9. Robin #2
"Her name’s Ariel. She’s been coming to the open skates, I think she wants to join."
"Is she any good? I feel so out of the loop after that stupid injury."
“Stupid injury that landed you a handsome, growly, rich guy,” Zella said.
Belle just shrugged and ate another fry.
"She was asking for a job at the rink,” Mel said. “I hired her part time. I’d love to give her more hours, but that’s all I got."
“If she needs any more help I can always use more cleaners, since I’m a businesswoman now,” Belle added.
I smiled at both of them; I couldn’t help it. I had the best friends. I opened my mouth to argue when my phone buzzed. And every woman at the table looked down at the device like moths to a flame.
Traitors.
Micah: How was practice?
My stupid heart did a stupid little thing. It was annoying.
Robin: I survived. Meanwhile Belle remains a public safety concern
His response was swift.
Micah: glad to hear she’s staying consistent
A smile tugged at my mouth before I could stop it, which only made things worse.
"Oh no," Belle said.
I looked up. The entire table was staring.
"What?"
"You're smiling at your phone."
"I smile all the time."
Mel snorted into her drink. "No, you don't."
I ignored them and looked back down at the screen.
At the exact same moment Zella said, "Okay but seriously, have you guys heard about the new axe throwing bar. We should all go."
The table erupted.
"Oh my god yes."
"I've always wanted to throw an axe."
"That feels dangerous."
"Which is why it'll be fun."
I wasn’t even sure who was talking in the conversation exploding around me and the text still glowing on my phone was all I seemed to care about. A weird thought slipped into my brain. I could invite him. It wouldn’t be another date. Just an invitation to come hang out and meet my people.
The thought made something flutter low in my stomach, then immediately made me uncomfortable. Inviting Micah to meet the Reapers felt different. It was like crossing some invisible line, but I did find myself wanting him there.
The drive home from Trixie's should've been quiet. Instead, my phone rang before I'd even made it halfway across town.
Micah's name glowed across the dashboard screen.
I answered in an embarrassingly low amount of rings.
"Hey."
"Hey yourself."
"How was your night?" he asked.
"Violent."
"Successful then."
"Obviously."
His laugh crackled through the speakers and I found myself smiling… again. Seriously, this man was becoming a problem.
"So..." he said before a long pause.
I immediately became suspicious. "What?"
"You sound suspicious,” he said.
"Because you sound suspicious."
"I do not." I could practically hear him grinning.
Then he cleared his throat dramatically. "Would you maybe want to go to a pumpkin patch this weekend?"
I blinked. A pumpkin patch. My first instinct was to mock him. Relentlessly.
What was next? Apple cider? Matching scarves? A Hallmark movie marathon? But surprisingly… I didn't want to mock him. Instead, I found myself smiling. God, I was tired of smiling. It was getting worse.
"A pumpkin patch?" I asked.
"Yes."
"That's your big plan?"
"Don't ruin this for me."
I laughed softly. And it came out fond instead of sarcastic… weird. "Okay."
A beat.
"Okay?"
"Yeah."
His relief was rapid. "Excellent.”
The conversation drifted after that but remained easy and natural.
By the time I got home, we were talking about music. As I changed into pajamas, we'd moved onto favorite bands. And when I climbed into bed with my phone plugged into the charger beside me, we'd somehow reached the topic of our first concerts.
"My mom took me to see Shania Twain when I was ten," I admitted.
Micah hummed. "That's incredible."
"It was pretty good… not that I would admit it now."
"Mine was They Might Be Giants."
I laughed. "That is the most Micah answer possible."
"What does that mean?"
"It means your tattoo sleeve absolutely checks out."
His groan made me smile into my pillow. Then somehow that led into childhood stories. We ran the gamut from summer vacations to school activities.
"I did Girl Scouts forever," I said.
"Oh really?"
"What?"
"You sold cookies, didn't you?"
"I did, and was incredibly successful, I should add."
"You were a tiny capitalist."
"I earned a bow."
His laughter echoed warmly through the phone. "A bow?"
"Not like a hair bow. Archery you asshole."
"That makes more sense. Although I’m a little scared of Robbin’ Banks with a weapon."
"I was terrifying."
"I believe that."
The conversation continued wandering aimlessly through memories. It was so comfortable it was hard to believe we'd known each other for only a week.
Then Micah said, "I mostly did church camps."
My stomach tightened. The words hit harder than they should've. He continued before I could respond.
"Every summer. VBS. Retreats. Youth camps. You name it."
Something in his tone shifted. It was like he was about to say more, maybe explain it further, but I wasn't listening anymore.
Because suddenly I was thinking about Lila and Lantern House again.
I could only see two eighteen years old and crying on a shelter porch because they thought love was supposed to be enough.
The silence stretched.
"Robin?"
I swallowed. "Sorry."
"You okay?"
No… But somehow I found myself talking anyway. The darkness of my bedroom cocooned me, making me feel safer somehow. Maybe I could say it without looking at him.
"I told you about my first girlfriend."
His voice softened immediately. "Lila."
"Yeah."
I rolled onto my back and stared at the ceiling. "Her parents found out about us. Well, when my best friend told them, but anyway…"
The words still hurt even now, all these years later.
"She went to church with them every Sunday. Believed everything they taught her." My throat tightened. "And then one day, she didn't have a home anymore."
The silence on the other end felt heavy.
When Micah finally spoke, his voice sounded rough.
"Robin..."
I squeezed my eyes shut. "I know."
Micah exhaled shakily. "I'm so sorry."
The devastation in his voice startled me. It was like he'd been there, like he'd watched it happen. As if somehow, he'd been the one who failed her.
"It wasn't your fault," I said quietly.
"I know." But he didn't sound convinced. "I just..." He swallowed hard. "Nobody should lose their family because of who they love."
My chest tightened. I could tell he meant every word. There was no qualification or conditions, just certainty.
I pressed my cheek against the pillow.
"That's why I hate the church."
The confession settled between us.
“I get it,” he said simply.
The conversation turned lighter after that. We covered almost everything that night, from our favorite Halloween candy to the existence of Crocs. I even forgave him for the moral depravity of liking pineapple on pizza.
Eventually our voices grew softer and sleepier. The pauses between responses stretched longer and longer.
"You still awake?" I murmured.
A sleepy hum answered me. "Maybe."
I smiled into the darkness.
“Liar.”
A minute later I heard his breathing even out through the phone.
And unexpectedly… I didn't hang up. I just listened. I was warm and safe beneath my blankets. I fell asleep feeling like someone was there with me.