Chapter 29
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
I fucked that up. I royally fucked that up.
I think the steps are tilting because I stumble into the wall going up them. I barely feel it. All I can feel is Micah. His lips, his body, his all-consuming presence that sucks the air out of the room. He’s addicting. Intoxicating.
That fills my stomach with dread because this is how Arthur felt at first. And now I feel Arthur’s hands caressing my body. The warmth of us laughing together. The pressure of his fingers around my neck. The confusion mixed with pain.
I think I’m going to get sick.
We get upstairs, and I think it’s Micah who’s touching me. Helping me stand. I have to get him off of me. I can’t let him see me get sick.
“I’ll be okay,” I mumble, pushing him away when we reach the bathroom.
Micah’s hands are so sticky, they don’t want to let go. Touching, hot, soft. Soft and strong, I want them on more of me.
No!
With herculean strength, I rip myself away and shut the bathroom door. I stumble to the bathroom, immediately splashing cold water on my face. The shock pulls me out of the swirling a bit.
From outside the door, he asks, “Mads? You okay?”
I drop my head onto my hands on the sink.
He sounds so concerned. So genuine. I hate myself because in this moment, I want to believe that he is.
But I can’t. I can’t. He’d win, and I’d lose yet again, only this time I get the weirdest feeling that it would be much, much worse.
That this time, when I lie on the linoleum struggling to breathe, I won’t leave.
That I’ll stay just to hear Micah’s laugh, just to see that look he gave me earlier, like I hung the moon and the stars.
Even if it was fake, I want to see it again.
“I’m okay,” I say. I need Micah to go away. The longer he’s out there, the more I’m convincing myself that if I just open the door, he’ll give me that look again. Like he cares.
The spinning is back, and I plop onto the floor. My spot on bathroom floors is reserved for life, it seems.
“Do you need help?” There’s a note of panic in Micah’s voice.
“No.” I drop my head back against the wall. Help is the last thing he should be offering. Because if he sticks around for long enough, I’ll take it, consequences be damned.
I think I hear Micah slide against the wall and sit down, but I’m too tired to move. It’s like every limb is filled with lead, but at the same time, all kinds of strong feelings rush through me. Fear, desire, shame. I drank to avoid these things, and yet they’ve caught up to me.
Fuck. I’m never drinking again.
I must pass out because I’m opening my eyes and I don’t remember shutting them. For a second, I don’t remember where I am. Then my mouth is dry, so dry, and I peel my aching body off the floor. The bathroom floor. Right. Because I almost lost my mind.
I get a drink out of the sink. What time is it? I have to work early.
I creep out of the bathroom and almost trip over a soft form in front of the door.
“Mads?” A sleepy voice asks.
I jump straight up, whirling to face the form that is Micah, lying on the floor. Panic laces through me.
He slept on the floor? Is he keeping tabs on me? Why didn’t he get bored and go watch TV?
Danger. Danger. This is a play that I don’t understand. Does this mean he has some sort of advantage over me?
My face burns. I’m weak. Alcohol makes me weak.
“I…I’m going to bed,” I say hesitantly. Is he going to fight me on it? Slam me into the wall? Or mock me for getting so drunk I passed out, following me to my room and shoving through the door when I try to shut it?
I should just leave, go sleep in my car. I look at my escape route in the dim hallway, heart racing.
“Oh, okay, sure,” Micah’s sleepy voice says. He’s halfway sitting up, acting stiff. Stiff like he wouldn’t be able to chase me if I ran.
And so I do. The bedroom is closer, so I dart there and shut the door, but at the last second, I close it softly so he doesn’t take the slam as a challenge. Then quietly, ever so quietly, I lock the door, then back away in case he throws his whole body at it.
There’s a brief silence, then I hear rustling and a quiet groan.
I brace, looking around the room for something to hit him with. I’m not going to take it quietly this time, goddamn it. I’m going to fight.
Only, the door stays quiet.
My heart is fluttering faster than normal, and I feel unsteady.
Then, I hear his voice murmuring in his room, then silence.
What the hell?
I don’t get any more sleep. I’m up all night, waiting restlessly for Micah to do something, coming up with every possible angle he’s working.
And when the gray light starts to peek over the horizon, I leave the house, pissed and exhausted.
Because the angle that makes the most sense is the least probable one–that Micah left me alone because I asked him to.
He has to be trying to create a false sense of safety.
But every time I think that, I think about the way he parted his lips for me.
That moment where he let go of control. Let me lead.
Why in the hell would he do that?
I get to Mr. Parker’s hours early, and I just sit in my car, waiting for my shift to start. Shamefully, all I can do is replay last night, my dick hard as stone. No matter what I do, I can’t get it to come down. All I can think is Micah, Micah, Micah.
I take care of Mr. Parker in a blur. It feels like both the longest and the shortest shift, with moments of pure agony thinking about how I’ve failed. How I’ve lost my own game.
