17. Relentless Loyalty #2
The headlights of Olivia’s sleek, black Mercedes pierce through the gathering darkness as she navigates the winding road leading to Micah’s cabin.
Her arrival sends a wave of relief coursing through me.
After hours of anxious pacing and failed attempts at baking, the prospect of company—especially from someone who understands this world—feels like a lifeline thrown into turbulent waters.
She emerges from her car with the grace of someone accustomed to making an entrance. Even here, miles from civilization, Olivia maintains an air of sophisticated elegance. Her long, dark hair cascades over a designer coat. In her hands, she balances takeout bags and a bottle of wine.
“This place is definitely remote,” she declares as I open the door, her breath visible in the cold air. “But I can see the appeal. Very romantic hideaway vibe.”
Heat rises to my cheeks at her knowing smirk. “It’s not like that—”
“Honey, it’s exactly like that.” She breezes past me into the cabin, her perfume leaving a trail of expensive florals in her wake. “And we’re going to talk all about it over this absolutely divine chicken piccata from Amelia’s.”
The mention of Amelia’s—my favorite restaurant in Columbus—brings an unexpected lump to my throat. It’s been months since I’ve enjoyed their signature dish, months since I’ve done anything as normal as dining out. The thoughtfulness of Olivia’s choice strikes deep.
“You didn’t have to,” I say, but she waves away my protest with a perfectly manicured hand.
“Of course I did. Crisis counseling requires proper sustenance.” She sets the bags on the counter and begins unpacking containers with practiced efficiency. “And this particular crisis definitely calls for the good wine.”
She produces two crystal wine glasses from her purse—because of course Olivia Stark-Vitale wouldn’t dream of drinking fine wine from anything less.
“So,” Olivia says once we’re settled in the chairs with plates balanced on our laps and wine breathing in our glasses. “Tell me what’s really going on. Your text seemed anxious.”
I take a bite of chicken to delay responding, savoring the familiar flavors that transport me momentarily to better times.
How do I explain the complexity of emotions churning through me? Fear, worry, guilt, uncertainty—they’re all battling for first place in my mind.
“I’m worried about him,” I finally admit, staring into my wine glass as though it might offer answers.
“He’s involved in something dangerous. I can tell by the way he left this morning.
But he won’t tell me what’s happening, and I don’t know how to handle this constant fear that something terrible could happen to him. ”
Olivia’s expression softens. “Welcome to loving a man in this life, sweetie. It’s not for the faint of heart.”
“How do you do it?” I ask, desperate for guidance. “How do you not lose your mind with worry every time they walk out the door?”
“Bold of you to assume I haven’t already lost my mind.” She chuckles as she takes a measured sip of wine. “But honestly? You learn to compartmentalize. To trust their capabilities while accepting that some things are beyond your control.”
Her words resonate with uncomfortable truth. Control—or rather the illusion of it—had been Lucas’s weapon of choice. He’d systematically stripped away my autonomy until I believed I needed his permission to breathe.
Now, with Micah, I’m learning to navigate a different kind of powerlessness—one born from caring too deeply about someone whose life involves consistent risk.
“It was different with Vinny,” Olivia continues, her tone turning contemplative.
“That marriage was a business arrangement, pure and simple. My father’s idea of strengthening family ties.
” Her lip curls with remembered distaste.
“I spent most of those years praying something would happen to him, actually. Karmic justice for all the bruises he left, you know?”
I nod, understanding all too well the complex emotions that accompany hoping for an abuser’s death. The reality of actually causing that death, however, adds layers of guilt and confusion I’m still struggling to process.
“But watching my father’s men, seeing how they treated their chosen partners versus arranged marriages like mine,” Olivia leans forward, her dark eyes intense, “that’s when I realized there’s something different about the men who actually love the women in their lives.
A loyalty that goes bone-deep. They’ll burn the world down to keep their women safe and happy. ”
I think of Micah’s fierce protectiveness, the way he’s risked everything to keep me hidden and safe. His gentle dominance, the way he makes me feel cherished. The praise that rebuilds pieces of me I thought were destroyed forever.
“What about rewards?” I ask. “Please tell me there’s a way to balance the risks.”
Olivia’s lips curve into a knowing smile. “Oh honey, so many rewards. The loyalty alone is intoxicating. These men—the good ones, anyway—they love with their whole souls. None of that half-hearted bullshit you see in normal relationships. When they commit, it’s absolute.”
She pauses to refill our wine glasses, the rich, red liquid catching the lamplight like liquid garnets. “Take Micah, for example. I’ve never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you. That man would die to protect you without hesitation.”
The truth of her words settles in my chest. I’ve seen that devotion in Micah’s actions, felt it in the reverent way he touches me, heard it in the praise he whispers against my skin. But having someone else recognize and validate it makes it feel more real somehow.
“But that’s what scares me,” I confess, voicing the fear that’s been growing since he left this morning. “The thought of him taking risks, putting himself in danger … I don’t know if I’m strong enough to handle that kind of constant worry.”
Olivia laughs and it holds more understanding than mockery. “You survived years of actual abuse. The fact that you’re sitting here having this conversation with me is a testament of your resilience. You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for.”
Her words force me to consider my journey from a different perspective. She’s right—I have survived things I once thought would break me. The woman I was at the beginning of my marriage to Lucas would never have believed herself capable of the strength I’ve discovered since.
“Besides,” Olivia continues, reaching for another piece of chicken, “that’s what we’re here for. Your circle of friends. We support each other through the hard times, celebrate the good ones, and always have wine ready for emergencies.”
The acceptance in her statement brings unexpected tears to my eyes. After years of systematic isolation from friends and family, the idea of having a support system feels like a gift I’m not sure I deserve.
