Page 22 of Takedown Artist
“Whatever, you love it. Now you better spill because I’m not letting you get away with this avoidance thing you’ve got going on here.”
I look away deliberately, not meeting his gaze as I run my hand over my head. None of it helps. I grip the steering wheel, trying to come up with a reason not to talk about this, but I’ve got nothing. Micah waits patiently until finally he takes pity on me.
“Is it because you’re scared?” Micah asks carefully.
“In a way, but not exactly,” I say, avoiding a direct answer.
“Okay. Is it because you might lose?”
I snort.
“No. Not even a little. I’ve fought this guy before and I’m better. I can take him.”
“Okay. So the real problem is what then?” he asks, with more patience than I expect from him.
“What if I win?” I say softly.
“You’re gonna have to explain why that’s a problem since I kind of thought that was the whole point?”
I don’t answer right away because we’re at the gym and I take a second to pull in and park. I am absolutely not stalling. Maybe. We sit for a minute before I’m able to articulate my thoughts.
“It’s not that I’m afraid to win, exactly. It’s just that every time something good comes along, I can’t seem to reach out and grab it. As if something inside of me says no, you don’t get to have good things. You know what? Never mind. I mean who’s afraid of winning? Right?”
Micah eyes me for a moment before leaning toward me with an almost gleeful look.
“Oh, hell no! There’s no never mind here, big guy. You opened the can of worms so now we’re going fishing.”
That would be funny if I didn’t feel as if I’m under a microscope right now. The churning in my stomach intensifies because the last thing I want is to sound like an idiot in front of Micah. But I also don’t want him to think I’m blowing him off. I sift through my brain to find the words to make him understand without putting all my insecurities on display.
“Did you know that Anvil got my pro spot last time? I could have had it. But I let it go.”
“You let him have it, didn’t you?” Micah asks.
I roll my shoulders. It’s hard to do this sitting still. I’d rather be hitting the bag while we talk about how I fucked up my life. Words always come easier when I’m moving.
“I wouldn’t say that I let him have it. More like I didn’t pursue it. And he went for it. No holding back. Just full speed ahead. No guilt. No apologizing. He took what he wanted.”
Micah has twisted himself around in the front of my truck so he’s actually facing me now. He’s looking at me withdisconcerting intensity, those pretty lips of his pursed as if he’s eaten a lemon.
“Are you afraid to want things, Troy? Things just for you?” Micah asks with an unusual amount of gravity.
My head comes up, my eyes widening as I catch his gaze. He gets a funny look on his face before he reaches out and squeezes my thigh, leaving his hand there, warm against my bare skin. Suddenly, telling him the truth doesn’t seem nearly as difficult as it did a few minutes ago.
“Maybe I am.”
“Yeah, I get that.”
Micah’s hand slides across my leg in a comforting caress. I wrap it in mine, and he doesn’t pull away. Maybe we’re all making progress today.
“Well, you know what they say in AA? The first step is admitting you have a problem. Look at us winning.”
Micah grins as I burst out laughing. But now he’s smiling and I’m finally clear on what I need to do.
I grab my phone and pull up Ryan’s text message. Micah releases my hand, sitting back in his seat while I type up a text to Ryan and hit send before I can overthink it.
Diesel:Count me in. I’m ready.
Chapter 10
