Page 144 of Micah

Not because she needs saving.

Because she deserves someone who shows up.

Every single time.

I ease her onto the mattress as though she's made of spun glass.

She nestles instinctively into the pillows, her fingers brushing mine before settling against the blanket.

I don't move right away.

I just stand there looking at her.

Still amazed she's here.

Still amazed she chose me.

I hope...

Fuck, I really do hope she'll let me spend the rest of my life proving she made the right choice.

The bedroom is dark except for the moonlight spilling through the windows.

She makes a small noise then settles, and I’m struck by how pretty she is.

God.

She's really beautiful.

The events of the evening replay through my mind.

The phone call.

The bar.

The men.

The fight.

If I'd been five minutes later.

I slam that door in my head before it can open any farther.

But when I think about what could’ve happened to her tonight—what that scar-faced motherfucker tried to take from her, from me—I want to howl like a fucking beast.

But that didn’t happen.

She's here.

Safe.

Breathing.

Alive.

And I mean to keep her that way.

I stand there longer than I should, simply watching her sleep.