Chapter 32
THIRTY-TWO
I can't believe you're all mine
MICAH
Sophie brings out a protectiveness in me I didn’t even know I had.
Maybe I just never had anyone to protect.
Maybe there was nothing I truly wanted—until her.
Before Sophie, I was basically running on autopilot.
Doing well in school, being the perfect son, living up to the Vale name.
Going through the motions. Hooking up with girls just for fun, with no meaning.
But the day I met her, everything changed. She changed me. Suddenly, I had a reason. A reason to care about more than legacy and performance. A reason to want the future I’ve always been told I’m supposed to want.
Sophie gave my life purpose. It’s not just a routine anymore. It’s unpredictable. Real. Like waking up next to the most beautiful girl on the planet—I’ll never get used to that.
This morning, she made us breakfast, and holy shit, she can cook. She said it's because she's been taking care of herself since she was a kid, and yeah, that probably has something to do with it. But honestly, I think it's because there's nothing this girl can't do.
I'm slipping my shoes on by the front door when I hear her behind me. “Where are you going?”
I turn. For a second, the old instinct kicks in—I'll handle it, don't worry, just trust me. I know exactly what I'd have said a month ago. I'd have been gone before she even woke up.
But we're past that.
“I'm going to Silver Pine,” I say. The place her stepfather is staying. “I need to make sure there's absolutely no chance of him ever coming near you again.” I pause. “But I want your permission first. If that's okay with you?”
She lets out a breath, almost like she didn't realize she'd been holding it. “Thank you,” she says softly. “For asking me this time.”
“Yeah.” I hold her gaze. “I’m sorry it took so long.”
She looks at me, quiet. Then, “What are you going to do?”
“I'm going to take care of it,” I tell her. “Make sure he goes back to Illinois and never shows up in front of you again.”
She looks at me for a long moment.
“I want to come.”
“You want to—what?”
She nods. “I'll be safe if you're with me. And I want to be there. When it ends. For good.”
“Are you sure?” I search her face. She's scared, but she's also determined.
“I'm sure. As long as you're with me.”
We drive out to the Silver Pine Inn just as the sky starts to dim. It’s exactly what I pictured—an old, run-down roadside motel off the highway, with a neon sign flickering above the office.
I park in front of Room 12 and knock.
The door opens. A woman stands in the frame. Her features look like Sophie’s, only worn down, lifeless. Rougher. Greyer. She looks at me, then at Sophie. “Sophie, dear. I was going to go see you with Mark today.”
This must be her mom.
Sophie stiffens beside me. I feel her inch closer. She didn’t expect this.
I know from Nico that this woman reaches out to Sophie occasionally—for money. Thousands at a time. And if she’s here, good. I can put an end to that too.
The room smells like a liquor cabinet gone bad. There are bottles everywhere—counter, table, floor.
She then eyes me. “Who’s this?”
Before Sophie can answer, I step forward. “I’m Sophie’s boyfriend.”
She raises her brows. “Janine,” she says, offering a thin smile.
Then the bathroom door creaks open.
And he steps out—Mark. His face is bruised, and a dark, satisfied part of me is proud that it was my girl who did that to him.
His eyes land on Sophie, and my fists clench before the thought even fully forms.
I don’t give him a chance to speak. I surge forward and drive my fist straight into his jaw.
He stumbles back, crashing into the dresser, a groan tearing from his throat as he tries to stay upright.
I hit him again. Harder.
“Only a weak excuse for a man would ever lay a hand on a woman.” My voice is low, shaking with fury. “Her face. Her arm. And God knows where else.”
Another punch.
“And this—” I snarl, closing the distance, and lay another one on his face. “—this will never be enough for the years of hell you put her through.”
Janine is screaming behind us. “Stop! Stop it! Sophie, make him stop!”
Mark coughs, blood at his lip. “I don’t know what that girl told you, but it’s all lies!”
Then he spits something vile. “The last time I saw her, she was with some blonde boy. Told you, Janine. Your girl’s a slut. She’s been trying to get in my pants since the day you and I got married. Taking advantage of me when I was drunk—”
Rage blinds me. I grab him by the shirt and slam him back against the wall. “What the fuck did you just say, you lying piece of shit?”
Sophie’s voice cuts through the fog. “Micah—please stop. It’s okay. He got the idea.”
Janine turns to her, wild-eyed. “I wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt—but I can’t believe you’d do this to me.”
“Mom!” Sophie says, horrified. “He’s lying—”
Janine’s hand cracks across Sophie’s face. “All these years? You couldn’t find your own? Seems like you’re slutting your way through school just fine. Did you just want what was mine?”
Red floods my vision.
Sophie straightens, eyes burning. “After everything he did to me—and to you—you don’t even ask for my side of the story before blaming me?
” Her voice wavers but doesn’t break. “I came here to make sure he never comes near me again. But I’m glad you’re here.
So I can tell you that I’m doing the same with you.
I’m changing my number, and I never want to hear from either of you again.
If you do, I’ll file a restraining order. ”
I punch Mark again, harder than before. “This is because I can’t hit a woman,” I snarl, pointing to his wife. Then I shove him to the ground and turn to Sophie, stepping between her and Janine.
“You ever lay a hand on her again,” I growl, “and I swear to God, it’ll be the last thing you do. Both of you.”
I glare at Janine. “Your husband has a record. Strip clubs he used to visit? They’ve got reports. He had a thing for girls the moment they turned eighteen.”
I turn to Mark. “You’re getting your ass back to Illinois. Your parole officer already got a tip. You’re a walking violation.”
