Chapter 16
Abuzz remains in the air in the days after our visit to the beach. And not just because there’s now a cardboard box of little fluffs living in Olli’s room. Our adventure at the lakeside keeps creeping back into my mind when I least expect it.
And it must be on Micah’s as well because I catch him looking at me more often than before. Even when the others are around, at the dinner table or in the mornings when everyone sets out to their training sessions and work.
I enjoy the attention. But even more than that, I enjoy the tingle of our shared secret, the way it lingers inside of me for hours after we’ve parted. So it’s no surprise when, while I’m washing the cups and glasses I let pile up in my room, Micah steps up behind me.
Flinching, I quickly look over my shoulder into the empty living room, as if our roommates could teleport in from wherever they are.
At least I know exactly where Olli is—upstairs in his room with his tiny patients, along with Davenport, who, surprisingly, seems deeply invested in the kittens.
Coming over at least once a day to check on them.
There had been a few hours, right after we had gotten the kittens off the beach and hurried to the pound, all five of us—a grim-looking Sasha, a murderous Davenport, Olli with the kittens, and Micah and me—crammed into my truck, that I was worried the tiny animals might not make it.
But Barb assured us that as long as they were fed every two hours, kept warm and dry, they would be fine.
I know there’s always a risk with young animals, but it’s what Davenport and Olli especially needed to hear.
And they both have come to a silent agreement to protect their rescues with their lives.
Though in Olli’s case, it’s more with his life and quarters, since our landlord was very clear about not allowing any animals when Nicko and I first established the Nook.
So, in a couple of weeks, once the kittens are old enough, they’ll have to quickly find new homes before any of us get thrown out.
“Don’t worry, they’re still upstairs,” Micah whispers next to my ear, his breath tickling my neck. “And they probably will be for the next hour if we let them.”
I chuckle, allowing myself to lean back against Micah’s chest while I polish the last glass, setting it carefully into the drying rack before I wipe my hands on a towel. Only then do I reach behind myself to run a hand down his thigh.
“Wasn’t there enough excitement for you this week?” I quip. I can't deny the gentle tug on my nerves to be this close out in the open.
Micah laughs, then nudges my cheek with his nose. “I mean…it's kinda hot.”
My eyebrows fly up and I twist at the waist to look at him. His lips are curling with a teasing but honest grin, and his eyes are glowing with real heat.
“Are…you're serious.”
“Absolutely!” Micah’s hands wander over my hips, to my sides, one coming up to feel up my chest.
I bite my lip, feeling heat follow his motions, but my stomach still flutters, unable to forget that we’re not alone in the house.
Micah must sense it, because he slows down. He doesn’t break contact, though. “Honestly, I just really wanted to remind you that we said we were going to do a repeat since I didn’t get to do a certain thing…”
There isn’t a lot of room for shame under the intensity of his gaze, but I still blush.
“Oh yeah? I mean, I got off just fine without you.” The teasing comes lightly and freely, surprising me. “Guess I really underestimated my skills.” I turn for a moment to dry my hands on a dish towel, making sure to appear entirely consumed by the task before I look up at him.
Micah just raises a brow at my smirk and then grabs the counter left and right from me, boxing me in. “And how am I supposed to learn anything like this?”
I laugh at Micah’s pout, arching my back to lean away just a bit.
“Ah, right, I knew I was forge—” I break off when Micah presses close, so we’re chest to chest. Heat radiates through his clothes and seeps right into me. My eyes involuntarily stray over to the stairs. Everything stays quiet except for my heart pounding in my ears.
When I look back, I find Micah’s eyes waiting for me. He winks with the blue one, then tips my chin up to kiss me.
Our lips meet, soft and warm and perfect. When I tilt my head, Micah follows, tentatively deepening the contact. I can feel his hands wander from my sides to my hips, one aiming for my front, wanting to make sure he’ll get there before—
Something vibrates against my leg. Micah's head snaps up. He looks at me in question, but I’m too dazed to make sense of it until he sticks his hand into the front pocket of my pants.
“Ah, and here I thought you were just that happy to see me,” he snorts, holding up my vibrating cell phone.
“Oh for…just, press it away. I'll text—”
“Yeah, just…oh shit!” He suddenly holds the cell out toward me, and I only catch a glimpse of the screen, reading my sister's name. The call is already connected.
