He nods, then hesitates. “I was thinking… I might try a piece I composed some night,” he ventures. “It’s not as good as the rest of what I play, but it would be different.”
He’s doing it again: downplaying his own skills and achievements.
“You can play whatever you like,” I say, squeezing his shoulder lightly. “And I’m sure it’s good. You have the good ear for music.”
“Thank you,” he mumbles, but he sounds pleased. “I can play it for you first, to make sure you think it’s okay. I’ve been working on it for a long time.”
“I’d love that.” I kiss the top of his head.
This could be the end of the conversation.
But Boris’s words linger in my mind.
There is only one person Micah could have been calling.
“Have you…” I sigh, unsure if I should even bring this up. I want to believe in this gentle life we’ve built. But it won’t stay this way if I have to worry about some fucking cop killing Micah. “Have you been calling Adam?”
Micah immediately tenses.
He doesn’t have to speak for me to know the truth, but I wait anyway.
I want to know if he’ll tell me.
He hesitates, then he nods. “He just keeps trying to make sure I’m okay.”
My heart sinks in my chest, because it’s a lie.
A complete, and utter, lie.
I’m not sure what he’s lying about—either Adam’s tone, or his intentions, or what. But in the end, it doesn’t matter.
Micah doesn’t trust me with the truth.
“Do you want to go back to him?” I ask.
Micah startles again, and he looks up at me. “No,” he says. “But…” He looks away before continuing quietly, “Sometimes I think I should.”
“Why you should go back?” My hand curls into a fist. “You should do only what you want to.”
“I don’t deserve any of this. I don’t deserveyou,” Micah replies.
“You deserve a man who leaves you at restaurant with the bill?” I growl. “You deserve a man who hurts you? You deserve a man who makes you feel small? You deserve a man who makes you cry?”
He flinches. “I don’t know,” he says. “Maybe.”
“No.” I take Micah’s hand. “You don’t want to be with me? Fine. I will not be like my father, who kept my mother small and scared. But I will not let you go back tohim. Block his number, Mishka. If he tries to force you back, I will not care that he is cop.”
Micah’s grip on my hand is tight. “I don’twantto go back. Iwantto be with you. But it isn’t that easy, Ilya.”
“Why not?” I demand.
He lets out a quiet, despairing little sound that cuts straight to my heart. “You don’t know the kind of person I am. You don’t know what I deserve.”
“You know what kind of personIam,” I say. “I told you. You think I am better than you? You think you are so bad, you will taintme?”
“I don’t… I don’t know,” he says. He starts to release my hand, but I don’t let go of him. “Ilya…”
“What?” I demand. “What is so bad about you that you deserve to be hurt?”