Then I look back at Janine. “And you? You’ll never contact Sophie again. Not a text. Not a voicemail. Not a letter. You won’t ask her for a single cent ever again. I’ll have you arrested if you do.”
She opens her mouth to argue, but I don’t let her. “I’ve got enough dirt to bury you. If I need more, I’ll plant it. Test me.”
I glance down at Mark, shaking and furious on the floor. “And you. If you so much as enter the same state as Sophie again, I’ll have you dragged back to prison and locked away for life. Run. Try me. I’ll find you.”
I take Sophie’s hand. “We’re done here.”
She’s still frozen and wide-eyed, but she nods. I guide her out, slam the door behind us, and don’t look back.
At the car, I open the door for her. She slides in silently, eyes dazed, body moving without her. I close it gently, circle around, and slide into the driver’s seat. I’m still buzzing with rage, but I keep my hands steady on the wheel.
We don’t say anything else. I shift the car into drive, and we pull away from that shitty motel—the stench, the shouting, the past she’s finally walking away from. That part of her life is over now.
She leans her head against the window, arms crossed tightly over her chest. I glance at her every few minutes. Her expression is unreadable, but she’s breathing. She’s here and she’s safe.
The drive is quiet. No music—just the sound of the road beneath us and the occasional clicks of the turn signal. I don’t even know where I’m going, only that I need to get her away.
Eventually, I pull into a small, empty restaurant parking lot a few miles out of town.
I put the car in park and cut the engine. The silence deepens.
She doesn’t move. She’s still looking out the window. I wait.
I turn to her, and the sight of her stings. Her cheek is red where Janine hit her. I reach over and brush my hand softly along her skin. “You okay?” I ask, my voice low.
She nods, but it’s quiet. “Yeah.” A pause. “Thank you.”
Then her eyes lift to mine. “What dirt do you have on her?”
“Nothing,” I admit. “I was bluffing. But I’d find something if I had to. So don’t worry.”
She nods again, looking out the window for a second again before turning back to me. “How did you know about my mom asking for money? Or the strip clubs? Were you bluffing about that too?”
I reach for her hand and hold it between both of mine.
“No. I wasn’t.” I exhale slowly. “I was going to tell you eventually, but after I met you, there was just something in your eyes. I could tell you were carrying the weight of something. And I couldn’t stop thinking about it.
I needed to understand—I was worried and wanted to help.
So I looked into you. I think I just wanted to be someone who could protect you.
” A beat. “But that wasn't my call to make either.” I pause, and she looks up at me.
“Going behind your back like that, learning things about you that you hadn't chosen to tell me—that wasn't protecting you.
That was just me deciding, again, that I knew better.
But I didn't.” I exhale. “I won't do that again. Ever.”
It’s quiet.
“There's something else,” I say, before she can say anything.
She looks at me.
“I knew Mark was out. I knew he was in Massachusetts.
Nico had a tracker set up. I found out he'd been spotted near your building.” I keep my voice even, but it costs me.
“I was going to tell you. I kept almost telling you.
But every time I got close, I thought about the panic attacks, how hard you'd worked to get to a place where you could breathe again, and I told myself I'd handle it before it ever got that far.” I pause.
“I was so sure I could protect you. I had a plan.
And then I had a goddamn exam, and I told myself you'd wait for me, that I'd be back early and we'd go together and it would be fine.”
I look down at our joined hands.
“But it wasn't fine. And that's on me. I'm sorry, Sophie. I'm so, so sorry.”
She's quiet for a moment. I don't fill it this time.
“You should have told me,” she says finally.
“I know.”
She exhales slowly. “I would have been scared,” she says. “But I would have been careful. I would have waited.”
“I know that too.” I press my thumb over her knuckles. “I was trying to protect you from being afraid. But I took something from you that wasn't mine to take—the choice.”
I don't say anything else. There's nothing left to say.
She's quiet, and I feel it then—the pressure building behind my eyes. The kind I haven't felt since I was a kid. I look away, jaw tight, staring at the steering wheel like it might help.
It doesn't.
“Micah.”
Her voice is soft. I feel her hand come up to my face before I can stop her, turning me gently toward her. Her thumb brushes just below my eye.
“Hey,” she says. Just that.
I let out a slow breath through my nose. “I keep thinking about what if,” I say, my voice rough. “What could've happened. What almost—“ I stop. Shake my head. “I had one job.”
“You had a lot of jobs,” she says quietly. “You've been carrying all of this for months. Alone.”
“That was my choice.”
“I know.” She doesn't move her hand. “But you're allowed to put it down now.”
Another silence.
“It's done now,” she says quietly. “He's gone. You're here. I'm okay.” She squeezes my hand once, firm and certain. “We're okay.”
And the way she says it—as a fact more than just reassurance—is the thing that finally loosens the knot in my chest.
She settles back against her seat, and for a moment we just sit in the quiet together.
Then she says, softly, “I don't even know how to thank you for everything.” Now she’s the one looking down at our joined hands.
“Not just tonight. All of it. You dropped into my life and just—stayed. You made me feel like my life could actually be more than survival.” A small, fragile laugh. “Which is a lot to put on one person.”
I give her hand a gentle squeeze. “It's not much at all,” I say quietly, “when it's for you.” I pause. “Because I love you. A lot.”
She rolls her eyes, but that beautiful smile finally breaks through. “You really have no idea what you’ve done for me, do you?” she says softly. Her voice is quiet but certain. She leans in just a little, eyes locked on mine. “I can't believe you're all mine.”
And yeah—I'm gone.