Page 92 of Micah

Like he's looking for the lie.

“There isn't anything about what you just did that scares me.”

I take one slow step toward him.

“You protected me.”

His throat works.

“I had to.”

“No.”

I shake my head.

“You chose to. And, I mean, I have questions. Like, why did you interfere? How did you even know I was in trouble?”

Something flickers across his face.

Gone before I can name it.

A low groan cuts through the silence.

Patrick.

I whirl around, and a myriad of emotions hit me.

Worry.

Fear.

Anger.

Disappointment.

He's still crumpled near the broken barstools, one arm wrapped around his stomach.

Blood streaks the corner of his mouth.

His face has already started swelling.

My heart sinks.

He's still my brother.

No matter how angry I am.

“Patrick...”

I start toward him.

Micah gently catches my wrist.

Not hard.

Just enough to stop me.

“I got him.”