Page 89 of Micah
The words catch me completely off guard.
Scared?
Of him?
After what he'd just done?
“Micah...”
He looks away.
“I used to be in the military.”
He says it like that explains everything.
Maybe it explains some things.
The way he moves.
The way he never seems to waste a step.
The way his eyes sweep every room before he fully walks into it, cataloging exits, people, problems.
The quiet awareness that's become as much a part of him as those broad shoulders or the faded tattoos disappearing beneath the sleeves of his T-shirt.
It explains why he stayed so calm while everyone else panicked.
Why he never seemed surprised by violence.
Why he knew exactly what to do.
But it doesn't explain him.
Not really.
It doesn't explain the man behind those startling blue eyes.
Eyes so bright they almost don't seem real until they're fixed on me, and then they're all I can see.
They're watchful.
Intelligent.
Gentle.
Like he's always thinking three steps ahead while somehow still noticing the smallest things.
He notices when I cough.
When I'm tired.
When I'm pretending I'm fine.
Even when he thinks I don't catch him looking...
I do.
I always do.
