CHAPTER 51
The next morning,Naomi checked Grace’s carrier for the third time, adjusted the strap she’d already adjusted, and told herself to breathe.
Grace blinked up at her, unbothered.
“At least one of us is calm,” Naomi murmured.
She heard Micah’s SUV pull into the driveway and picked up Grace’s bag before pushing through the side door.
He paused when he saw her. Something moved across his face—there and gone before she could name it.
“Morning,” he said.
“Morning.” She handed him Grace’s bag without thinking, and he took it without thinking, and for just a moment it felt completely natural. Like they’d done this a hundred times.
Then he turned toward the SUV, and the moment passed.
Naomi followed him to the vehicle, watching the back of his head and the set of his shoulders. He seemed so careful and contained. The same way he’d been when he’d walked out last night.
She settled Grace’s carrier into the base in the back seat while Micah stowed the bag.
They climbed in, and he started the engine.
Ahead of them, the gate swung open, and Micah pulled onto the road.
Naomi watched the trees slide past her window. The morning was gray and still, clouds low over the mountains.
Then she turned to look at Micah.
He had both hands on the wheel. His eyes were on the road. His expression was neutral in a way that felt deliberate.
But something was clearly wrong.
“Micah.”
“Hmm?”
“Is everything okay? Between us, I mean.” She kept her voice even. “You’re not acting like yourself.”
His jaw moved slightly. “Everything’s fine.”
“You went from—” She stopped and searched for the right word. “You went from being present to being somewhere else entirely, and I don’t know what happened.”
“You didn’t do anything.” He glanced at her briefly, then back at the road. “It’s not that.”
“Then what is it?”
He didn’t say anything for a moment. Just kept his eyes on the road, jaw set, the silence doing the work he wouldn’t.
“Actually . . . never mind. I’m sorry for asking.” She turned back toward the window, her own walls sliding into place before she’d even made the decision to raise them. Maybe that was what he did to her—reminded her that she knew how to do this too. How to go quiet. How to fold herself back into something smaller and more manageable and wait.
“We’ll talk,” Micah murmured. “I promise. Just not today.”
She nodded once. Fine. She knew how to wait.
Today the problem was Dale Harding and whatever his attorney planned to throw at her in that courtroom. She’d deal with Micah and his walls later—and maybe, if she was being honest, her own.
She’d called an attorney yesterday—one that her mom had found for her—and now Naomi was still running through what the woman had told her. Stay calm, answer directly, don’t volunteer information. The attorney would meet her at the courthouse.
