Chapter 42
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
The alcohol is singing through my veins because when Micah’s in my arms, everything feels okay.
I don’t want to let go. Don’t want to break the moment.
Don’t want to wake up to the reality that I just gave Micah more ammo than I ever should have.
And scariest of all–don’t want to face the reality that I want Micah to be more than Arthur ever was. Desperately.
The skin on my fingers is starting to prune, and the water is getting cold, but Micah hasn’t done anything. Yet. So maybe I can just…stay here.
Micah moves first, and the second he goes to step out of the shower, I feel his loss. I straighten.
Right. Back to reality.
But then Micah is back, turning off the water and handing me a towel. I take it from him and unfold it to wrap around his shoulders.
For a second, Micah looks surprised. Then, the smile he gives me makes me stop breathing for a second. His eyes shine, and he looks at me like I just told him he’d never have to pay for anything else in his life.
Which is like a punch to my gut. Holy shit, he needs to stop looking at me like he’s actually a nice person.
He grabs me a towel from inside the towel closet and wraps it around my shoulders.
“What are you doing?”
“Drying you off.” His answer is fast, no hesitation as he starts patting me dry.
I don’t know how to interpret this because my terrified, scared, sad brain wants to see it as him being nice to me. Because he’s nice.
But am I just letting myself fall the second I feel safe? Because I once felt safe with Arthur, too. I have to figure it out. So I ask, words so quiet I’m not sure he’ll hear them, “What is this?”
Micah opens his mouth, then snaps it closed. That pretty mouth that was just wrapped around my cock.
I salivate and almost lose focus.
“I’m just helping you,” Micah says, then he winces. “If you want it, of course.”
My chest hurts. Because fuck, that’s what my brain wants to hear.
“That’s it?” I ask. My throat tightens even at the thought.
Micah’s cheeks pinken.
Ah fuck. My stomach drops. There it is. He’s hiding something.
Micah blows out a breath. “I’m not trying to scare you or rush you into something you don’t want.”
There it is. He’s admitting he plans on doing something that’s hurtful. “Scare me with what?” Manipulation? Toxicity? Guilt tripping? Narcissism?
He looks up at me, and his cheeks get even pinker.
“Well, I mean…you don’t seem ready to date.”
I stare at him. Date?
Micah shrugs. “But we don’t have to talk about that. I’m not trying to rush you.”
“Why would dating scare me?” I frown. He’s beating around the bush. Here’s where he needs to admit to what toxic trait he’s been trying to hide from me this whole time.
Micah’s cheeks are fully red now. “I don’t know…you just…are you ready to date?”
I pull back. He’s not going to say anything else?
Maybe because there’s nothing else to say. Because he’s a nice person.
“Why aren’t you dating someone?” I ask, my voice tight. Surely there’s a red flag other people keep seeing and breaking up with him for.
I’m grasping at straws.
Micah coughs, like he doesn’t know what to say.
But I think of a better question. “Why did you break up in the past?” I always believe the exes; they left him for a reason.
Micah shifts. “Uh, well, the last one neglected Princess.”
That stops me.
“And he cheated on me. The one before that also cheated on me. So…”
Now my cheeks feel hot. Micah is looking at the ground like he’s upset. And still, he doesn't make any move to take it out on me.
And suddenly I feel like shit.
Micah shrugs. “It’s fine. They weren’t the ones I was looking for anyway.”
The alcohol must be making me feel more, because I feel a twinge in my chest. Who is he looking for?
Some primal instinct is saying I need to stay focused, but I’m having a hard time remembering what I’m trying to stay focused on because despite all my best efforts, Micah seems so…nice.
There’s a rattling sound from behind me, and I glance at the bathroom door. I see a row of tiny fingers along the bottom of the door.
“You have a warrant?” Micah asks.
The fingers disappear.
Micah sighs dramatically, opening the door. “May as well let him in. There’s no way I’ll find a lawyer who will go up against Princess. He’s ruthless, but we can continue this conversation in my room if you want. Or yours.”
I stare at him, and the rattling continues, only louder this time. Micah slowly steps past me and opens the door. I turn to see Princess taking a step back like he’s affronted by both of us in towels.
“Pervert!” Micah makes tiny waving motions with his hand. “It’s all yours now.” He walks down the hall, and for a second, I hesitate. Follow him to his room? That feels so intimate.
But as Micah walks away, I realize this conversation isn’t over. I haven’t figured out what Micah’s deal is, and he’s being so talkative and open. Maybe the most since we met. And fuck, I need to lean into that.
And maybe, just maybe, a tiny corner of my cold, dead heart feels…warm.
So, despite my better judgment, I take a step to follow him.