I let out a trembling breath, then cleared my throat. “Alright. But it must be quick.”
“I’m only human,” he reminded me, then hung up. It was just as well. I was in no mood for small talk or long goodbyes.
I knew I had to call Micah, but I needed to do something else too, and Katya was next on my list.
“Is he dead?” she asked in English when she picked up.
I sighed and answered in Russian. “If you mean Hunter…”
“The stalker bastard?” she spat back in our native tongue. “Yes, I mean him.”
“No. He’s alive. He got to Micah’s apartment too. Same thing he did to mine.”
She released a long string of swears. “You know I hate the police, but?—”
“I called Tyoma,” I told her. “He’s asking for forty-eight hours.”
She was silent for a beat, and then she said, “He ruined my Manolos, Vanya. And my Birkin bag.”
She had worked hard for those. No, she’d worked more than hard for those. She’d sacrificed sleep, and peace, and had little joy for years to get to where she was so she could afford the things she liked.
Also, that bag was a gift I’d given her when she graduated with her MBA after I’d gotten my first real NHL paycheck. That alone left me freshly pissed off.
“We will make him pay,” I told her. “We just need time, and I need somewhere to stay. Don’t you have a friend who does rentals?”
She groaned. “Yes, but finding something short-term is a giant pain in the ass. Let me see what I can do. I’ll go down to the desk here and book you a room.”
“Double beds,” I told her. Micah was probably going to put up a fight about coming with me, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t going to feel okay until he was by my side. I could give him his own bed, his own space, but I would not sleep if I couldn’t reach out and touch him.
He would have to accept my compromise.
“Whatever you say,” she said, then hung up.
I fell back against the seat, let out a small breath,then picked up my phone one more time and dialed the one person whose voice I wanted to hear. And the one person I was going to have to hurt with everything I now knew.
The drive to Caleb’s felt surreal. Micah seemed upset, but he didn’t sound furious to hear from me, though that might change when he realized I was definitely not five minutes away from Caleb’s. But I needed to reassure him I was on my way, and I needed to give myself some time to gather my thoughts as I headed over.
First, I had to convince Micah that staying with me was the safest course of action. Second, I had to convince him that he needed to tell his friends and his brothers what was going on. He was a stubborn, gorgeous, perfect little shit, and I had faith I could do it.
Just like I had faith he was going to put up a fight.
I got to Caleb’s house a little sooner than I would have liked, and there were several cars I recognized parked along the street. Micah’s friends were here, and I was hoping Jonah was too.
When I pulled into the driveway and got out, the front door opened, and Micah was there. He looked rumpled and exhausted, his hair all over the place, his clothes wrinkled, cheeks mottled pink like maybe he’d been crying.
He was tense as I approached, and I stopped afew feet away, not giving in to the urge to dive at him and wrap him up in my arms.
“Vanya,” he said. His voice was soft. Tender. Shattered.
“Sorry I come with bad news.”
“Are you serious?”
“I—”
“You’re not fucking blaming yourself for any of this shit. I wouldn’t have known about it for weeks if you hadn’t called. I wasn’t ever going to go back there except to get Fish, and I—oh god, Fish!”
“He’s okay. I have him in my car,” I told him softly. “He’s safe.”
