Page 42 of Micah

Ten hours?

Twelve?

I glance toward the clock.

Nine-thirty.

She was here before six this morning just to start the smokers.

Jesus.

The woman is running herself ragged.

The urge to get up and help her is so strong I actually start to stand.

I catch myself.

Sit back down.

Not my place.

Not yet.

I hate those last two words.

Not yet.

When the hell did I start hoping there'd be a yet?

Alex catches my eye from across the room.

Raises one eyebrow.

I glare.

He grins.

Asshole.

Our youngest hand knows exactly what I'm looking at.

He follows my line of sight.

Looks from me...

To Sloane...

Back to me.

Then silently mouths, Go talk to her.

I answer with one finger.

He laughs hard enough that the woman he’s with elbows him.

Good.

Let him laugh. I’ll pay the fucker back by making him clean out Big Ben’s stall tomorrow.