up extra shifts at Boston Brews—though my class schedule barely allows it.
I could sell some clothes, even if they’re just old Westcliffe merch with small defects.
Someone might want them. There has to be a way.
The drive home does nothing to quiet my thoughts. Once I'm parked, I stay in the car and open Carter's thread again. My thumb hovers. My heart pounds.
Me
Fuck you. We’re done. I’m dropping you as a student.
I hit send. Then I block his number.
My hands are shaking. I rest the phone on my lap and breathe in slowly, like I can hold all the panic in my lungs and crush it.
What if he shows up? What if he tries something?
Cross the bridge when you get there, Sophie.
I stay parked for a long moment, fingers locked tight around the steering wheel, forcing myself to breathe. In through my nose, out through my mouth. I count each exhale until the tightness in my chest finally loosens.
Thankfully, I found a parking spot just two blocks from my apartment. I check my surroundings before leaving the car. I’ve been doing it more lately—I don’t know if it’s because of Carter, or the other thing sitting in the back of my mind—or both.
The evening air is cool against my face as I walk, trying to keep my thoughts quiet, but they won’t stop circling.
In the distance I see a comforting, familiar silhouette under the streetlight: broad shoulders, hands tucked into his pockets. His head tilts slightly when he spots me. He already knows something’s wrong.
The moment I see Micah clearly, everything I've been holding together all night starts to slip. All the emotions I’ve been holding down surge to the surface, and before I know it, I’m running. Tears sting my eyes, blurring the edges of his figure, but I can see his arms open as soon as he spots me.
The closer I get, the deeper the frown forms on his face. By the time I reach him, I can barely hold it in. I throw myself into his arms, burying my face against his chest.
“Baby, what’s wrong?” His voice is low, serious, full of concern. “What happened?”
“I just…missed you. Especially today.” I force the words out, trying to keep my voice steady, trying to pretend he can’t feel how I’m shaking.
He doesn’t respond right away. He just watches me like he knows I’m not being honest.
“Sophie, you know you don’t have to do everything yourself, right?” He says. “I’m here for you.”
I force a small smile. “I know.”
He rests his chin gently on top of my head, and immediately his warmth grounds me. “And for the record, I missed you too,” he murmurs. “I wanted to catch you at the cafe, but the timing didn’t work. I thought I’d have a better chance finding you here.”
“You must be exhausted from the drive,” I say, blinking away the last of my tears, hoping to change the subject. “Did you eat?”
“I didn’t,” he admits, pulling back just enough to look at me. His hand slides to my waist, steady and sure. “And I know you didn’t either. Come on—let’s go grab a bite.”
We skim through the menus for a few minutes, tossing ideas back and forth until we each settle on something.
We decided on a local Thai restaurant that has amazing reviews, plus this was one of the only places open at this time.
Micah orders a green curry and sticky rice for us to share, and I pick a pad thai, which is always a safe choice.
Now we’re just waiting, the quiet between us stretching a little too long.
I keep taking small sips of my lemon water, pretending to study the wood grain on the table, because for some reason the atmosphere between us is awkward. Not bad awkward, but like he’s trying to say something but can’t get himself to.
Micah leans back in his chair, watching me a little too closely. “So,” he says finally, voice casual—too casual.
I narrow my eyes. “What?”
“Since we were…close to doing more last time,” he says, his tone maddeningly even, “I figured I should bring it up.”
I blink at him. “Bring what up?”
“Sex,” he says plainly.
I almost choke on my water. “Oh my God, Mom. Is this the talk? Should I be taking notes?”
Micah laughs, which only makes my face hotter. “I’m serious, Soph. I just don’t want you worrying about anything, okay? I’m not in a rush, and I don’t want you feeling pressured.”
I groan and cover my face with one hand. “You’re actually doing this right now.”
“Yep,” he says, completely unfazed. “I always use protection. And I get tested regularly—work thing. When you’re traveling all the time, meeting clients, shaking hands, sitting in packed conference rooms, the company makes health screenings part of the routine.
Not that I’ve been with anyone recently, but still. ”
I lower my hand, raising an eyebrow at him. “You’re saying this like you’re reading me a warranty policy.”
“Well,” he says, deadpan, “I could draft one up if that helps.”