And yet, nothing bad happened. Yet, anyway. It will. I know it will. Right? It has to.
By the time I’ve gone out to my car, I’m exhausted. I barely register the slam of a car door as I unlock my car. I slide into the driver’s seat just as the passenger door opens, and a large form slides into my car.
I suck in a breath as none other than Arthur, with his graying hair and a Cleveland Guardians hoodie, grins at me.
“You don’t answer my calls.”
Panic floods my system, freezing me in place. Arthur is here. Arthur is here.
I glance at my door, but Arthur clocks my eye movement. He snaps a hand out, grabbing my arm. “I just wanna talk.” I know I should feel his grip, but I’m numb.
For a second, I consider doing something absolutely stupid.
I consider ripping my arm away and screaming at him.
Screaming that we’re done and to get the fuck out of my car.
But as I turn my hate-filled gaze on Arthur, his eyes light up with a mean look.
A look I know all too well. A look that means I’m playing right into his game.
“Gonna hit me, baby?” he asks in a mocking tone, excitement lacing his words. “Gonna fucking hit me?”
No, because he’ll just hit me harder.
Arthur squeezes so tight that now I feel the pain. It lances through my arm, and I suck in a breath.
“Where’s that money you stole?”
“I’m working on it,” I grit my teeth.
Arthur pulls me closer, his breath hot. “You stole from me. I should report you to the cops. But you know what?” He lets go of my arm, and I suck in a breath until his hand snaps to my neck.
“I’m not like you. I don’t betray the people I claim to love.
” Arthur squeezes hard and presses in, pain immediately blooming in my neck along with panic.
It’s happening again, and I’m not doing anything to protect myself.
I scramble to rip his hand off me, scratching at his skin and arching my back, but he doesn’t let up. Instead, he squeezes harder, and my vision starts to go fuzzy.
“So I won’t. Yet, anyway. Give me what you owe me, and you won’t have to worry about it.”
Then he lets go, and I suck in huge lungfuls of air, my heart racing.
“Don’t keep me waiting.”
And then he’s gone. Arthur is gone?
I glance around to see him walking back to a car I hadn’t seen before. He left? Why did he leave?
I breathe heavily, panic zipping through my veins. I should have seen this coming. What did I miss? How did I miss it?
With shaky hands, I put the keys in my ignition.
It takes a few attempts to turn the key, and slowly, so slowly, I drive off. Only then do I think to check for Arthur’s car to see if he’s following me.
It’s not there.
What the hell?
I blink once, staring at the passenger seat. Empty.
I look in the seat behind me, then yank my gaze back to the road.
I’m alone. Arthur can’t get me.
Warm hot pain blooms up my arm and through my neck. My throat squeezes, cutting off my air, and I suck in breath after breath. I should have seen this. Should have known he’d come after me. Since when did Arthur ever let me get away with anything?
The fear turns to anger, and I slam my palm into the steering wheel. What the actual fuck is wrong with me? I was too busy playing Micah’s game. I should have run. Should have gotten out and run or, better yet, fought him. Why the hell do I always just…sit there?
Because I’m always one move behind. Always. One move behind when Dad would beat my ass, and one move behind with Arthur. This just confirms it; I have to be one move behind with Micah, too. That stupid idea I had in my head of him being nice is just that–stupid, and it’ll get me hurt.
My throat is so tight I know I’m about to cry.
So how the fuck did Arthur find me? That’s the move I let slide. Suddenly, it hits me. Arthur is the RN who treats Mr. Parker. He could probably easily find out who helps him at home as part of his treatment plan. And Arthur knows what I do for a living and who I work for.
I sink further into my seat. I’ll never be safe. Arthur will always find me. Danger will always find me.
I make it back to Micah’s place, then stare blankly at the townhouse. I’m not ready for round two. I’m weak. I’m not fucking ready.
And yet, I can’t sleep in my car. Arthur will find me and kill me.
Then another terrifying thought hits me. What if Arthur finds out about Micah? He’ll kill both of us. I know without a shadow of a doubt. Arthur hated it when I even looked at another man. If he knew another man was out to take his place?
The thought sends so much panic into me that I buffer for a bit, staring at the driveway. Does Micah know how to fight? Although it doesn’t really matter, Arthur is big and stays one step ahead all the time. Sometimes one step is all that matters.
I lean back in my seat, realizing that Arthur will always be a problem for me.
At least until I pay my debt, but more than likely after, too.
Which means he’ll always be a problem for Micah if he thinks Micah is after his property.
Which will piss Micah off, which means I’ll have two people after me.
I feel a shroud of doom cover me. I can’t put myself in that spot. I can’t handle both of them at once. I won’t escape it this time.
Then the door opens, and Micah is there holding Princess back from an epic escape. I feel numbness creep over my entire body.
None of us are safe.