And some part of me—some newly awakened, reckless part—didn’t immediately reject that.
I locked the back room door and went back to the shop.
My phone buzzed again fifteen minutes later.
Micah:Something wrong?
I stared at the message.
How did he know?
I typed slowly.
Me:Why would you ask that?
The reply came faster this time.
Micah:Because my gut says.
My throat tightened.
I didn’t tell him everything. I didn’t know how.
But I didn’t lie.
Me:A woman came in asking questions. About you.
There was a pause.
Long enough that my anxiety started to bloom.
Then:
Micah:Did she scare you?
The question stopped me cold.
Notwhat did she say.
Notwho was she.
Notwhat did you tell her.
Did she scare you?
I exhaled slowly.
Me:No. But she crossed a line.
Another pause.
When his response came, it was different. Shorter.
Micah:I’m coming by.
My stomach flipped.
Me:Micah, you don’t have to?—