“Stop.” I laugh despite myself. “You’re making this so awkward.”
“It’s only awkward because you’re making it awkward,” he teases, leaning forward slightly. “I just want you to know—when we get there, it’s supposed to be good for both of us. So if we’re ever moving too fast, or you’re not ready, you tell me. Deal?”
His eyes are steady on mine, and my chest tightens. “Deal,” I murmur.
But as the server brings our food, my thoughts spiral. Should I tell him I’m a virgin? What if it changes how he sees me? Or freaks him out? What if it makes things weird? But it would be wrong not to tell him, right?
I push my noodles around my plate, then take a breath. “Micah?”
“Yeah?”
“I, uh, I think you should know something.” My voice wavers, but I push through it. “I’ve never—I mean, I’m—”
“—a virgin?” he finishes for me, smiling slightly.
My head snaps up. “You knew?”
He shrugs, smiling like this is the easiest conversation in the world. “I had a feeling.”
“And you didn’t say anything?”
“Not really my business until you wanted to tell me,” he says simply, his tone softening. Then he leans back, his smile turning almost boyish. “If we ever move too fast, just let me know. I want you to be comfortable with me. That’s all that matters.”
I look down, feeling the heat on my cheeks, pretending to focus on my noodles. “Wow,” I mutter. “You’re really ruining my attempt to seem mysterious and cool.”
Micah smirks, resting his chin on his hand as he watches me. “You’re already cool. And for the record, mysterious or not, I like this version of you better.”
“Thanks,” I say as my cheeks heat.
“So, how have you been the past couple of days? I missed you,” he says, smoothly changing the subject.
“I missed you too.” My cheeks are probably still red, but I try to act normal. “Same old, I guess. Oh—I dropped my student today. You know, the one who—”
“Good.” His voice is firm, cutting me off before I can finish. “I was going to bring that up. I’m proud of you for handling it, but Sophie—please tell me if anyone is ever inappropriate with you. Okay?”
I want to. God, I want to. But what if this is the thing that finally makes you realize I’m too much?
I just smile and nod.
Micah studies me for a long moment, his perfect gray eyes searching my face like he can see straight through me.
My heart skips because I know—he knows I’m not telling him everything.
But after a beat, he just exhales softly and gives me a small, reassuring smile, letting me keep this to myself for now.
And that makes my chest ache even more.
I stare at my plate for a moment after he looks away. Carter's messages are still on my phone. I keep thinking about deleting them for good. Then I think maybe I should probably save them instead.
I don't know why. It’s not like I’m going to report him or anything. I don't want to make it a big deal or draw more attention to it.
MICAH
My mind is still on Sophie after dropping her off. That prick—the one who thought to gift her lingerie—keeps gnawing at me. She said she dropped him, and I believe her, but my gut tells me there’s more to it. And I’m a damn genius—my gut’s almost never wrong.
Sophie’s tough. She’s had to be. She’s survived things most people couldn’t handle, all on her own, without the resources I’ve had handed to me at birth.
She doesn’t have to anymore, though. Not if I can help it. I just wish she’d trust that I’m here to stay.
I run a hand over my face and lean back against the sofa, staring at nothing. It doesn’t help that my dad’s been on my ass lately, circling like a damn hawk. He hasn’t asked me directly about Sophie—yet—but I know it’s coming.
He’s been hovering more than usual, pulling me up to Boston every other day, adding mandatory interviews and meetings to my schedule, testing me—or keeping me too busy to have a personal life.
Boston’s only about an hour drive from school, but spending entire days at headquarters makes it harder to see my girl as much as I want to.
I’ve been playing it cool—acting oblivious, not complaining, just following the schedule. No slip-ups, nothing for him to latch onto. No reason to dig. Because I know my dad—Leonard Vale always gets what he wants, and once he decides to pry, there’s no stopping him.
I can’t let him be yet another problem for Sophie.
And to make matters worse, I got a text from Nico this morning. Three words: Release date confirmed.
I haven't told Sophie. I don't know how to tell her—or whether I'm supposed to, given that she doesn't know that I know any of it. But the date is sitting in my chest like a stone, and I've been carrying it through every hour of this day, smiling at her at dinner like everything’s fine.
But it’s not fine. It’s far from it.