She exhales this tiny, relieved sound and hugs me even tighter, burying her face against my heartbeat. And it hits me hard—the way she feels likehome.
We eventually pull away, though neither of us wants to. Micah claps me on the back. “C’mon, lover boy. We’ve got shit to do.”
“Yeah, yeah.” I squeeze Emma’s hand before we head out. She kisses my cheek, and I swear, it roots me to the floor for a second. We step outside into the bright, cool morning. The Audi waits in the driveway, and for once, even the sunlight doesn’t piss me off.
Micah slides into the passenger seat. I get behind the wheel. The engine rumbles to life beneath my trembling hands. “You have some oxy or coke?” he asks immediately, running a hand through his hair. “I could barely finish my coffee without shaking out of my fucking skin.”
I sigh, reaching into the center console to retrieve a small baggie of pills. I hate that I need them, too. That the tremble in my arms when I hugged my girl was because I needed them. I wonder if she knew what Micah and I had to do last night. It’s brutal, truly. We’re injecting daily.
We each down our pills with an old water bottle on the passenger seat floorboard before we pull out. I’m more determined than ever. For Emma. For us. For the life I should’ve fought for years ago.
After Micah has the peace of mind of an incoming high, he peers at me with an annoying grin.
I roll my eyes. “Don’t start.”
“Oh, I’m starting,” he says, propping his feet up on the dash. “Pretty sure the whole neighborhood heard—”
“Micah.”
“—and I gotta say, man, proud of you. Truly. Inspirational.”
I flip him off without taking my hand off the wheel. He laughs so hard he nearly chokes on the water.
We hit the main road before he settles down, though the grin is still plastered across his face. “Seriously,” he says, nudging me with his elbow. “Good for you.”
“Yeah,” I mutter, but it comes out softer than I expect. “Yeah, it...was good.”
He watches me for a few quiet seconds, something shifting in his expression. He knows damn well that I’ve only slept with one person for the last seven years. “I heard you tell her you’re hers.”
I don’t bother denying it. “Yeah. My heart.”
Micah nods slowly. Chews his lip. Not a good sign. “And...what about Adriana?”
I snort so loudly it startles a crow off a fence post at a stop light. “I’m never fucking Adriana again. Jesus, Micah.”
“Yeah, I figured you’d say that.” His voice dips a little. “But...that might be difficult.”
My grip on the wheel tightens. “Why?”
He hesitates, then: “We have to go to New York in two weeks.”
Fuck.
He continues, “Performance, promo stuff, meetings. Adriana’s going to be there. It’s a whole weekend deal—Friday through Sunday. We’re meeting up with Finnick and Kami when we land.”
I breathe out through my nose, jaw tightening. “Fuck.”
Micah nods, staring out the window because he knowsexactlywhat this means.
Pre-party, get high, perform, after-party, get high, fuck Adriana, spiral in self-hate, contemplate suicide.
“Kami’s texted me a few times since we’ve been gone,” I mutter. “She’s really worried about us.”
“Yeah, she texted me, too,” he sighs.
We sit in silence for a moment. It’s been a while since we’ve been with them. When it was announced that Micah and I were taking a break, they drove home in New York, then jetted to Vancouver to see Kami’s family.
“I have to tell Emma. I can’t blindside her. I won’t,” I say immediately. “I’ll bring her. And Heather. I’ll pay for them to come, hotel, flights, whatever. I don’t care.”
