I climbed in beside Alexio and tried to calm myself down.
“Relax, dude,” Alexio said, reading my face all wrong. “I’m not going to rip your balls off for a milk stain.”
Micah choked again. “Maybe you should.”
I turned to scowl at him before remembering he couldn’t actually see that. “You mind your business, pretty goalie.”
His cheeks went rosy pink, and he sat back quickly, turning his face toward the window.
Alexio was more fixated on making sure I hadn’t left any random dust behind, and he took another ten minutes before he was ready to hit the road.
I’d spent half the night awake, thinking about Micah and his body and his mouth and his kisses. About the way he writhed against me and wordlessly begged me to make him feel good.
About the way he seemed to melt when I wrapped tightly around him. And the way he clung to me at the club.
I wanted to know more, of course. About the person who was making him look so afraid. The man who had stalked him and made me want to commit actual murder for having the audacity to breathe the same air as my pretty little goalie.
But it was obvious Micah had shared what he planned to already, and that had to be enough. He wasn’t an open person, and I had learned hard lessons about pushing people to do things they didn’t want to do.
Whatever friendship Micah and I had—and whatever else it was and could be—it was fragile. For the first time in a long, long time, I found myself wanting to be careful.
Unfortunately—or maybe fortunately, I didn’t know—the gentle swaying of Alexio’s car mixed with my fatigue, and before we were on the freeway, I was asleep.
I woke what felt like a million hours later but was probably only two, as Alexio was pulling into a gas station. I frowned, scrubbing my face, then stretched with a loud groan.
“Jesus, you’re like a fucking bear.”
“Yes,” I told Alexio with a grin. “You needing gas? It was full before.”
“My baby takes a lot of fuel. Plus, I need a piss, and we’re hungry.”
We, meaning him and Micah. They must have been talking while I was asleep, and I felt a pulse of regret for having missed it. What did Alexio know now that I didn’t?
I probably had no rights to those possessive feelings in me, but it was hard to give a shit when I wanted Micah as badly as I did.
“Yes, same. I will eat horse.”
“I…okay,” Alexio said from behind a sigh.
“I say it wrong?”
He shook his head as he pulled up to a gas pump. The place had a sign boasting something about the best fried chicken from somewhere. I still wasn’t good with the English alphabet, but I got the gist.
“Okay. We go get table. You can put fuel in your baby and meet us,” I said, jumping out. I didn’t want to hear if Micah was going to reject me.
Waiting as patiently as I could, it took everything in me not to wrench the door open and yank him into my arms. Eventually, he did appear, one hand on the car, the other holding his cane so tightly his knuckles were yellow-white.
“Is there…problem?” I asked, stepping close to him.
He let out a small breath. “I don’t…can we not tell people? What happened?”
“You’re in the closet?”
He choked. “Oh my god. No. But…it’s complicated. I—” Micah was interrupted as Alexio appeared, loud enough with his footsteps it was obvious Micah had heard him.
“Do you need instructions? An invitation, maybe?” Alexio asked.
I flipped him off as I tapped Micah with my elbow, and after a long, hesitating moment, he took it. His grip was tight, nails digging into my skin, but I said nothing as we made our way inside.
