Chapter 52
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
For some goddamn reason, my eyes fill with tears. Micah is willing to take the dog to the vet. A wash of some sort of warm emotion falls over me, and suddenly, I’m almost too tired to stand, but I muster up the strength to nod and grab the puppy.
“I think Minky is a good name! Don’t you?” Micah chatters as we get in the car. I don’t know how he has so much goddamn energy ‘cause I feel like I got run over by a car, but I need to hold it together. Micah brings Princess ‘cause ‘he’s a good guard dog,’ and we’re on our way.
As I watch the scenery flash by, I can’t believe everything that’s happened in the last few hours.
It doesn’t feel real. It feels like a dream.
A dream I don’t want to think about. I know I should be thinking about it.
Strategizing. But all I can think about is how much this vet bill is going to be.
Wait. Micah does know I don’t have any money, right? I sit straight up, making the dog shift. What are the rules here? Micah is nice to me in exchange for me holding my own? I can’t keep the game straight anymore.
“What?” Micah looks around.
“I don’t…” My cheeks burn. Surely he already knows this, right?
“I’ll pay you back.” He can hold this one over my head; I don’t care.
Micah blinks before turning his head back to the road. “No, you won’t.”
I stare at him.
The side of his face lifts in a smirk. “He’s my dog; I named him. So I pay for it. Right, Minky?” He glances over at the dog, who gives no reaction, then rolls his eyes and glances at Princess in the back seat. “You got my back, right, Princess?”
There’s a snuffle to which Micah snorts. Then he gives me a warm look. “We’re a team now. No biggie, but you kinda saved my life. So now that means I pay for things and you protect me from Princess’ vicious attacks. Oh, and you laugh at my stupid jokes. The laughing is non-negotiable.”
Rules. He just told me the rules. An odd sort of loosening happens in my chest.
“Deal?”
As he says it, the first ray of sunshine peeks over the horizon and lights up his face. He turns to me, wiggling his eyebrows before looking back at the road.
Something tiny and warm lights up in me, and softly, I say, “Deal.”
“That wasn’t a laugh, but it’s okay; we’ll work on it.”
I let out a forced chuckle. This feels weird. Is this really what he wants?
Micah fist pumps. “You got it, babe! That’s what I’m looking for. Next time, throw some more chest into it, and my head will get so big it’ll float away from my body.”
The vet doesn’t take long at all. The vet tells us Minky has a sprained leg and should be okay with rest and says there’s a no-walk rule for the time being. At first, she goes hard on us for his weight, and then Micah tells her we found the dog this morning, and the vet’s demeanor changes.
It’s not long until we’re out the door, and I let out a breath. That was so…easy. It feels like a weight I’ve been carrying for a long time drops off my shoulders, and for a moment, I can breathe again.
It must be the lack of sleep, because gratitude wells up in me.
I’m very aware of Micah’s presence, sitting next to me in the driver’s seat.
Of the way he’s sitting relaxed, driving slowly with only one hand on the wheel.
He’s all I want to focus on. I want to study every line of his body, drink it in, watch as he sings along to the music.
I realize I’ve been staring. Quickly, I jerk my gaze around to pretend like I’m surveying the car.
Minky is in the back, curled up, and Princess is up front with me, since he kept eating unknown things in the back.
He’s currently in the cupholders, trying to snuffle out crumbs.
I catch him throwing me a look before he lunges for Micah’s seat.
“Hey.” I snatch Princess up, but he’s determined, hooking onto Micah’s thigh. Micah lets out a gasp, and I snatch Princess away as the car swerves, and my shoulder bumps into the dash.
“Oh fudge!” Micah steadies the car. “Are you okay?”
I glance up at him, still wrestling Princess’ claws out of the chair, then check on Minky, who is still curled up.
“I’m sorry, you could have hit your head on the dash.” Micah worries his lip between his teeth. “Fudge, I’m so sorry.”
I blink. I didn’t even get hurt, but Micah is all worked up as if he’s actually worried.
It’s…confusing. Arthur never cared or even acknowledged when he took a corner too fast.
Right. Different game. Different rules. And now Micah is freaked out.
Oddly, I have the strangest urge to pat his leg. To tell him it’s totally fine. Wait. Would that be weird?
No, it’s not, right? I owe him for Minky.
Slowly, I creep my hand over to Micah’s leg, my heart pounding. I rest it there lightly.
Micah stiffens a tiny bit, and I see him glance at me out of the corner of his eye. Like he’s wondering what I’m doing.
I pat his leg awkwardly. “Uh, thanks,” I say.
“For what?”
“Minky.” But it’s more than that. Way more.
My dad never cared, and Arthur certainly never cared.
Speaking of Arthur, I remember his initial on my hip.
It sits there like a brand, and I can feel it on my skin.
Like it’s a physical thing that I need to cut off.
Because I’m not in that cage anymore. I’m flying away, like I hope the pigeons did. Like Nippy should have.
And then an even more sleep-deprived, loopy thought enters my brain: I should ask Micah to cover it up.
My hand starts to sweat, and I remove it. I start bouncing my leg. This scares me. It all scares me. Terrifies me, actually. I should run.
My mouth gets dry, but the lack of sleep is loosening my lips because I hear myself ask, “Can I pay you back for one more thing?”