Chapter 34
THIRTY-FOUR
Sun-kissed and happy
MICAH
The sun is warm without being punishing, and the breeze is soft, brushing against my skin, reminding me that this—all of this—is real. The tide rolls in and out with slow, steady kisses against the white sand. It’s like time doesn’t exist here.
We’re in Bora Bora. It’s the dead of winter back home, but here, it’s paradise. Emerald waters. Private shoreline. Sky so blue it looks like a painting. I finally kept my promise and brought Sophie here. She’s curled up beside me on a beach towel, her skin glowing under the sun.
She’s reading a book, one hand resting absently on her thigh, the other lazily flipping the pages. Her hair’s pulled up in one of those soft, messy buns she thinks looks chaotic, but somehow it makes her look like she walked out of a goddamn perfume ad.
I’ve been staring at her for—yeah, at least an hour. Probably more. And I’m not even sorry.
She’s wearing the white swimsuit I got her—one of far too many I ordered, thinking I was being cute. Huge mistake. Every single one looks better than the last, and this one? This one should be illegal.
Thin white straps tie behind her neck, dipping into a tiny bikini top that barely covers her curves.
The fabric clings tight, teasing the edge of a slip with every breath she takes.
The bottoms are just as sinful—low-slung on her hips with narrow side ties that sit like whispers against her skin.
The cut is daring, high on the leg and almost nothing in the back, offering only the illusion of coverage.
In the sun, it’s almost as if the soft white against her pale skin turns translucent, showing flashes of skin that make it impossible to look away.
The whole thing is so overwhelmingly beautiful on her body—like it’s made to be seen, not touched.
But I want to touch. So fucking badly.
She lowers her sunglasses slowly, just enough to peer at me from over the top with those beautiful big brown eyes and that little smile I’d burn cities to protect.
“You’ve been staring at me for an hour, Micah,” she says, amused. “I can’t keep pretending I don’t notice. It’s getting creepy.”
I grin, stretching out like I’ve got some kind of self-control. “You look sexy as fuck in white.”
She snorts. “You said that about the black one. And the blue. And the pink. And the yellow.”
“Not my fault you can pull off every damn color on the color wheel,” I murmur, adjusting how I’m sitting, with a quiet groan. “I’m getting hard again.”
She laughs. That warm, completely unbothered laugh that still knocks the wind out of me. God, I love her like this, sun-kissed and happy.
“Can we wait until after lunch this time?” she teases. “I’m finally getting to the good part in my book.”
I smirk and lean back on my elbows, pretending to behave while I keep watching her. “I like this look on you.”
She peeks at me again. “Yes, I know. You think I look good in everything.”
“Yeah, that too,” I say. “But I meant this—the way you’re carrying yourself now. You’re confident, relaxed—like you’re not bracing for anything anymore. You look so peaceful.”
Her expression softens. She closes the book, bookmark slipping between the pages. “I feel at peace.” She turns so she’s facing me fully. “I didn’t think it could ever be like this. And it’s because of you, Micah. I think I owe you my life.”
I sit up, my chest tightening. “You don’t owe me anything.”
She shakes her head. “You gave me something I never had before—safety, belonging, peace, and a future I actually want. You have no idea what that means to someone like me.”
I swallow hard. “You gave me just as much. More, maybe. You gave me something real worth living for. Someone to come home to. You’re the reason I even care about what tomorrow looks like.”
There’s a quiet moment. She doesn’t look away.
Then she reaches into her beach bag and pulls out that little notebook—the one I’ve seen her write in a hundred times but never dared to open.
She holds it out to me.
“I’ve never been good at saying how I feel,” she says. “I didn’t grow up around people who made it easy to talk. But I wrote it all down, and I want you to read it. I want you to know.”
I stare at it. “Your non-judgy notebook?”
She nods. “Yeah. Start on page seven. It’s the day we were put in the same group. The day we met.”
My hands are a little shaky when I take it. The cover is soft and worn, pages curling slightly at the corners. It smells like her—warm and familiar and deeply Sophie.
I flip to page seven and I read. And then I keep reading. Page after page, day after day, moment after moment.
