Chapter Twenty-Four
Micah
I blame the margaritas for why I’m so fucking tactless. Tadhg may be slow when he makes them, because he’s still new to having a real job, but they were fucking drunk.
Wait—that’s not right. Strong. They were strong. I’m fucking drunk.
Or maybe I should blame the three mind-blowing orgasms I’ve had between the margaritas and now. Once when Tadhg blew me in the backroom of the Feral Possum after we closed down, and then two more since he carried my drunken self home. There was a pit stop in there somewhere to check on Tobias, but he was asleep on Gunnar like a spoiled kitten—Gunnar is so far gone for him, and it’s barely been a week; it’s both hilarious and adorable—so we decided to leave them in peace.
Either way, I know it’s tactless when the words come out of my very dry, sandy mouth. I want to shove them back in immediately, drink water, and then go to sleep because I can feel myself painfully sobering up. But it’s too late for that.
“I got you meds, by the way.”
That’s all I say. It’s enough to make Tadhg’s entire face crumple and every hint of post-orgasmic bliss straight up flee the building.
“What? What meds?”
“Your psych meds. The ones you had to cold turkey from when you were dragged up here. There are a lot of online subscription providers now. I went snooping when I was getting that discreet STD panel for Tobias and I finally found one that I was able to talk into giving me the exact prescription you were on before.”
“Bambi… You can’t. That’s the whole point, I can’t have my name on stuff. It just makes me easier to find. Fuck!”
“No, no, no—I put it under my name. Don’t worry, every single scrap of paperwork says ‘Micah Alexander’ on it. Which will hopefully not reach my bosses.” I reach out to cup his face, because the panic is already rising in him, and I can see him fighting the urge to crawl out of bed and start doing something unnecessary. “I knew what to say so it sounded like I was just restarting a prescription I’d had before. Honestly, it’s easy if you understand the meds. It’s unethical, sure. But I think we crossed that bridge back when I was burning your fucking clothes. They won’t be traced to you, doll. I promise. It’s fine.”
Tadhg freezes. I can see the gears working in his brain, and I suddenly get the impression he’s searching for another argument against it. Which doesn’t make sense.
He needed these meds so badly that he went out and got them on his own, once upon a time. He had to keep it a secret from everyone he knew, and he’d probably been told that using them made him sick or weak or something. So why is he resisting the idea now, when he has so much more support and so much less to lose?
Shaking his head, Tadhg rolls onto his back and looks away from me.
“I don’t want them, Bambi. I’m fine now. I just want to focus on getting out and then everything will be fine.”
Quelling the anger that statement inspires physically fucking hurts. But I do it, because this is his fucking brainwashing talking. And as much as I love to think I’m right about everything all the time, yelling at him about this is probably not going to help anyone’s mental health.
I move closer to him, not letting him get away from me. Propped up on one elbow, I place my hand flat on his chest and trace a path through the faint golden hair that covers his tattoos.
“No. You’re not fine. You’re coasting, and that’s not going to work out long term.”
He doesn’t pull away from me, but he does continue to look anywhere but my eyes. There’s yet another long pause before he speaks, and I’m forced to go to my work-brain instead of my normal brain to find the patience to wait.
I am not, by nature, a patient person. Especially when the man I love’s life is on the line.
That thought makes my brain screech to a halt, though. Is that what’s happening here? Are we in love? I love him, of course. I’ve always loved him. And lusted after him, since we met as adults. But has all of that combined to being in love?
No part of my mind or body hesitates to give me the answer.
Yes .
So, I have to protect him at all costs. From himself as well as the Banna.
“Talk to me, doll.” I have to prompt him when he doesn’t speak for too long. “I know this is difficult, but avoiding the conversation isn’t getting us anywhere.”
“About what? I don’t need them. I’m an adult and you’re not going to force me. Just drop it.”
The snap to his voice has me very fucking concerned about how I’ve managed to unintentionally touch a nerve.
“Oh, hell no,” I say as I sit up, leaning back and pushing him until he’s also scooting up to a sitting position. All that restraint I was holding on to before burns away, and I’m left with nothing but the anger and the alcohol fueling me now. “If you’re going to be so defensive about this that you would rather pick a fight with me— me, your fucking Bambi, asshole—than talk to me about it, then we are definitely fucking talking about it. Spill. Whatever’s cooking inside your head just tell me. Don’t make me tie you up and edge it out of you because I am too fucking tired, and I have to work tomorrow.”
I pair this rant with a little eyelash fluttering that always seems to make him melt for me, then pinch his belly when he still hesitates too long.
“Ow!”
“Speak!” I snap.
I am fresh out of fucks right now.
Tadhg rubs his belly where I pinched him, pouting at me in a way I’ve never seen him do before that is so fucking adorable I want to throw up. But now’s not the time.
“Jesus, Micah. You’re fucking savage.”
