He rubbed the back of his neck, and I could see his hand was shaking. “Shit. Shit. Thank you. God, I don’t know what to say.” His face tipped up toward the sky, and he let out a slow breath.
“Micah—”
“Can you stop saying my name like that, please?”
I frowned. “Like what?”
“Like you…like you’re happy to see me? Like you want to fucking hug me or something.”
“I can’t. I do.” I was helpless, and the feeling only got worse when he took two steps toward me with his hand out.
He was stiff again, but the look on his face was sure this time, and I realized what he wanted. “Vanya? Where are you? I need?—”
I didn’t let him finish his sentence. I reached for him, my fingers tangling with his, yanking him against my chest, where he collapsed. He pressedhis nose to my sternum and breathed in deeply as his arms came around me, fingers clawing up my back.
This was all I wanted.
All I needed.
“I don’t deserve this,” he murmured. “After I was such a fucking shit to you…”
“You deserve,” I told him. I felt frantic, and it took everything I had to keep that out of my tone. “You were angry. Maybe scared. I was too much.”
“No, you were perfect, and I was freaking out because I’m a goddamn mess. And—” He stopped abruptly and pulled back. “Are they watching?”
I looked up at the door, which was closed, and immediately saw the curtain in the front window moving. “Yes, I think so.”
“Fantastic. I, uh…” He took a step back away from me, but not so far as to break my hold on him. “I told them about stuff. About Hunter. About how I’m not, you know, the way they think I am.”
“And me?” I asked.
He shook his head, tipping his face down. “No. Not without asking you first.”
I cupped his chin, stroking a thumb along his jaw, and he leaned into the touch. “I am not ashamed of you. Of what we do. You can tell. Is okay.”
His lips twitched. “They’re going to be fucking insufferable.”
“They always are,” I reminded him.
In spite of himself—in spite of everything—he laughed at my little joke, and my heart twisted in mychest. But then his face sobered. “How bad is your place?”
“Bad. Very bad. Hunter—I think he want to hurt you. He put broken glass all over my floor, flood the place, ruin everything. Is same at yours.”
He started shaking again. “I don’t know what to do.” The words came out a ragged whisper full of defeat and pain I couldn’t make better with kissing or fucking or spanking.
But I did have something.
“I will ask you to forgive me,” I started, “but I called someone.”
Micah stiffened. “Who?”
“My brother. In Vegas. He know people who can maybe help. He was going to find the video Hunter say he have…but now I think we need something else.”
“We can’t kill him,” Micah said, his tone now pleading. “I know it’s fucked-up, but we can’t?—”
I tugged him close, cutting him off. “Pretty goalie, we’re not some film here, okay? Is not Russian Mafia taking hits, doing murders. No one getting poisoned. But he maybe know someone who can make this stop. Make Hunter afraid. Or maybe make him go to jail.”
“Okay. Okay.” Micah laid his ear against my heart. It was going a little too fast, but I hoped it was soothing all the same. “Thanks.”