…He stepped in when I froze at the cafe, when I didn’t know how to make my voice work. Micah didn’t hesitate. He gave me a ride home like it was second nature. Like helping me was the obvious thing to do. And I think he even waited outside during my interview…just to drive me back…
…He didn’t owe me anything. He doesn’t even know me.
…Ever since that day…I find myself looking for him. My eyes scan every room, every sidewalk, hoping he’ll be there.
…Is it really possible…to be loved like this?
…I’m scared. Because when this ends—and in my world, things always end—I’ll have to pick myself back up. But I can do it. I always do.
…There’s this part of me—this aching, hopeful part that wants to trust him. That wants to lean. Just a little.
…Micah has been there in every moment, without asking for recognition. Without making me feel small for needing help. He just shows up. Over and over. And maybe that’s love. Maybe that’s what I’ve never known before.
…I think I’m finally beginning to feel joy. Real, warm, slow-burning joy. Because I have something to look forward to. Someone to look forward to.
…He’s always there. Watching out for me. Loving me in ways I didn’t think I was allowed to be loved. I want to let him carry the burden. Let him protect me. Let myself be chosen.
…Is this what it feels like to be someone’s first thought? To be wanted just for existing? I’ve never been someone’s priority. Never been loved like this.
…I’m free. Free from the people haunting me in my thoughts and my nightmares. I’m not the same anymore. I feel like I can face anything. And I have someone to fall back on.
…I love him. God, I love him. Micah Vale is everything. And somehow…somehow, he’s mine. How did I get so lucky?
Her words are raw and soft and sacred. Pieces of her heart spilled in ink. Things she never said out loud. Things she never thought she could. There are things about Poppy and work and school, but I see so much of my name.
Every line is a piece of her I never knew I needed. And with each one, I fall for her all over again.
Not just for who she is now, but for the girl who survived. For the girl who kept going. For the girl who never asked to be saved, but still somehow saved me.
My throat tightens. I blink up at the ocean, biting the inside of my cheek to keep the tears at bay.
God, I knew I made the right choice. I’m the lucky one. It was always me.
She’s watching me, nervous and beautiful and brave.
I close the notebook gently and slide it to the side.
Then I reach for her, tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, and say:
“Sophie, I love you. More than I’ve ever loved anything. More than I thought I was capable of. You are, without a doubt, the best thing that has ever happened to me.”
Her eyes well with tears.
And when she leans in to kiss me, I know—this is what it feels like to be home.
SOPHIE
The planks are still warm from the sun under our bare feet. We're heading back to the bungalow after a picnic dinner on the beach.
The sky is so beautiful—painted in lavender and rose gold. And I’m full of fresh seafood and mocktails.
“I still can’t believe it,” I murmur. “I’d never even been out of the country before. And now I’m in Bora Bora.”
Micah looks over at me, his thumb brushing over my fingers as he laces them with his.
“You remembered I always wanted to come here.” I say, barely above a whisper.
“I told you I remember everything you tell me,” he says simply.
My heart twists.
“I’ll pay you back for my half,” I add, trying to lighten the weight in my chest. “As soon as I can.”
He stops walking and turns to me, gently but firmly. “Sophie. What’s mine is yours. There’s no paying me back.”
Before I can respond, he tugs open the door to our over-water bungalow and steps aside so I can walk in.
The moment I do, I freeze.
There’s a trail of rose petals leading through the space—candles glowing on every surface, golden and soft. The bed is covered in petals, and the canopy glows in the flickering light, like something out of a dream.
And when I turn around—he’s on one knee.
“Five months ago,” Micah begins, “I didn’t even know your name.
Then all it took was some guy bothering you while you were working, for me to step in.
I don’t know what came over me—I didn’t even know you.
But I wanted to drive you to your interview.
And you were right—I waited for you to be done.
I played chauffeur to a girl I had just met. ”
He smiles, but there’s something fierce behind it. “And I think I knew even then—on that very first day—that you were meant to be mine.”
My chest tightens.
“And now,” he continues, eyes locked on mine. “I’ll do whatever is humanly possible to keep you safe.” His voice lowers, softer now. “Five months ago, I didn’t even know your name. But now, you’re written into every version of my future.”
