Page 53 of Micah
“You’re just like him.” She whispers, looking away from me.
She could stab me in the eye with a knife, and it would hurt less. This is exactly what Colt was warning me about. But what the fuck was I supposed to do? Let the rage eat me from the inside? Risk losing my shit in front of her? No chance.
“No,” I say firmly. When she looks at me again, I sign. “I am nothing like your piece-of-shit ex. Nothing. I would never lay a hand on you in anger, but if he were standing in front of me? I’d probably beat him to death. I’m not afraid to admit that to you. I’ve been listening to you tell me all the horrific things he did to you, and I had to fucking release it somehow. Release the anger. So I did what I had to do.”
She clears her throat, still frowning. “And you feel better now?”
“Mostly. I’m still angry that he hurt you. I probably always will be. But pounding on another big guy in a ring, just because? Well, it helps.”
Her eyes widen comically. “You fought with someone your size?”
“Wouldn’t be fair otherwise. There’s no challenge in fighting someone smaller, unless they have major skills like Becca. Colton sparrs with her all the time, and even though she’s smaller, she still makes him cry.”
“I’ve seen it.” She says with a hint of a grin. She reaches out, pulling an alcohol wipe to her. Opening the package slowly, she looks lost in thought.
“What does it feel like, hurting someone?”
I shift uncomfortably in my seat. “Hitting someone who’s trying to hit you back is…satisfying. When I would scrap as a kid, I was so angry. This is different. It’s not about hurting someone, it’s about being completely in the moment, all your senses firing. Going into a fight knowing you’re fighting just to challenge yourself…fuck. That’s not right. Most of those guys there tonight were there for money and to prove they’re the best.”
“But it doesn’t matter to you?”
I shake my head no. “I don’t need money, obviously. I don’t give a fuck what any of them think of me. I was there to release pressure. I did that. Now I’m done.”
She nods distractedly, reaching out for my hand. I watch, mesmerized, as she gently wipes the dried blood on my knuckles.
“I wish I’d been able to hurt him.” She whispers.
“Know,” I say. When you’ve been hurt over and over again by someone, you can’t help but dream of all the ways you want to hurt them back.
“That’s why I’m taking Becca’s self-defense class. I don’t want to ever feel that weak again.”
“Good.” I say firmly. “You can always do more training. Becca and Colt would love to train with you. Or I could go with you,”I offer.
Her shoulders lift slightly, and she gives me a small smile. Curling my fingers around the swab, she carefully gets to her feet. “Night,” she whispers.
I watch her wheel herself away, praying my choices tonight don’t set us back.
24
HOLLY
The last three weeks have been some of the hardest of my life. And I’m including the years I spent with Brent.
After cleaning up Micah’s knuckles that night, my mind was whirling. Was I actually afraid of him again? Or was I angry that he had an outlet? Or maybe it was the easy power he commands. He’s so strong, so capable.
And I’m so…not.
We danced around each other for the next couple of days, both extra polite. Both careful with our words. I’m sure he was following my lead, but thankfully, things seemed to settle down between us.
Going to see the physiotherapist a week after the fire was a relief. She agreed to let me go back to work part time, letting me switch to a smaller ankle brace since I was healing well. The next morning, I woke up excited to go back, nearly bouncing the entire elevator ride down. Micah kept side-eyeing me, but I didn’t care. As I rolled my scooter towards Micah’s car, I realized he wasn’t behind me. Instead, he’d moved towards a dark blue luxury SUV parked right near the elevator.
“What is this?” I asked in confusion. “Does this belong to one of your brothers?”
“No…safer…you,” he mumbled, opening the passenger door for me. I let him help me in, settling into the luxurious seat with a sigh. Everything about it was expensive, from the wood inlay to the buttery leather interior.
“So, this is your car? How did you find time to buy a car? We’ve been together pretty much nonstop for the last week?”
He snorted, flashing an arched eyebrow at me. “Billionaire,” he said, tapping his chest, eyes twinkling.
