Page 37 of Micah
“Sold!” Colt bellows to the poor guy.
“Ah, yes, sir. Of course.” He smooths down his fluffy white hair and extends an arm to the front of the store. “Ma’am, if you’ll come with me, we’ll get you rung up.”
I follow him through the store, dissolving into giggles when I realize I look like a mother duckling leading a train of big, highly muscled, scooter riding ducklings. The salesman’s eyes are wide as we all pull up to the counter.
“Crutches…too.” Micah orders the poor guy. I glare at him, and he adds, “please,” with a cheeky smile.
The man hurries off, coming back quickly with a pair of small purple crutches. When he sees my raised eyebrows, his cheeks redden. “It’s the only pair we have in stock for someone your uh…height.”
There’s a snort behind me. “Cause you’re itty bitty,” Declan sings.
I turn to glare at Declan. “We can’t all be gargantuan apes now can we?” I ask sweetly.
He winks and the he rest of the guys snicker as I turn back to the salesman. His head is bobbing between us like he’s watching a tennis match. “Ah. Ok, with the scooter and the crutches, the total will be-“
“Scooters,” Colt interrupts, waiting for the salesman to look at him. “We’re taking all of them, man.” He waves to the ones he and the guys are still occupying, rocking them back and forth like they’re toy cars.
“Ok. Right. Of course, sir. Would you like me to arrange delivery?”
And just like that,we’re back in Jonas’s minivan with my crutches and knee scooter, four more on their way to the condo. I just about swallowed my tongue when I saw the total Micah put on his credit card, but I didn’t argue. I need to be mobile. What if there’s another fire, or something else happens? I don’t want to be helpless again.
And maybe I’m testing him just a little bit. The $250 he just spent on me is a drop in the bucket for him, I know, but I still wonder what it’s going to cost me. Brent always collected. Always.
“Where…going…Jonas?” Micah asks suddenly. The men insisted I sit in the front, even though I can fit in any of the seats easily. They’re piled in the back, looking quite comfortable, clearly not their first ride in this van. I didn’t even notice we were going the wrong way.
“Craft store,” Jonas says, both hands on the wheel, “Holly needs yarn.”
My eyes widen. “Oh Jonas, no it’s ok. I don’t need anything more tonight.”
His eyes shift to mine briefly before staring back out the window. “Yes. You do,” he says firmly.
“I’ve never been to a craft store before.” Declan says. “What, they have like, paint and shit there?”
I turn back, surprised to see all three of them looking intrigued. “Ah, yes. Paint, canvases, yarn. Things for baking and making jewelry. Lots of yarn.”
“Fuck Yeah! Let’s go.” Colt says, pumping his arm and wiggling his eyebrows. I face forward, giggling the whole way to the parking lot of the big box craft store. As I look up at the massive store, I thank God we couldn’t fit their scooters in the van.
When we get in the doors, it’s a repeat of the health care store. The guys scatter, only this time Declan takes Micah aside for a moment, speaking quietly. Micah nods and slaps him on the back before coming back to me. “Is it ok if Declan hangs with you for a bit? We’ll meet you guys in the yarn section.”
Puzzled, I nod yes, then let Declan escort me as I beeline on my scooter for the yarns. I’ve actually been to this store before. It has the right combination of price and selection for someone with a budget as tiny as mine is. Declan stays by my side, shooting glances at me until I’m completely unnerved. Unable to take it anymore, I stop at the end of an aisle. “What?”
He turns to me, pushing the hood of his sweater back. His hair is in a mohawk. It’s mostly bright red, but his dark roots are growing out. His eyes are devastated. “It’s my fault.” He blurts, locking his hands behind his neck.
“What’s your fault?” I ask, already lost.
“I’m the reason Brent found you.”
18
HOLLY
Black spots dance before my eyes. I sway, and Declan’s hands are there, keeping me from falling. He helps me shift until I’m sitting on the scooter.
“Explain,” I order him, my panting breaths making the words come out in a whisper, rather than the assertive order I intended them to be.
He kneels in front of me, devastation written on his face. “I ran a background check. It’s standard for all new employees, but yours came back with some…anomalies. Enough that I had to dig deeper.”
“They told me my new identity was solid.” The only thing that let me sleep the last two years is believing that. Finding out it’s a lie is rocking my entire foundation.
