Page 95 of Micah
I let out a shaky breath.
“Micah?”
“Yeah?”
“I...”
The words stick.
I hate admitting weakness.
Always have.
But tonight changed something.
“I don't want to go home alone.”
I laugh once, though it sounds more like a hiccup.
“It's stupid.”
“You’re not stupid,” he answers quietly.
“It’s just, I'm scared.”
My voice is barely a whisper, but the admission hangs between us like I used a bullhorn to shout it.
But Micah? He doesn't hesitate.
Not even for a heartbeat.
“Good.”
I frown.
“Good?”
“Because you're not going home.”
“What?”
“You're coming with me.”
The certainty in his voice steals every objection before I can make one.
Not a question.
Not an offer.
A decision.
Like somewhere in his mind it was never going to end any other way.
And hearing him say that? It settles my nerves and anxiety.
For the first time since those men walked into my bar, I feel myself breathe.
Really breathe.