I’m squinting at him to see if he meant what I think he meant, but his face is blank. No pun intended, I guess. I’ll back pocket that for another time.
“Tell me the truth, Tadhg. Why don’t you want the meds?”
He huffs and continues to look shifty, but now I can tell that the words are right beneath the surface. They’re trying to break out, so I give him the space to let them.
“I want my dick to work, okay?”
Ah.
“Doll, that’s not?—”
“Save it,” he interrupts. “I know my dick barely works anyway, and you like to tell me I’m perfect as part of your kinky little fetish or whatever, and that’s fine. But I can’t go from it working most of the time back to none of the time. Not when I have you now. It’s not worth it. You make me feel ten times better than the pills ever did. Why would I risk that?”
My heart melts a little because fuck me that’s sweet. Especially for someone as laconic as Tadhg. But it’s not the point.
I shuffle closer, until I’m straddling his lap, and I can take his face in my hands where it belongs. He’s trapped under my gaze, and I refuse to let him go anywhere.
“First of all, telling you you’re perfect isn’t a kink. You are perfect. Perfect for me.” He blinks and tries to look away, but I hold him firm. “And second of all, nothing could happen that would fuck this up. I don’t care if your cock is soft, I’ll keep it warm in my wet, hot mouth all day while we watch TV. Or I’ll get you a Viagra script as well, and maybe you’ll get such intolerably stiff boners that I’ll have to watch you fuck a fleshlight while you ride my cock. Or I’ll strap you to a prostate massager and watch you come all over yourself so many times that you start getting cramps from dehydration and beg me to stop.”
He’s still trying not to look me in the eye, but now he’s squirming and there’s a delicious pink blush painting his cheeks, telling me how much he likes the sound of all of that.
My voice softens though, because I need him to really understand. Every haze of doubt and alcohol is gone, now. I’m tired and bleary-eyed, but there’s not a fucking fiber of me that doubts how I feel about him or what I want.
“Or maybe you have less interest in sex, and we find other ways to connect. I don’t care. I love you , Tadhg. I’m in love with you. I think I might have been in love with you since I was eight years old. I don’t care about the details, as long as we’re together.”
He hisses in a sharp breath, finally looking me in the eye. I know I’m squeezing his face too hard, but a sudden wave of emotion has fisted around my heart, and I can’t quite control myself.
“I just need you to be alive for it, so I can keep loving you. Okay? Please?” My voice cracks on the please, and the sudden pressure behind my eyes quickly turns into tears. Only a few, though. Just enough to roll down my cheek and leave me feeling choked.
Tadhg looks whiplashed. He nods slowly before bringing his hand to my cheek to wipe the errant tear away.
“I’ll be here, Bambi. I’m here to protect you, remember? I made a promise.”
For whatever reason, the reminder of a pinkie promise made a million years ago sends more tears flooding up to embarrass me. I don’t bother to hide it, though. I sniffle a little as my cheeks get wet and Tadhg continues to wipe them away with gentle touches.
“You better. Or I’ll die too just so I can kick your ass.”
The words come out all thick and wet, like they do when you’re crying, but we both kind of chuckle anyway.
“I know you would. Don’t worry, Bambi. I’m here.”
Part of me was waiting to hear him tell me he loves me. Not that he hasn’t told me a million times before, but something about this time would have felt different. If he needs more time, he needs more time, though.
I lean back a little, sniffing deeply and pressing the heel of my hand into my forehead while I try to get myself under control.
“Ugh,” I say as the tears dry up. “I promise I wasn’t planning on crying. This wasn’t some epic emotional manipulation to get you to take the pills. I’m not even a crier, it just happened. It’s your fault for giving me blowjobs and margaritas, obviously.”
Tadhg lets out a soft laugh, and I latch onto it with my whole heart.
“I know, Bambi. I’m not sure you’re subtle enough for emotional manipulation. You just yell at me until I do what you want.”
“Damn straight.” Another sniff, and then I feel more like a real person again. “Okay, well, I’m going to get the pills. I can’t make you take them, but will you at least promise me you’ll think about it? And I swear on Satan’s ham wallet that whatever side effects you have if you take them, we will deal with them together. And it will be fine , as you love to say.”
Tadhg mouths the words ham wallet at me with a furrowed brow, and I finally let out a genuine laugh of my own.
“It means vagina, Tadhg.”
The scrunched up, horrified face he makes in return makes me graduate from laughing to cackling.
“You’re such a baby,” I say as I pull him into a tender kiss. We can revisit the medication talk again later. And again and again and again, for as long as we need, until my doll is all taken care of.
Savage
Three days after the conversation we had about meds, I’m almost convinced that the subject is dropped. I’m praying for it. Until Micah shows up to pick me up from work, looking pale and exhausted and rumpled from his shift.
