Page 4 of Safe Place

His eyes stay on the door for a beat longer, chest rising with silent fury. “Are you okay?” he asks, voice a bit softer now. “I can go after him.”

“I’m fine. I’m sure I won’t see him again,” I say. But my voice wavers at the end. Because I’m not sure if that’s true.

He turns back to me and I meet his eyes. Then he glances down at my name tag. Of course he doesn’t remember my name, though we literally exchanged numbers two hours ago.

“Sophie.” He says. “What time do you get off work?” he asks. “I live in the building next door. I’ll be here. Just in case.”

I want to say no, that I’m fine. But the truth is, I’m scared.

“Four,” I manage.

Micah nods. “Four it is.”

TWO

I did something meaningful for once

SOPHIE

I feel the safest when I’m working. Usually. The cafe stays busy enough that I’m never really alone, and the noise helps drown out everything else. Same with the campus bookstore—constant motion, people coming and going, though it’s been slower these days. As long as I’m surrounded by others, I know no one can get to me. Not them. Not again.

I wish my scholarship covered housing so I could live in one of the Westcliffe dorms, where there’s security and community and walls that feel less thin. But it doesn’t. And a tiny off-campus apartment was all I could afford. Putting myself through school here isn’t easy. Life is expensive, and juggling two jobs is exhausting. But it’ll be worth it. If I can just keep pushing through, I’ll get into Westcliffe Law. It’s one of the best in the country—and the key to making sure no one like them ever has power over me again.

At exactly three thirty—thirty minutes before my shift ends—Micah walks in. I wasn’t sure he’d actually come. Part of me assumed he’d forget. But the moment I see him, something in me eases. My shoulders drop. My chest loosens. I hadn’t realized how tense I’d been until that very second—how the anxiety had been slowly building as the end of my shift crept closer.

We make eye contact, and he gives me a smile and a small nod—almost identical to the one he gave me in class this morning. Apparently my brain is happy to see him, because I respond with one of the most awkward waves of all time. He’s wearing that green Westcliffe sweatshirt again. Maybe it’s to make the whole boyfriend thing seem more believable in case the creep from earlier shows up.

Micah said he lives in the building next to the cafe. Someone like him would never willingly hang out with me—a scholarship student struggling to make ends meet. I see the place every time I come in for a shift. The Haven at Vale. All glass and elegance, and floor-to-ceiling windows. It’s a luxury apartment complex that certainly belongs in a world that’s different than mine.

I make a quick iced hazelnut latte because I don’t know what he likes, but he shouldn’t have to stand in line and pay again when he’s here because of me.

“You actually came,” I say, my voice quieter than I expect, as I approach him with the drink.

“Thanks.” He takes the drink with an easy smile. “And of course I did.”

I glance down, suddenly hyper-aware of my apron and coffee-stained shoes, compared to his perfectly ironed slacks and spotless white sneakers.

“I wasn’t sure you would,” I admit, trying to sound casual.

“And risk that sleazebag coming back to harass you?” he says, eyebrows furrowed like it wasn’t even up for debate. “Not a chance.”

After my shift ends, I untie my apron and glance toward the entrance. Micah is already waiting by the door, sipping what’s left of his latte. When I walk over, he straightens a little.

“I’ll walk you to your car,” he says easily.

“I don’t have a car.”

He blinks. “Then how do you get back and forth?”

“There’s a bus. Technically.” I adjust the strap on my bag. “But it’s a hit-or-miss. Half the time it doesn’t come. I usually just walk.”

“What? That’s got to be, what—thirty minutes?”

“Twenty-five if I walk fast,” I correct him. Then I quickly add, “I like the walk. It gives me time to wind down.” That’s a lie. I walk because it’s free.

Micah studies me for a beat. His jaw tightens like he’s in thought. Then he nods once. “Come on.”

He heads out the cafe door without another word, and something about the quiet certainty of it makes me follow. We walk right next door and stop at the entrance of The Haven at Vale.