“You are not screwing anything up, Chuck Carson,” Micah says with a little laugh. There's a nervous warble to it that I've never heard before. I'm used to him being the confident, cocky one. Slowly, I pull back and look up into his face. There's a confession resting there that I know I need to hear. Instead of pressing for it though, I just wait. Sometimes people need to come to you in their own time. “It was me that screwed things up with Tobias. He's never gotten over the Amber thing.”
Micah takes a step back, and I realize that we're not going to have sex, not right now. He needs to talk. I move over to the sink, brush my teeth while he chuckles at me, and then slap him in the chest.
“Stop that. I'm super self-conscious of my breath, okay? Nobody wants to kiss a morning mouth or a coffee mouth or—” Micah steps forward and eloquently sweeps one arm around my waist, cupping the back of my head with his other hand. He cuts me off midsentence with a kiss that I can feel down to my toes. They curl against the pebbled floor as I grab onto the front of his robe and bunch the fabric up in quaking fingers. He tastes like peppermint and cherries.
“Exactly why I had Church and Ranger watch over you while I snuck into the bathroom this morning to clean up.” He chuckles against my lips, and I grin back at him. “You're not the only one who's worried morning breath might fuck this up.” Micah pauses suddenly and pulls back, grabbing my hand and taking me with him.
He opens the bathroom door and … there's my fucking Dad, standing there and staring at me with one of his eyebrows twitching.
“Chuck. Carson.” The two words are ground out between his teeth as I blink back at him in shock. What are the chances, people? No, for real, like what are the chances he'd appear outside the bathroom at this exact moment?! The author of my life must hate me. “Would you like to explain to me what the two of you were doing in the restroom together?”
I was going to seduce Micah, but then I got all nervous, and he wants to confess something to me, so …
“Brushing our teeth?” I blurt, but it's almost a question and not particularly convincing. I am so going to get it. Between the fake engagement, the dead body, me pressed naked against Church, and now this? How long until I turn eighteen again? Christ on a cracker.
“And you needed to do that together because …?” Dad continues, trailing off and then pausing as Mr. Murphy approaches on his left side and leans in to whisper something. Dad's face tightens up and he nods, looking me and Micah over with an expression of bewilderment. “I'm quickly running low on patience with you, Chuck.”
I purse my lips, but keep my hand clamped around Micah's as Dad takes off down the hall and Mr. Murphy scuttles after. He looks terrified to be in my vicinity, so when he passes, I flip him off and take delight in the fact that he cringes. “No way he's one of the killers,” I murmur, but still, I can't figure out his motivation. Church is right: that's our problem. We have a lot of clues but without a motive, it's impossible to put them together.
I could never blame myself for not knowing sooner, what we were dealing with was so much more than I ever could've imagined.
“Come on,” Micah says, leading me back to my room and through it, out the opposite door that leads to the front courtyard. I grab my sandals on the way, and we stroll down the curving paths near the koi pond. The air is crisp and clean, and the scene around us is so peaceful, it's hard to remember that I saw people wearing fox masks in the woods just yesterday. “After I tell you this story, you might hate me for it.”
“Impossible,” I say, exhaling and glancing over at him. I'm starting to learn that just because people make mistakes, it doesn't make them disposable. Even if the mistakes are big. If there's love there, and you care enough about another person, you work through it and you both become better people. I don't mean keeping toxic or abusive people in your life, but … Micah is human. Whatever he did to Tobias, he's a good person now, and that's what matters. Our past isn't an anchor that keeps us tied to a shipwreck beneath the sea; it's the sail that we can collect wind in so that we can soar.
“You know that during freshman year, Tobias and I went to a private academy in Santa Cruz, right?” I raise my eyebrows as Micah stops and turns toward me, the wind teasing the loose strands of his red-orange hair around his face. We've paused on the decking that overlooks the koi pond. Micah steps forward and crosses his arms on the railing, leaning over and looking across the property.