I don’t kiss him in the parking lot, because we’re still on the DL until we can figure out how to completely get out from my father’s thumb. Not that he would be caught dead here, but he has eyes everywhere. Eamon, usually, although that fucker is on his last thread of Father’s patience for spending more time looking for Tobias than working. I’m pretending I don’t know shit, obviously. I’m just quietly gathering information about Eamon’s betrayals, like I was asked, and minding my own business otherwise.
The other issue with potentially kissing Micah in public would be explaining to the world that we’re not actually brothers and never were. Especially considering how everyone keeps forgetting to use the word “step” no matter how much we remind them. But that’s a problem for my future self, if he’s still around.
I want to kiss him, though. Kissing Micah has become something that my body yearns for all the time, like a flower turning toward the sun. It’s probably pathetic, but it’s also so all-consuming that I don’t care. I just want more. Letting him look at me and touch me the way that he does feels like being warm for the first time in my life, and I’ll be damned if I let anything get in the way of that. Even my own fucked-up brain.
This is what I’m thinking about when Micah starts the engine to head home, and I blame the distraction for why it takes a minute for the words to land.
“I know I promised to let you think about the meds,” he says, instantly making all the muscles in my body tense. “I am. I swear. But it got me thinking about something else.”
What am I supposed to say to that? Micah’s gaze flits nervously to me for a second, then back to the road, before he continues.
“You keep talking about how you can’t put your name in any records, and you have to lay low. That’s what this is all about, right? Because Sir Shithead told you the Aryans have a bounty on your head or whatever.”
The barely-restrained disdain Micah always has when he talks about Father fills me with a weird sort of warmth.
“Yeah, exactly. They could show up anytime. They won’t quit until they find me, is what Father said.”
Micah drums his nimble fingers on the steering wheel, chewing on the inside of his cheek for a minute while he works himself up to saying whatever he wants to say.
“Are you sure he was telling you the truth?”
I swear I bluescreen on the world for a second, because nothing he just said makes sense.
“Why the fuck would he lie about that, Bambi?”
I can’t hide the irritation in my voice, but it rolls off of him. He’s never been truly scared of me a day in his life, and I’m sure I’m even less intimidating now that he knows how to make me cry and beg like a little sissy for an orgasm. I don’t actually want him to be scared of me, obviously, but it is annoying when that’s the only way I have of getting people to do things and he’s fucking immune.
Micah sighs. “Maybe he didn’t lie. Maybe he thinks it’s the truth, and he’s just wrong. Or maybe he did lie because he wants to keep you in hiding. I don’t know. I can’t help but think about it, though, and no matter how I look at it, it doesn’t make any sense. The Aryans and the Banna being at war—sure. But you specifically? Hunting you down and making you pay for what? Surviving their assassination attempt? You didn’t even testify, which is what started this whole thing, right? But then he also said it wasn’t about that; they wanted you before. This whole thing smells like bullshit.”
I’m blinking and mindlessly nodding along, because for a few stuttering moments, the words don’t land. They’re floating around me, too intangible to take root.
The only thing I find less believable than Father lying to me is the idea that he just… Got it wrong? That doesn’t happen. He has too many eyes on the world. He always knows the play. Something like this couldn’t slip past someone like him.
I’m startled by warm flesh on my flesh when Micah takes my hand in his. He’s still looking at the road, but the concern on his face is obvious now.
“I’m just saying, if they really wanted you that badly, don’t you think they would have come for you by now? This is a small town. I know I’m not on the inside, but I’ve been around the Banna enough to know how things work. It’s not paperwork that leads them to you; it’s fucking word of mouth. You can change your name and hide out at the bar, but everyone in Possum Hollow knows who you are by now and there’s no way that information hasn’t made its way back to the Brotherhood. They have just as much of a foothold here as your father does.”
I blink again, my thoughts drifting and too hazy to pluck out any individual ones.
“Why would he lie?”
Then Micah does turn to look at me for a few seconds, his mouth downturned.
“I don’t know, doll. But I think we have to find out.”
The rest of the ride back home is quiet, weighed down with the revelation that Micah just cracked open inside me. I can’t stop thinking about it. Whether he lied to me or made a mistake. What he has to gain by keeping me on the sidelines, even if it’s what I wanted anyway.
I’ve been so blinded by the distraction of this illusion of freedom, I forgot to look for all the strings that must be attached. And now not only is Father calling me back to work, but I have to figure out what pound of flesh he really wants from me.
It’s too much mindfuckery to not be covering up something more sinister. But I’m used to everything he does being sinister, so I never looked more closely.
Idiot. If that man finally kills me just when I’ve found Micah… I won’t let it happen. I know I promised Micah no more killing, even though it was always going to be a lie. But now I’m even more convinced. I’ll kill whoever I need to if it carves me and Micah a path to freedom and away from all this bullshit.