Page 88 of Micah
A tiny part of me—one I don't entirely understand—feels safe.
The four men were groaning and cursing when he’d kicked them out.
One had been clutching his knee.
Another kept spitting blood onto my floor—so gross.
But I’m glad.
I mean, I hope everything he did to them hurts.
A lot.
They leave, and Micah turns toward me.
The transformation is almost impossible to comprehend.
One second he's a force of nature.
The next?
He's looking at me like I'm made of spun glass.
Like one wrong move might send me shattering into a thousand pieces.
His shoulders lower.
His breathing steadies.
Even the hard lines around his mouth soften.
“Sloane?”
His voice is quiet now.
Gentle.
“Are you okay?”
I nod automatically.
“I...” My throat feels thick. “I think so.”
He takes one cautious step closer.
Stops.
Giving me space.
Always giving me the choice.
“I'm sorry you had to see that.”
I blink.
“What?”
“I don't want...” His jaw works for a second before he continues. “I don't want you to be scared of me.”
