Page 18 of Micah
Now though? With him looking at me like that? Well, that distance is getting harder and harder to find. Maybe it’s an anomaly. He could go back to the grumpy guy any time. In my experience, most men are really excellent actors, but his true colors will shine through, eventually.
I pull my eyes from him, looking around his car instead. This is only the second time I’ve been in it. I was too upset to pay attention to any details the first time. Having your husband attack your friend with a knife right in front of you will do that. But now I can appreciate how soft the leather seat is, how comfortable. I’ve worked at the garage for just over two months, but I still don’t know much about cars. But I can tell this one is old and beautifully restored.
“What kind of car is this?” I ask him. He glances over, smiling again.
“Dodge…Co..” He trails off, taking a deep breath. “Coronet”.
“It looks like a car from the seventies.” Wow Holly, brilliant observation.
“Yeah,” He says, patting the dash. “Fixed…it.” He slows to a crawl, taking a careful right. He’s driving like an old woman.
The car is rumbling under me, the vibrations almost like a massage. Between the rumbles and how gently he’s driving, I relax. I’ve been on the verge of a panic attack since we left the hospital. It’s not just going home with Micah, though I’m not sure I want to think about that too hard right now. Better to compartmentalize that. It’s that everything I’ve worked so hard for is gone.
“Ok?” Micah asks, his voice concerned.
“No,” I say, frustrated by that question. I swear I’ve been asked it fifty times over the last two days, and I’m over it.
“Say…it,” he rumbles.
“I’ve lost everything!” I yell, wincing in pain. My throat is still so sore. “I have nothing left. Nothing! Every time I try to build something for myself, it goes up in flames. Literally this time!” I’m such a failure.
Micah makes a sympathetic sound, lifting a hand from the steering wheel before dropping back to clench on the steering wheel.“Be…ok.”
I snort and drop my tired head against the headrest. “Easy for you to say. You have no concept of what it’s like to be my age and have no safety net. You’ll never know. You’ve got a family that is always there for you.”
He meets my eyes briefly, his lips pressed together tightly. “I…got…you.” He says, voice strong and clear. It’s a nice sentiment, but that’s all it is. Sentiment. When push comes to shove, I’ll be on my own.
This isn’t my first rodeo.
I’ve lived this before. Someone coming to my rescue. It’s never free. There’s always a price to pay, no matter what he says.
We finally pull into the guy’s high rise. I crane my neck to look all the way to the top. It’s still strange to me that the guy next to me, the guy who spends his day working on cars, lives in a multi-million dollar condo. He lives a life I honestly can’t comprehend. They all do.
What would it be like to wake up and not have to worry about how you’re going to buy food that week? Or keep a roof over your head?
Micah swings into the underground garage, looping down until he goes through the next security gate. He parks, exhaling heavily, and grabs his phone, sending a quick text, then turns to me. “Home.”
I swallow tightly and nod, the easy way he says that word clattering through my body. For most of my life, home has not been an easy place for me. It’s always been somewhere I had to make myself smaller, invisible, just to stay safe.
Micah swings my door open, crouching to release my belt. I look down at my bare toes again, wiggling them into the plush floor mat, before looking back at him. I slowly reach out, putting my hand on his shoulder. He smiles at me warmly before sliding his arm behind my back and under my knees.
As he stands, I’m bombarded by sensation. My back and legs are tingling where he’s holding me. The warmth of his chest is radiating through me, warming me straight to my core.
I’ve been held before. Even with my extra padding, I’m still a small woman. Brent never hesitated to pick me up. But he never did it with the care and consideration Micah does. He’s always checking in with me, checking that I’m ok. That I’m not freaking out. I really like that he does that, just as much as I hate that he needs to.
We stop in front of the private elevator servicing just the top floors. It takes me a second to realize we’re just standing there, Micah holding me casually, his stance relaxed. I’m about to tell him he can put me down when the doors swing open revealing Colton.
Despite my discomfort, my anxiety, I smile. There’s just something about him that is so sweet. So approachable. It makes no sense. He’s as tall as Micah, but wider. An absolute wall of muscle, tattoos winding up his arms into the sleeves of his t-shirt. His brown eyes are piercing and his dark beard should make him look scary, but somehow he’s not.
“Hey sweet girl,” he says with a smile, “your chariot awaits.” He waves us into the elevator, gently bumping shoulders with Micah. We settle at the back of the elevator, Micah leaning against the wall as Colton enters his security code and scans his palm. He hits the button for Kade and Micah’s floor, then turns to me with kind eyes. “You hanging in there?”
I bite the inside of my cheek, conscious of Micah’s eyes on me too. “I’m alive,” I say finally. “I guess that counts for something.” I can’t muster up any more enthusiasm than that, and I’m embarrassed. I should be more grateful. I know that. Life is precious, yada, yada. But I’m still in the throes ofwhy me,so I’ll need to wallow a bit longer before I get to grateful.
Colton glances at Micah before reaching out to pat my shoulder with his big hand. “It’s ok to not be ok, sweets. We’ve got you for as long as you need us. Micah’s going to take such good care of you, and we’ll all come check on you so you don’t get sick of his ugly mug.”
My lips curl at the playful grumble coming from Micah’s chest. The way these guys interact is pretty special. I haven’t spent much time around them, but there’s always a clear undercurrent of affection when they speak to each other.
I’m woman enough to admit that it hurts to see sometimes. The affection in their chosen family makes the absence of it in my family and my marriage glaring. No one’s ever looked at me like they love me. I thought Brent did, at the beginning, but I’m coming to see it was just a pale shadow of the real thing. He didn’t love me. Maybe he couldn’t love me. Maybe it was me.