“I just…” I struggle to articulate the tangle of emotions churning inside me. “I never expected to feel this way about anyone again, especially not after Lucas. And certainly not about—”
“His father?” Olivia waggles of her brows. “Honey, the heart wants what it wants. And frankly, from what I’ve seen of Micah Hunt, your heart has excellent taste.”
A laugh escapes me despite my worries. “It’s not exactly a conventional relationship.”
“Conventional is boring.” She dismisses the concern with a wave of her wine glass. “What matters is how he treats you. Does he make you feel safe? Respected? Valued?”
The questions prompt a flood of memories—Micah’s careful attention to my boundaries, the way he asks permission before touching me, how he makes me feel protected without being controlling.
The praise that flows from him naturally, rebuilding my confidence one gentle word at a time.
The dominant side of him that emerges in intimate moments, always tempered by concern for my comfort and pleasure.
“Yes,” I whisper. “All of that and more.”
“Then fuck conventional.” Olivia’s directness startles another laugh from me.
“Life’s too short to deny yourself happiness because it doesn’t fit some arbitrary social norm.
Besides,” she adds with a wicked grin, “older men tend to be much better in bed. More patient, more focused on their partner’s pleasure. ”
“Olivia.” Heat floods my cheeks even as I laugh.
“Am I wrong?” She raises an elegant eyebrow.
The blush deepens as I think about this morning’s passionate encounter, how thoroughly Micah had claimed me before leaving.
“No,” I admit. “You’re not wrong.”
“Then there you go.” She looks entirely too pleased with herself. “Focus on the good parts—the loyalty, the protection, the mind-blowing sex. The worry … well, that’s just part of the package. But it’s worth it for the right person.”
Her words carry the weight of experience, reminding me she’s navigated these waters before, albeit from a different perspective.
The arranged marriage to Vinny may have been loveless, but she understands the criminal world Micah inhabits.
Her insights offer a roadmap for surviving the uncertainty that comes with loving someone in that life.
“How do you support them?” I ask, genuinely curious. “When you know they’re facing dangerous situations but can’t do anything to help?”
Olivia’s expression turns serious. “You love them fiercely when they’re with you.
Create a safe space where they can let their guard down, where they don’t have to be the strong one all the time.
And when they’re out there doing whatever needs to be done, you trust their capabilities while being ready to pick up the pieces if things go wrong. ”
Isn’t that what I’ve been doing instinctively these past weeks?
Turning this cabin into a home where Micah can relax, where the constant vigilance required by his position can ease?
Supporting him through touch and presence and understanding rather than demands for information he can’t safely share?
“It’s not easy,” Olivia acknowledges, reaching over to squeeze my hand. “But nothing worth having ever is. And from what I’ve seen, what you and Micah have? That’s definitely worth fighting for.”
A comfortable silence falls between us as I absorb her words. Outside, darkness has fully descended. The cabin feels warmer somehow, more like home, with Olivia’s presence filling the space that had seemed so empty after Micah left.
“Thank you,” I say finally. “For coming all the way out here, for the food, for … everything.”
“That’s what friends are for.” She tops off our wine glasses with a graceful motion. “Besides, I have ulterior motives. Once this current situation settles down, I fully expect you to help me navigate my own complicated romantic entanglements.”
The hint of vulnerability in her tone catches my attention. “Oh? I thought that was just about the sex.”
A faint blush colors her cheeks. It’s the first time I’ve seen the usually composed Olivia show such obvious shyness. “I mean, it is. For now. But…” She waves it off like it’s not important. “Tonight is about you and your sexy silver fox, not me.”
I laugh at her description of Micah, even as worry tugs at the edges of my consciousness. Wherever he is, whatever dangerous situation he’s navigating, I have to trust in his ability to handle it. Have to believe he’ll return to me as promised.
“To complicated relationships.” Olivia raises her glass in a toast. “And the men worth worrying about.”
I clink my glass against hers, letting the rich wine and good company ease some of my anxiety.
She’s right. Loving Micah comes with inherent risks, but the depth of connection we’ve found makes those risks worthwhile.
All I can do is support him in whatever ways he needs, trust in his capabilities, and be here when he returns.
Micah has given me so much—safety, protection, a chance to rediscover myself beyond the shadows of Lucas’s abuse. The least I can do is offer him the same unwavering support in return.
The burner phone buzzes on the side table, drawing our attention. Micah’s name appears on the screen, sending my heart into my throat as I reach for it. The message is brief.
Micah
All good. Miss you.
Two simple sentences ease some of my worry, while intensifying other emotions. He’s safe enough to text, but the brevity suggests he can’t say more. Can’t reveal whatever situation he’s dealing with in Columbus.
Olivia watches as I type a quick response, her expression knowing.
Naomi
Miss you too. Be careful.
“See? He’s thinking of you even in the middle of whatever’s happening. That’s the kind of loyalty I was talking about.”
She’s right. Even amid what must be a dangerous situation, Micah took time to reassure me and let me know he’s thinking of me. It’s a small gesture that speaks volumes about his feelings, about the depth of our connection.
“Now then,” Olivia declares, trying to distract me from dwelling on worries I can’t control.
“Since we’ve covered the heavy emotional stuff, how about you tell me exactly what you’re planning to do with that lovely lingerie you bought at Violet Confidence the other day?
Because that blush pink set looks absolutely devastating on you. ”
I laugh, grateful for her ability to lighten the mood while still acknowledging the seriousness of my concerns.
This is what true friendship looks like, and I’m grateful to have it. The capacity to navigate both darkness and light, to offer support without judgment, to understand the best help sometimes comes in the form of expensive takeout and inappropriate lingerie discussions.
I lift my glass of wine and smile. “I guess it’s time I figure that out.”