Chapter 47
Micah’s heart pounded in his ears as he let his statement hang out there.
“What happened?” Naomi finally asked, her voice soft with compassion.
“Her name was Caroline.” The words came out before he could stop them. “We’d been married three years and were living in Greenville, South Carolina. She was five months pregnant. We were having a baby girl.”
Naomi went still beside him—not in judgment but surprise.
Caroline’s face slammed into his mind. The way she’d glowed when she told him about the baby. The way her hand had rested on her stomach, protective and tender.
“Two years earlier, I’d spent eighteen months building a case against a trafficking operation running out of three counties,” he continued, his voice flat.
“When it finally came down, we put nine people away. The man at the top got life without parole.” He paused.
“His son blamed me for what happened. Said I’d destroyed his family. ”
He paused to compose himself, to find the right words.
Naomi waited for him to continue, giving him space to collect himself.
“I was at work. Caroline was home. It was the middle of the day. We lived in a safe neighborhood. I had no reason to think—” He stopped and swallowed hard.
“This guy . . . he broke in. Caroline tried to call 911—the phone was in her hands, and the nine had been pressed—but he shot her before she could.”
Naomi’s hand found his under the blanket, and her fingers curled around his.
“By the time I got home, she was—” His voice cracked. “She was gone. Both of them. Gone.”
Silence stretched.
Micah’s throat tightened. His chest ached.
He hadn’t talked about this in years. Years. He hadn’t let himself go back to that day, to the moment he’d walked into the house and—
“I’m so sorry,” Naomi whispered.
He nodded but couldn’t speak.
Her hand tightened on his.
“I couldn’t protect her,” he finally said. “I thought she was safe. But I was wrong.”
He turned to look at Naomi then. At the way her eyes shone with unshed tears. He felt the way her hand held his like she could anchor him to something solid.
“I won’t make that mistake again,” he murmured.
Naomi’s eyes searched his face. “You didn’t fail them, Micah.”
“I did.”
“No.” Her voice was firm. “What happened to Caroline—to your daughter—that wasn’t your fault. You can’t be everywhere. You can’t protect everyone all the time.”
“I should have been there. I promised Caroline I’d keep her safe.”
“You didn’t know.”
“That’s the point.” His voice sounded rough. “I didn’t know. And because I didn’t know, I lost them.”
Naomi shifted closer, her shoulder pressing against his. “You lost them because of someone else’s choices. The only person you should blame is the person who pulled the trigger.”
He wanted to believe that. But he couldn’t.
And more than anything, he feared making that mistake again—except this time with Naomi and Grace. He cared about them far more than he’d wanted to admit.
Today . . . when he’d thought Naomi might be in danger . . . he’d known with clarity that she’d found a place in his heart, whether he wanted that or not.
He couldn’t lose her too.
His gaze locked on hers. “I just need you to be careful. Please. No more running off alone. No more putting yourself in danger.”
“I know. I won’t.”
“Promise me.”
She looked at him, her eyes serious. “I promise. I’m sorry I did it earlier. I just . . . I hate feeling so helpless, and I saw it as my chance to do something. But I quickly realized how ill-equipped I was. That it was a big mistake.”
He nodded, some of the tension in his chest easing.
The two of them sat in silence, the blanket wrapped around them both, the swing creaking gently.
Naomi’s head tilted slightly and came to rest on his shoulder.
He relaxed into it and let himself feel the warmth of her beside him, the quiet comfort of her presence.
Naomi couldn’t breathe.
Caroline. A baby girl. Both of them—gone.
The weight of what Micah had just shared pressed down on her chest, heavy and unbearable.
She’d had no idea.
No idea he’d carried this. No idea that beneath all that competence was a man who’d lost everything. Who blamed himself for something that wasn’t his fault.
Her hand was still wrapped around his under the blanket, and she tightened her grip.
“Micah,” she whispered.
He didn’t look at her. He just stared out at the dark yard, his jaw tight and his shoulders rigid.
She shifted on the swing, turning toward him. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. I had no idea.”
“It’s not something I talk about.”
“I know. But thank you. For telling me.”
He finally looked at her, and the pain in his eyes was so raw, so unguarded, that it took her breath away.
“You didn’t fail them,” she said again, more firm this time. “What happened wasn’t your fault.”
“Naomi—”
“It wasn’t. You can’t carry that. You can’t blame yourself for something you had no control over.”
His gaze searched hers as if he were looking for something—permission, maybe. Or absolution.
“Naomi . . . the truth is . . .” He licked his lips. “I’m terrified of losing you like I did Caroline.”
Warmth flooded her chest at his words. “You won’t. You won’t.”
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The mountain night pressed close around them, cold and still, and somewhere in the darkness an owl called once and went quiet. The blanket held their warmth between them like something worth keeping.
Then Micah leaned forward slowly and carefully.
He paused, giving her time to pull away.
She didn’t.
The next instant, his lips brushed against hers.
He waited again, almost as if he wanted permission to continue.
Naomi’s hand slid to the back of his neck, and she kissed him back.
As the kiss deepened, something unfurled in her chest. Warmth. Hope. The feeling that maybe—just maybe—something good could come out of all this darkness.
Micah’s hand came up to cradle the side of her face, his thumb stroking along her jaw. Naomi leaned into him, letting herself feel this. Letting herself want this.
When they finally pulled apart, both of them were breathless.
Naomi’s forehead rested against his, her eyes closed and her heart pounding.
“Naomi,” Micah murmured.
“Yeah?”
“I—”
The sharp buzz of the gate app cut him off.
They both froze.
Naomi pulled back, her hand sliding from Micah’s neck to his shoulder. She looked toward the driveway.
A pair of headlights aimed at the gate, illuminating the iron bars.
Micah’s expression instantly shifted back to alert and professional. “You expecting anyone?”
“No.”
He stood, the blanket sliding off his shoulders, and he moved to the edge of the porch.
The gate app on her phone buzzed again.
Naomi pressed the button on her screen. A video appeared, but the image was too grainy for her to see the features of the person on the other side. “Can I help you?”
A voice crackled through the speaker. “Naomi? It’s me. Gio.”
Naomi’s stomach dropped.
Gio? No . . .
Not now. Not tonight.
His timing couldn’t be any worse.