Page 97 of Keeping Knight

“I’ll try not to.” Micah watches as Wraith leaves the room, then looks back at me. He pats the side of his bed. “Sit.” A beat later, he makes a sheepish face. “Shit, sorry. That sounded like I was talking to Sampson.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” I reply. “I can stand.”

“You won’t hurt me. I need you closer.” His gaze softens as it meets mine. “Please, Rue. I need to touch you.”

His gentle tone is enough to start me crying again. “I’m so sorry, Micah. This is all my fault.”

“Rue.” Micah takes my hand and tugs me onto the bed. “Stop apologizing.”

Right. This isn’t about me right now. It’s about Micah. Who was shot. I should be asking how he’s feeling instead of crying and going on about how sorry I am. “Sorry. How are you feeling? Are you in pain? Do you need more medicine?” I glance around the room, taking in the bare windowsill and dresser. “What do you need? Food? Books? Flowers? No, you probably don’t want flowers. What about balloons? Or one of those fruit bouquets. Something to make it more cheerful in here.”

His fingers lace between mine. “I don’t need anything. Other than you.”

“How is your pain?” I press. “I can find a nurse. Or a doctor.”

“Ruby.” His tone firms. “Calm down. I’m fine. It’s just a graze.”

“A graze?” My voice rises. “That”—I shoot a pointed look at the bandage on his chest—“is not a graze. You were shot.” As it all hits me again, my face crumbles. “It’s all my fault. If I’d known…”

Micah sits up higher and carefully wraps his arm around me. Then he leans over to kiss me. “What would you have done differently?” he asks.

“I don’t know,” I sob. “If I hadn’t taken the cooking class, then Henry wouldn’t have targeted you. He wouldn’t have tried to kill you and Sampson. You wouldn’t be sitting in a hospital bed with a bullet hole in your chest.”

Pain twists his features. “Do you really wish you hadn’t taken the class?” he asks. “Do you wish we’d never met?”

“No. Of course not. But I just feel so guilty.”

Micah looks down at his lap. After a few seconds of silence, he releases a heavy sigh. When his gaze lifts again to meet mine, his expression is tortured. “It was my fault, Ruby. Not yours. I should have anticipated something like this. Done more research. I should have protected you better. ”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” I insist. “You did everything to protect me. You left me Sampson, and Beau was right outside, and the condo was safe… I’m the one who opened the door. I should have… I don’t know. Done something different.”

“When the floor was being evacuated and there was smoke everywhere?” he points out. “What were you supposed to do?”

“Henry was there for me. Because he had some crazy obsession with me. And I had no idea. I should have noticed⁠—”

“Ruby. It wasn’t your fault.”

But I’m spiraling into a black hole of guilt. “I forgot to put on the necklace after my shower,” I say. “That was so stupid. If I’d been wearing it, I could have warned you sooner.”

“I knew something was wrong,” Micah replies. “Even before you texted about the fire alarm. Something about Greg didn’t ring true. So, really, I should have come home sooner. Maybe I would have gotten back in time to stop Henry from hurting you.”

“But—” I stop as Wraith’s advice comes back to me. I close my eyes and let my breath out slowly. When I open my eyes again, Micah is watching me with deep concern.

“Are you in pain, Ruby?” he asks. “Did you get checked out in the ER? Was there something Henry did to you—” His jaw clenches. “Did he do something, and you didn’t want to tell me before?”

“No.” I shake my head. “No. It’s not that. I’m okay. It’s just…”

Micah squeezes my hand. “What?”

“We can both blame ourselves for what happened. We can spend all this time thinking about what-ifs and torturing ourselves over what we could have done differently. But it’s not going to help either of us. It won’t fix things.”

He sucks in a breath. “What are you saying? That we’re broken?”

“No. God, no. That’s not it at all.” Taking a moment to compose my thoughts, I add, “You think it’s your fault. But I don’t agree. And I bet you don’t blame me, either.”

“Of course not, Ruby.” It’s quick. Adamant. “Shit. Of course, I don’t blame you. Not for one single thing.”

“And I don’t blame you. Not for anything. So… if you don’t blame me, and I don’t blame you…”