He had to be exhausted, so I held off until ten before I typed the message that felt like ripping my own ribs open.
Me
I’m going to stop doing the baked goods at The Tight Line. I can’t keep taking help. Please don’t add anything else to the menu for me.
I stared at the message for a moment before I hit send.
I gulped hard, and my fingers felt like lead as I typed the next message.
Me
And I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be taking me to and from work or letting me sleep at your place constantly. I feel like I’m not standing on my own two feet. I need to be steady on my own because you won’t always be around to hold me up.
After hitting send once more, I shoved my phone into the bottom of my tote. Then I went to work early just so I’d have something to keep me busy.
I kept my head down through the lunch rush, avoiding eye contact with my coworkers and barely resisting the urge to check my phone and see if Micah had replied. By the time the afternoon lull hit, my nerves were shot. The whispers felt louder today, even if no one said anything outright.
I escaped into the stock room under the guise of grabbing a box of sugar packets. That was when I heard a deep voice I’d know anywhere.
“You want to run your mouth about my girl, you do it directly to me.”
I turned toward the crack in the door. Micah stood in the hallway, staring down at Derek, who looked like he was about to pass out.
“I didn’t mean…I wasn’t?—”
“I don’t give a damn what you meant.” Micah’s tone wasn’t loud, but it was lethal in its calm. “You don’t get to spread lies about her. Not here. Not anywhere.”
Derek nodded so fast it looked painful.
My heart slammed against my ribs. I didn’t feel like I deserved him defending me like that.
If he saw me right now, I’d crumble. Completely.
Before he could come looking for me, I did something completely out of character. I bailed on my shift by slipping out the side door into the alley, my breath shaking and my vision blurring.
I needed to protect Micah, even if that meant breaking my own heart in the process.
11
MICAH
Istood in the break room of The Tight Line, staring at the empty space where Rylin must have been just minutes ago. Tammi had seen her run in here, but had been called away, so she didn’t know where Rylin had gone after that.
She’d run. I knew it in my bones. Not just stepped outside to clear her head or gone to the back for some fresh air. She’d bolted.
I rubbed the back of my neck and forced a deep breath through my nose, but it didn’t do a damn thing to slow the pressure tightening in my chest or calm the fire clawing at my insides. I wasn’t about to lose her over some bullshit rumor or whatever insecurities she was battling in that beautiful, stubborn head of hers.
Fuck that.
I turned to head out, but something on the round table in the center of the room caught my eye. Her notebook. The same one she always scribbled in when she thought no one was looking. I’d flipped through it several times, and the edge of it always seemed to be sticking out of her tote bag, battered and soft at the corners from being opened and closed a thousand times.
Without a second thought, I snatched it up and headed for the exit.
I hadn’t wanted to bother with parking because I was in a rush to see Rylin, so I’d taken a black cab. But I didn’t have time to wait for a car, so I dashed out to the curb and waved down a yellow taxi. Once I was inside, I gave him the address for Rylin’s studio.
Part of me hoped she wouldn’t be there, that she’d gone home and was waiting for me to arrive so we could deal with this together. The other half of me knew it was a fantasy. Life had been trying to shake her loose for too long. And I hadn’t had enough time to prove that I was her anchor. But I wasn’t letting go without a fight.
The cab dropped me in front, and I marched up the stairs. My jaw was tight, and my pulse hammered under my skin, but I kept it all locked down. Fire and rage wouldn’t fix this. I needed to be calm and steady so I could show her that I wasn’t going anywhere. And thought it wasn't the time to tell her, she needed me to show her that I loved her. Being angry would only push her away and deepen the skewed lenses through which she saw herself.
