She wrapped her hands around her tea again. The warmth seeped into her palms, but it didn’t reach the cold spot in her chest.
“Could Richard’s family actually take her?” The question came out before she’d fully grasped the implications.
Micah leaned back. “If anyone on his side wanted to make a claim, the court would have to consider it. Blood relatives usually get first priority.”
The cold spot spread.
Naomi thought about Richard’s family. His mother, Linda, who’d smiled at her at every family gathering and said nothing when Richard’s moods turned dark. His brother, Dale, who’d looked the other way so often it became its own kind of complicity.
They’d chosen a side. Richard’s side. All of them. Every single one.
She knew it was mostly out of family loyalty. But loyalty shouldn’t be more important than someone’s safety and well-being.
“They’re not safe,” Naomi said.
“What do you mean?” Micah tilted his head as he waited for her answer.
“Richard’s family.” She set the tea down. “They were on his side. Through all of it—through what he did to Sarah, through her death, through the trial. They stood up for him. They defended him. They turned a blind eye to the evidence.”
“I know,” he reminded her. “I was there.”
The words settled between them, quiet but weighted.
Naomi looked at him—really looked at him—and felt something shift in her chest.
She’d seen him at the trial. Watched him take the stand, calm and unshakable, while Richard’s attorney tried to tear apart his testimony piece by piece.
Micah hadn’t flinched. Hadn’t gotten defensive. He’d just answered every question with the same steady precision, presenting the evidence exactly as he’d found it.
When Richard’s family had filled the courtroom—sitting in the front row behind the defense table, making a show of their support—Micah had faced them and testified. Even when it made him the villain in their eyes. Even when they’d glared at him with open hostility every single day of the trial.
He’d done it because it was his job. Because it was the right thing to do.
Not because it was easy. Not because it would win him friends. But because Sarah had deserved someone who wouldn’t look away.
Naomi’s throat tightened. “Thank you. For that. For . . . everything you did for Sarah. I don’t think I ever said that.”
Micah’s expression didn’t change, but something in his eyes softened. “You don’t have to thank me for doing my job.”
“It was more than that.” She held his gaze. “You could have let it go. A lot of people assumed it was an accident. But you didn’t.”
He was quiet a moment, and she thought he might deflect again, brush it off the way he always did.
Instead, he just nodded once. “No. I didn’t.”
