Page 27 of Robbin’ the Rich

“Hm.”

Micah laughed softly. “Robin.”

I smiled despite myself. “Yeah. Okay.”

The relief that crossed his face was weirdly adorable.

We exchanged numbers while standing there in my doorway, both of us smiling like idiots by the end of it. Then Micah leaned down and kissed me one last time. Slow enough to make my pulse stumble all over again.

When he finally pulled away, he brushed his thumb lightly against my cheek. “I’ll text you later,” he said softly.

And somehow, unbelievably, I found myself already looking forward to it.

After Micah left, my apartment felt strangely quiet. I was trying very hard not to examine too closely. So naturally, I did what any emotionally stable adult woman would do after unexpectedly catching feelings for a tattooed bassist in a priest costume.

I took my coffee into my office to commit light cybercrime.

The glow of my monitors lit the dark room as I settled into my desk chair, oversized t-shirt slipping off one shoulder while I woke up my computer.

Most people probably decompressed after hookups with journaling or yoga. I preferred spreadsheets and morally questionable financial activity. I cracked my knuckles once and pulled up the encrypted backdoor access I’d built into Ascension’s systems.

It’d been almost two weeks since that night at my parents and it was still there, and still functional. Honestly, it was embarrassing on their part. For a church that loved talking about spiritual warfare, their digital security remained absolute trash. A few quick commands later and their financial dashboard opened across my screen.

I scrolled the transaction history first.

GOOD SAMARITAN MISSION

Nothing was flagged. It had been filed neatly beneath outreach expenditures. And apparently no one had noticed a thing.

A slow grin spread across my face.

“Well,” I murmured to myself, lifting my coffee slightly toward the screen, “congratulations on your newfound commitment to social justice.”

I clicked through the reporting trail carefully, confirming everything still looked clean. Somewhere across town, Lantern House had received enough money to breathe for a little while. Maybe they could pay staff properly for once or replace those ancient washers Maggie kept complaining about. They’d be able to keep some scared kid from sleeping in their car for another week. The thought warmed my cold heart. I leaned back in my chair feeling deeply pleased with myself. After one final check through the system, I logged out cleanly and wiped the access trail automatically.

Then, because balance was important, I opened Project Undead. Within minutes, my headset was on and digital gunfire exploded across my monitors while I loaded into a multiplayer match.

Sometimes self-care meant processing complicated emotions. Sometimes it meant shooting NPCs in the face while ignoring the fact that you were already hoping a man texted.

Both were valid.

7

MICAH

Iwas twenty-eight years old and still got anxious driving to church. Sunday morning traffic slowed to a crawl around the massive parking lots surrounding Ascension Fellowship while I gripped my coffee cup, and seriously considered turning the car around… Again.

The giant LED sign near the entrance flashed through announcements in polished graphics:

WELCOME HOME

ASCENSION YOUNG ADULTS TONIGHT

FIND GOD INSTEAD OF THE BOTTLE

I snorted softly at that last one. Considering my younger brother was in charge of that group, the irony that was not lost on me.

I parked near the back of the lot and stared at the sprawling building rising ahead of me. Ascension didn’t even look like a church anymore. Not really. It was all glass walls and industrial modern architecture. A massive digital screen wrapped the entrance. Once inside there was a coffee shop bigger than some actual cafés downtown. Hundreds of people poured through the doors, carrying designer diaper bags and branded tumblers while worship music drifted faintly across the parking lot.