Chapter 11
MICAH
Istood in the break room of The Tight Line, staring at the empty space where Rylin must have been just minutes ago. Tammi had seen her run in here, but had been called away, so she didn’t know where Rylin had gone after that.
She’d run. I knew it in my bones. Not just stepped outside to clear her head or gone to the back for some fresh air. She’d bolted.
I rubbed the back of my neck and forced a deep breath through my nose, but it didn’t do a damn thing to slow the pressure tightening in my chest or calm the fire clawing at my insides.
I wasn’t about to lose her over some bullshit rumor or whatever insecurities she was battling in that beautiful, stubborn head of hers.
Fuck that.
I turned to head out, but something on the round table in the center of the room caught my eye.
Her notebook. The same one she always scribbled in when she thought no one was looking.
I’d flipped through it several times, and the edge of it always seemed to be sticking out of her tote bag, battered and soft at the corners from being opened and closed a thousand times.
Without a second thought, I snatched it up and headed for the exit.
I hadn’t wanted to bother with parking because I was in a rush to see Rylin, so I’d taken a black cab. But I didn’t have time to wait for a car, so I dashed out to the curb and waved down a yellow taxi. Once I was inside, I gave him the address for Rylin’s studio.
Part of me hoped she wouldn’t be there, that she’d gone home and was waiting for me to arrive so we could deal with this together.
The other half of me knew it was a fantasy.
Life had been trying to shake her loose for too long.
And I hadn’t had enough time to prove that I was her anchor.
But I wasn’t letting go without a fight.
The cab dropped me in front, and I marched up the stairs.
My jaw was tight, and my pulse hammered under my skin, but I kept it all locked down.
Fire and rage wouldn’t fix this. I needed to be calm and steady so I could show her that I wasn’t going anywhere.
And thought it wasn't the time to tell her, she needed me to show her that I loved her.
Being angry would only push her away and deepen the skewed lenses through which she saw herself.
I knocked once and waited.
Silence.
Sighing, I knocked again. “Rylin, open the door. I’m not leaving until you talk to me.”
Another second ticked by, then there was a faint sound of movement inside and the soft creak of the floor.
The lock clicked, and the door cracked open just enough for me to see her eyes—the hazel orbs rimmed red and swollen. She blinked, then seemed to change her mind and tried to slam the door shut, but I was already stepping forward, one hand out to block the hard surface before it could close.
“Rylin.”
“Micah, don’t—”
My other hand went to her belly, my palm pressing gently but firmly as I stepped forward.
I moved slowly enough to keep her from panicking, but with no room for her to misinterpret who was in control of this moment.
I pushed her back a step, crossed the threshold, and shut the door quietly behind me.
She wasn’t crying now, but she obviously had been. Her lashes were clumped, her skin flushed, and her breathing was uneven.
I wanted to haul her into my arms and never let go again. But first, we were going to talk. Because there needed to be no misunderstandings. No more pretending this thing between us was anything but vital.
“I’m not here to argue,” I assured her, keeping my voice low and steady. “But I’m not letting you hide from me either.”
“I wasn’t hiding,” she muttered, crossing her arms over her chest, her expression defensive and guarded.
Deciding not to pull at that thread, I stepped closer and added, “I’m not here to ask whether that rumor is true. Because I already know it’s fucking garbage. I know you. That’s not what this is about.”
She blinked rapidly and looked away.
“What I want to know,” I continued, voice rough with the weight of everything I wasn’t saying, “is why you didn’t come to me. Why didn’t you trust me enough to talk to me before running?”
Her arms dropped, shoulders sagging. “I didn’t want you to think it was true.”
I let out a short breath, not quite a laugh. “That’s what you were worried about? That I’d believe some random jealous gossip?”
She shook her head. “It’s not just that. I didn’t want you getting dragged into it. I’ve heard about the team’s code of conduct. The morality clause in your contract—”
I tunneled my fingers through my hair and looked up at the ceiling, taking a moment to pray for patience before meeting her eyes again.
“You think I give a single fuck about what some petty coworker said? Rylin, this wouldn’t even blip on the team’s radar.
You’re not some scandal. There’s no public meltdown.
No paparazzi photo. It’s gossip in a deli. Not Page Six.”
