Chapter 24 #2
Momma, though, had softened the second she saw Micah’s eyes on me. She didn’t look impressed by muscle or height or the kind of presence women in Charleston whispered about. She looked impressed by the way his attention stayed anchored to me—like he couldn’t help it.
Like he didn’t want to.
“You’re the one she called,” Momma said quietly.
Micah’s eyes flicked to her. “Yes, ma’am.”
Cassie’s gaze bounced between us, openly fascinated in that way teenage girls were when something romantic finally got interesting in real life. “You’re … intense.”
I shot her a look. “Cass.”
“What?” she said, unrepentant. “He is.”
Micah’s mouth twitched, barely. Not a smile—more like the idea of one.
Bo crossed his arms and leaned back against the porch post, looking Micah up and down. “You always show up like that?”
Micah didn’t react to the bait. “Only when it matters.”
Mason barked out a laugh. “Well. That’s ominous as hell.”
“Language,” Momma said automatically, though there was no heat in it.
Lily, oblivious to nuance and powered entirely by curiosity, stepped forward until she was just a few feet from Micah. Sunny followed her like a bodyguard, pressing his shoulder to her leg.
Lily tilted her head up. “Are you gonna marry Joy?”
I choked on air.
“Lily!” I hissed, mortified.
Momma’s eyes widened, then she covered her mouth, trying not to laugh. Cassie’s jaw dropped in delighted horror. Bo looked like he was about to say something inappropriate and Daddy looked like he was fighting the urge to turn to stone.
Micah’s gaze snapped to mine—not panicked, not smug. Just … searching. Like the question had hit something he hadn’t named yet.
He answered Lily carefully. “I’m … not sure what Joy wants.”
My throat tightened at that. Not because it was perfect—because it wasn’t. It was honest. And honesty, in a moment like this, felt like a kind of tenderness.
Lily frowned, unimpressed by adulthood. “Well, do you like her?”
“Lily,” I tried again, but my voice came out too small, too flustered, too not-me.
Micah’s eyes stayed on me when he answered. “Yes.”
Sunny thumped his tail once, as if that settled it.
Cassie made a high-pitched noise. “Oh, my God.”
I covered my face with my hand. “I’m going to pass away.”
Momma laughed softly then, the sound cutting through the tension like sunlight. “Leave her alone,” she told my siblings, but she said it with warmth. “She’s been private about her heart her whole life. Give her a minute to figure out how to be seen.”
That landed.
Because it was true.
I’d always been the responsible one. The steady one. The one who didn’t ask for much. The one who kept things contained and manageable.
Being adopted didn’t make me fragile, exactly—but it made me careful. When you started life as a “maybe,” you learned early how to become low-risk. Easy to love. Easy to keep. Easy to choose again.
And I had been chosen again. Over and over.
By my parents. By this land. By the routines that kept my life predictable enough to feel safe.
Micah wasn’t predictable.
Micah was a door I’d opened and couldn’t close.
Daddy cleared his throat. “Joy.”
I dropped my hand, meeting his eyes.
“You didn’t tell us how important—,” he said, almost choking up. He wasn’t accusing. Just … hurt that I hadn’t trusted them with it.
“I didn’t plan it,” I admitted. “I didn’t even expect it.”
I let out a shaky breath. “I didn’t tell you because—because it felt like if I named it, it would become real. And if it became real, it could be taken.”
Momma’s face gentled completely. She stepped forward and took my hands in hers, squeezing. “Joy. Honey. Look at me.”
I did.
“No one can undo what’s real,” she said. “Not time. Not fear. Not some woman at the gate with a fancy car.”
My eyes stung again.
Micah shifted, like he wanted to move closer but wouldn’t unless I invited him.
I invited him without words—just by not stepping away when he came to stand beside me.
Daddy’s gaze sharpened on that, then softened. “You’ve got a good heart,” Daddy said to Micah, surprising me. “I can see that.”
Micah’s jaw flexed. “I’m trying to be worthy of her.”
Cassie made another noise—half swoon, half scream—and clapped a hand over her mouth.
I stared at Micah, my chest doing that dangerous ache thing again. Because men like him didn’t say things like that unless they meant them. And if he meant it …
I wasn’t sure I knew what to do with the magnitude.
Momma brushed my hair back from my face like I was still eight years old. “We chose the name Joy,” she said softly, “because we wanted you to know what you were to us. Not a burden. Not a question. A gift. Light.”
Her voice thickened. “And I need you to remember that right now. Whatever world you’ve stepped into … you’re still ours. And you’re still you.”
I nodded, swallowing hard. “I know.”
Bo exhaled, scratching the back of his neck. “So, what now?”
I looked out toward the fields—the rows of flowers, the work waiting, the life that had always been simple enough to hold in my hands.
And then I looked at Micah.
At my family.
At Sunny, who pressed against my knee.
“Now,” I said quietly, “we keep going. We do what we’ve always done.”
Mason arched a brow. “And what’s that?”
I smiled, even as my eyes burned. “We protect each other.”
Micah’s hand found mine again, this time in plain view.
And nobody asked me to let go.