“I…yeah? Hi?” I quickly snatch my phone against my ear. My other hand covers my mouth to stifle a laugh when I see Micah's panicked face.
He ducks his head against my shoulder, snickering. It tickles and now I'm really pressed not to start giggling.
“Hey, lil bro, sounds like you're having a good day,” Aspen says on the other end of the line.
She sounds cheerful, but I immediately detect the strain in her voice.
I briefly check the time on my screen, since she has two kids and another on the way, nine p.m. might be a different time to her altogether.
“Yeah, you know, college life,” I reply, chewing on my lower lip. Turning my head, I look to where Micah's chin is propped up on my shoulder, his eyes now shining with humor.
“Tell me about it,” she prompts.
“We were at the beach the other day,” I start recounting the first thing that jumps into my head.
“Had a beach volleyball tournament, well, I mean, like kinda. But it was fun! I won, sorta, and uhm…yeah, it was fun.” There’s another notable thing that happened, but I bite my tongue—especially as Micah wiggles his brows.
I put my hand over his face, playfully pushing him away.
“Olli, one of my roommates, found some kittens there. Someone wanted to drown them. Can you imagine?”
“That's good, that's good,” Aspen comments absentmindedly, making my brows raise.
“And then last weekend I got blackout drunk and smoked ten joints!”
“Mhm.”
“You're not even listening, Pen,” I accuse, rolling my eyes at Micah, who's biting his knuckles to keep from laughing out loud. At least someone got my joke. “Stop being polite and tell me why you're calling.”
“Ugh, I was just…” Aspen takes a deep breath. “Have you talked to Mom recently?” My sister's voice is tinny because of her poor connection. It also sounds farther away than it really is because of Micah’s mouth wandering along my neck.
“Yeah, just a few days ago.” I breathe in and out carefully to keep my voice level, then put my hand on his chest and give him a gentle but warning push.
Micah smirks.
“She asked about my classes, said Dad's doing the most again; that was it,” I recount briefly to gather my thoughts.
“She didn't say anything about the help?”
“Uh, no? Just that they had some trouble finding any this year, but that they'd be fine and not to worry.”
“Of course she said that.” My sister groans, her voice now much crisper. She must have walked to a different room with a better connection.
Now halfway to alarmed, I shake my head at Micah and stand up straighter when he pulls back, his brows drawn together. My fingers tense around my phone as I press it against my ear.
“Why, what's going on?”
Aspen sighs again, then clears her throat.
My neck prickles. I can practically see my sister puff herself up: arms crossed, brows drawn low, mouth set in a disapproving line, head held high—claiming her right as the oldest sister to tell everyone what to do.
“It's not all fine. I've been there the entire last week, Jason too, but we can't keep doing it. I know what you're gonna say, but Mom and Dad need you, Lind.”
I blink, shake my head, then blink again.
Quickly, I cover the phone's speaker.
“Sorry, can you give me a minute? Family stuff.” I grimace at Micah, who nods without hesitation. He steps back to give me enough room so I can squeeze past him toward the stairs.
Just before I can slip away, his fingers close around my wrist to stop me. “Holler if you need me. I'll be right here.” Micah nods over at the couch.
I mouth a silent “Thank you” and then press the phone back against my ear, hurrying up the steps and closing the door to my room behind me.
“What do you mean, they need me? How bad?” A wave of guilt washes over me. I should have listened more closely when my mom called. Should have asked more questions. I should have reached out to my sisters and checked in more thoroughly about the harvest.
But in the last few days, I was just so busy and—no. I was selfish because I was having fun. I could have shot them a text. I pace up and down in front of my bed, chewing on my lower lip.
“It's not the apocalypse,” Pen says, but continues right away.
“The cherries are ready for harvesting already, not to mention the cows need more attention because of all this heat, and we had trouble finding extra hands lately, so yeah, Dad's been doing it all by himself. I don’t want him to burn out.” Her voice is so thick with brimming tears that I have to clear my throat in sympathy.
“Jesus, of course he is,” I huff, finally sinking down on my bed, pushing my head into my free hand.
It's not that I can't go; my parents' farm is only a few hours away. It’d only take a day of getting ready and driving there.
I can finish my summer courses online; it's just the most recent developments that I'll have to give up.
Getting laid is a lot less important than my father's health, though.
“Alright, I…I can be there in two days. Can you hold out until then?”
“Of course, Lind. Thank you,” Aspen says gently.