She bit her lip and stared at me, too many emotions moving behind her eyes for me to grasp what she was feeling.
“But that’s not even what’s killing me here,” I added quietly as I closed the rest of the distance between us and curled my fingers around her biceps. “It’s the fact that you thought I’d believe it. That you think so little of me—of us—that you assumed one rumor could blow this apart.”
Her chin trembled, but she tried to hide it with a swallow and a shake of her head. “I wasn’t trying to blow it apart.”
“You pulled away. You tried to end things. And then ran instead of facing them. You didn’t even give me a chance to explain how little it matters. Baby, I get that you have baggage and scars, but I know you’re stronger than this. What we have is stronger than this.”
Her eyes welled up, finally meeting mine. “I didn’t want to be a liability.”
“For fuck’s sake, Rylin.” I dragged a hand down my face, then held up her notebook that she’d left behind.
“You think I want you just because you’re convenient?
That I’d give you up because of a whisper?
I want you because of this. Because you’ve got a gift and a fire and this big, beautiful heart that you guard like it’s some fucking burden to everyone around you. ”
I put the notebook on a little table against the wall and took her face in my hands, my thumbs brushing over her cheeks.
“I want you because you try so hard to keep smiling when life keeps throwing punches. Because you take care of everyone else, even when it costs you. Because you’ve got this ridiculous talent you pretend doesn’t matter. I want you because you make me feel something I’ve never felt before.”
Her breath caught. Her lashes fluttered, and she leaned into my touch like she couldn’t help herself.
“Baby, I take care of you because I want to. I can’t stand to see you give so much and get so little back. Even from yourself.”
I leaned in until our foreheads touched. “I don’t need you to protect me, Rylin. I just need you. All of you. The soft parts. The scared parts. The pieces you think aren’t good enough. I need to be everything for you that you can’t or won’t be for yourself.”
She closed her eyes, and her hands came up to clutch my wrists, fingers trembling slightly.
“This won’t be the last rumor.” I needed to be honest because when shit like this happened in the future, and it would happen, she couldn't run. I would be her rock, but only if she let me. “If you stay with me. I’m not a normal guy with a normal job. People will talk. There’ll be bullshit headlines, half-assed stories, and plenty of jealous assholes trying to stir shit.
It’s part of the life I chose when I signed that contract. ”
“I don’t want to be a burden,” she whispered.
I lifted my head and backed her up until her spine touched the wall. My palm braced beside her head, my body crowding close until there was nowhere for her to look but up at me.
“You think I see you as a burden?” I asked, my voice low and dangerous. “A fucking charity case?”
She shook her head weakly.
“I’ve never wanted anything this bad in my life,” I growled. “Every single time I look at you, I see the woman I want more than anything else in this world. You’re not something to fix. You’re mine.”
Her breath hitched.
I leaned in, my lips brushing hers but not taking. Not yet.
“Don’t you get it, baby? You’re essential to me now. There’s no going back. Not for me and not for you. You’re mine, and I won’t let you go.”
She opened her mouth, maybe to argue. Maybe to say something noble and self-sabotaging.
I kissed her. Partly to shut her up and partly because I just couldn’t wait anymore.
It was deep and possessive. I put a little pressure on her chin, and she opened for me.
My tongue stroking in a slow, hungry slide meant to remind her exactly what she tried to walk away from. Who she fucking belonged to.
She melted into me with a soft sound, her hands sliding up my chest, gripping my shirt like she was afraid I might disappear. I wasn’t going anywhere. This was a reminder of how good it felt to be held like this. Kissed like this. Wanted like this.
I didn’t give her a second to pull away. Didn’t give her space to second-guess. Turning us around, I backed her deeper into the room, never breaking the kiss. Letting the heat between us speak louder than anything words ever could.
She was mine. And I was damn well going to prove it.
Her back hit another wall with a soft thud, and I pressed in, one hand braced beside her head while the other slid up the side of her body—fingers curling over the curve of her jaw as I angled her mouth to mine.
I kissed her like I was starving and she was the only fucking thing on earth that could keep me breathing.
Her lips were hot, soft, and slick from the way she kept gasping for air between each hungry clash of our mouths.
My tongue drove into her like I couldn’t get close enough, taste enough, take enough.