Sadie: He knows You want us to come home?
I hesitate. The storm rattles the window again, as if reminding me I’m not as brave as I want to be.
Me: I’m okay. Really. Don’t ruin the studio vibe. I’ll survive.
Sadie: You sure? Mikey’s here. I can send him if you want.
My pulse jumps at his name. It shouldn’t. It does anyway.
Me: No. It’s fine. I’m fine.
The lie tastes like pride. Sadie doesn’t respond immediately. I can practically hear her eyebrow lifting. The phone buzzes again.
Sadie: Okay, but if you change your mind, say the word. Love you.
I set the phone down and stare into the candlelight. It’s fine. The storm is just weather. I’m just in a quiet house. The thunder cracks again, and this time my breath catches, sharp and involuntary.
I squeeze my eyes shut, furious at myself. I deal with traumatized teenagers for a living. I’m trained to regulate emotions, to ground, to breathe through panic. And yet, in this moment, my body has decided that a thunderstorm is a worthy adversary. I sit, wound tight as a ball of tape, trying for the next twenty minutes to convince myself I’m completely safe.
A knock echoes through the house. I go completely still. The sound is muffled through the storm, but it’s unmistakable. Three firm raps against the front door. My heart lurches. Who the hell would be out in this storm? Another knock. I sit up, phone snatched into my hand so fast it’s almost comical. I shine the flashlight toward the hallway like I expect to see a masked intruder.
“Hello?” My voice comes out higher than I want.
“Quinn?” The voice on the other side familiar, low and calm. Relief hits so hard my knees feel weak. I stand and walk quickly to the door, unlocking it before yanking it open. Mikey stands on the porch, rainwater dripping from his hair, shoulders damp, a hoodie pulled over his head like he tried to outsmart the weather and lost.
He had to have come straight from the studio, and something about that, about him showing up like it mattered, steals the breath from me for a different reason.
His eyes sweep over me in a quick assessment. “You, okay?”
I swallow, trying to find my composure. “I’m fine.”
Mikey’s brow lifts slightly, his gaze flicking past me into the dark house. “Power’s out.”
“Really,” I quip, defensive for no reason. “I hadn’t noticed.”
He steps inside without asking, closing the door behind him and shaking water off his sweatshirt like a dog. “I came to see if you wanted to come over to the studio,” he explains casually. “Storm is pretty bad. Figured you might not want to be here alone.”
I tighten my grip on the phone. “I’m not helpless.”
“I didn’t say you were.” His tone stays easy, but his eyes catch mine; steady, unflinching. “I said you might not want to be alone.”
The distinction matters. My throat tightens. “Did Sadie tell you to come?”
Mikey’s mouth twitches. “She mentioned the power might be out. I heard the thunder and,” he shrugs, “decided to check.”
Check. Like I’m something worth checking on. He walks into the living room, pausing when he sees the candles. The warm glow lights his face in soft gold, carving shadows into his cheekbones and jaw. He looks different here. Less like a rockstar and more like a regular man. Which is much more dangerous.
He spots me hovering near the doorway like I don’t know where to put myself, and his expression softens. “You already got the candles going,” he notes approvingly. “Look at you. Survivalist.”
“Don’t patronize me,” I mutter in an attempt to hide a smile, the sting gone.
He laughs quietly as he yanks the wet hoodie over his head and drapes it over the back of a chair before dropping onto the edge of the couch, elbows on his knees. “I’m not patronizing. I’m impressed.”
I notice that his t-shirt is a bit damp, causing it to stick in all the right places. I hover a beat longer before I sit on the opposite end of the couch, leaving an unreasonable amount of space between us.
Mikey glances at me. “You want to go to the studio?”
I open my mouth to say yes, because that’s sensible. There’s power there. People. Noise. Distraction. Then thunder cracks overhead, so loud the windows rattle, and my body betrays me with a sharp inhale.