He takes a breath, almost like he needs to steady himself. “I know this is fast. I know you might be scared. You might be wondering what happens if things go wrong? What if you lose everything again?”
I feel the sting in my throat, because—yeah. I won’t admit it to him, but that exact thought lives in the back of my mind.
“But here’s the thing,” he says. “I thought about this. Luke’s right. The best way to keep you safe—truly safe—is to make sure no one, not even my father, can touch you.”
He pauses, then smiles crookedly. “And no one, especially him, messes with a Vale.”
“So become one,” he says gently. “Be mine, Sophie. Marry me.”
My breath catches.
He holds up a small velvet box—simple on the outside, but inside, the ring catches the light like it was dipped in starlight. It’s bold, brilliant, and impossible to ignore—just like the way I love him.
“No prenup. What’s mine is yours. Legally. All of it. You’ll never have to worry about housing, or scholarships, or anything my father tries to dangle over your head.”
Then, with a spark of that signature Micah grin, “And if you ever leave me, you get half my money. I’m aware I’m making a very bad deal here.”
A teary laugh escapes me.
His thumb brushes my cheek.
“But there’s a small catch,” he says, voice quieter now. “If you say yes—and I'm hoping to God you do—it can't be the big wedding. Not yet, anyways.”
I search his face, and I can see that there’s something guarded in his expression. “Is everything okay?”
He's quiet for a moment, like he's choosing his words carefully.
“My father—the way he sees things, marriage is a business arrangement. An alliance. A deal. It has nothing to do with love and everything to do with what benefits the Vale name.” His jaw tightens.
“I want nothing to do with that. I never have.
But men like him don't have a line they won't cross to get what they want.
And now that he knows about you—“ he pauses, mouth curving slightly, “—which, to be fair, is entirely my own fault.
Apparently I wasn't exactly subtle about being completely obsessed with you last semester.”
I let out a breath that's almost a laugh.
“But that means he's been watching,” he continues, voice settling back into something more serious. “And I can't let him use you to get to me, Sophie. I won't.”
“What does that mean?” I ask softly.
“It means he will find ways to make your life difficult if he thinks you're an obstacle.
Your scholarship. Your housing. Your future.
He's already made threats.” His eyes don't waver from mine.
“But a wife is different. He won't touch my wife—a Vale. Even he has enough respect for that boundary. Leonard Vale would never hurt another Vale.”
The weight of it settles over me slowly.
“Micah.” My voice comes out smaller than I want it to. “I don't want to come between you and your father. I don't want to be the reason things get worse between you two, or cause problems for your family, or—“
“Hey.” His hands tighten gently around my face. “Look at me.”
I do.
“You are not a problem to be managed. You are not something I need to protect my family from.” His voice is steady, certain. “If anything, I need to protect you from him. And I know how to do that. I just need you to trust me.”
“I do trust you,” I whisper. “I just—what if this makes things harder for you?”
He almost smiles. “Let me worry about that.
That's my job.” His thumb traces along my cheekbone.
“I promise you a real wedding. The dress, the flowers, all of it.
Whenever you're ready, however you want it.
But I need you safe first. I need this first, and I need to know you're mine in every way that counts—legally, completely, for good, and as soon as possible.”
He searches my eyes.
“So,” he says softly. “Will you trust me? Will you marry me, Sophie?”
I nod through the tears. “Yes,” I breathe. “Of course I will.”
He kisses me like he’s sealing something sacred. Then, before I can blink, he lifts me into his arms with ease and starts walking toward the bed.
“This fucking white bikini,” he mutters like he’s already lost the fight.
I laugh against his neck.
He lowers me onto the bed, his hands already at my sides, and his fingers brushing beneath the delicate ties. His gaze flicks up to mine for a second—like he’s giving me time to stop him. But of course, I don’t.
Slowly, he pulls one string loose. Then the other.
My breath catches as his knuckles trace unhurriedly along my skin.
“Sophie Vale,” he whispers, leaning in, his lips grazing mine, “you will be the death of me.”
I pull him closer before he can think twice, my hands tangling in his shirt, and when his mouth finally claims mine again, there’s nothing careful left in it.
If this is what it feels like to be loved, let it consume me.