But though Micah never spoke about it, I knew it was hurting him. He always got a look on his face when his dad came up in conversation. The look was even worse when it involved his mom.
I wasn’t surprised Micah hadn’t been to visit Peter, and a small part of me wondered if he disliked me because every now and again, I would go with Jonah when he checked up on him.
“Did he tell you what—” My words stopped when the door opened and Micah walked back intothe restaurant. His brows were furrowed, and he looked a little lost. “You need help?”
He sighed, then made his way over, knocking into fewer tables this time. He reached the booth beside ours before realizing he was at the wrong spot, then shifted to the left and took the seat he’d abandoned before.
“Is everything okay?” I couldn’t help but ask.
He swallowed heavily. “Yeah. I…” For a moment, I thought he wasn’t going to answer. “My, uh…Peter,” he said, like he couldn’t bring himself to call him father, “somehow got out today.”
Alexio winced. “Shit. I had a feeling, but Jonah didn’t want to say.”
“He is okay?” I asked.
Micah’s nose wrinkled. “I guess, yeah. One of the nurses found him at the gas station about a mile down the road. He’s back in his room now.”
I let out a breath and fought the urge to pull him close, but I didn’t think he’d appreciate a hug right now.
“Can we go?” Micah said after a tense moment of silence. “I want to get home.”
“Yeah,” Alexio said softly. “Let’s hit the road.”
Micah didn’t put up a fight when he took my arm and let me lead him back outside to the car. I hated watching him get into the back seat by himself. I wanted to be next to him. To pull him close. To have the right to openly comfort him because it was obvious he needed it.
But under Alexio’s annoyingly watchful eye, Icouldn’t. I had to respect what Micah wanted, so I climbed into the seat, pretended like I wasn’t watching him through my little side mirror, and tried my best to forget the taste of him on my lips.
I failed, of course, but it didn’t matter.
He was worth it.
CHAPTER FOUR
MICAH
Tryingto focus on hockey when it felt like someone had strung me up by the ankles and forced me to navigate the world walking on my hands was next to impossible. I could hear the tension in Ben’s voice when I missed the fifth shot on goal, and I knew I was going to fuck tomorrow’s game if I didn’t get out of my own head.
Or if I got back in it.
Frankly, I had no idea what I needed.
Every time it was still and quiet, I was either thinking about my dad, that fuck-face Hunter, or the way it felt in Vanya’s arms to be held and kissed and fucked until I understood what it meant to see stars.
I rubbed myself raw right before leaving for the arena, but even coming as hard as I did didn’t take the edge off how much I still wanted Vanya. He was the worst temptation. He was the forbidden fruit, and I was the fool willing to sell all of humanity to sin for another bite.
But I wasn’t going to let myself destroy what little peace I’d built just to get my rocks off.
Not because I was ashamed. The fact that he thought that for even a second was killing me. It was entirely because he was too good for me. I always made a mess of things, and Vanya deserved someone better than that.
Never mind he was the first number my thumb always hovered over when I wanted something. Never mind anytime Jonah mentioned he was hanging out with Vanya, I wanted to spit acid with my jealousy.
I’d done this to myself. I had no one else to blame but me.
“You wanna tell me what the fuck is going on out there?” Ben demanded as I hit the wall and used my stick to guide me toward the door.
“No.”
“Too fucking bad.” There was a heavy silence, and then he said, “My office, twenty minutes.”
