Page 42 of Safe Place

The problem is that I can’t be casual with Micah. I could’ve gone on a few dates with someone like Holden maybe, without getting swept away—he’s safe, easy, no real risk. Or just had fun without real feelings—like Poppy always tells me to do.

But Micah?

Micah feels like a risk. The kind of risk that could break me if I let him too close.

He tilts his head slightly, lips tugging into that knowing grin of his. “You’re quiet, Soph. Is that a yes?”

I shake my head quickly, maybe too quickly. “I don’t know.” My voice sounds embarrassingly breathless.

“Listen, Sophie. I don’t know what Ella said to you, or what you might’ve heard, but I’m not playing around with you. I’m not killing time. And I’m definitely not spending time with you out of pity.” His voice is calm, earnest. “If that were the case, I wouldn’t have made a complete fool of myself in front of Holden earlier.”

His grin only deepens, and he leans in just a little, lowering his voice like he’s letting me in on a secret. “Let’s have fun. Go on dates. Travel. Think about it.” Then softer, “I’m not going anywhere.”

And that’s exactly the problem.

“Come on,” he says, motioning toward the island. “You haven’t eaten yet, right? Sit. I’ll get you a plate.”

“I’m fine⁠⁠—”

“Sophie.” His tone is firm but warm, like he’s not giving me a choice, and for some reason, I don’t hate it. “You’ve been working all day. Eat.”

I glance toward the island and blink. “Micah, what is all this?”

The entire countertop is covered—pasta in cream and red sauces, baskets of garlic bread, fried calamari, and at least three different salads.

He rubs the back of his neck, looking almost sheepish. “I’d cook for you, but I’m terrible at it. So I ordered a little bit of everything.”

“A little bit?” I say, raising a brow.

He smirks and points to one of the plates. “And this—” he taps the container of bruschetta “—you liked this at the restaurant last night.”

I look closer. It’s not just one or two plates. There are five. At least.

“Micah…” I can’t help the way my chest tightens. Nobody’s ever done something like this for me before. “You didn’t have to.”

“I told you I’d have dinner ready,” he cuts in easily, his grin softening into something gentler. “So sit, Soph. Eat with me.”

My heart does another somersault, and I slide onto the stool, trying not to smile too hard as he starts opening containers for me.

We’re finishing up dinner when my phone buzzes. One glance at the name on the screen, and my chest tightens. My stomach knots so fast it almost hurts, and my hand trembles slightly as I swipe it open.

Carter

Busy today, sweetheart. I’ll let you get paid for the hour. But my patience is running thin, so give me an answer by the next session.

Oh and by the way, I left you something at the student center. Pick it up today, or I’ll just have it delivered to your work. Would be nice if you had it the next time I saw you.

I swallow hard, forcing down the nausea crawling up my throat. Even reading his words makes my skin feel too tight, like I need to scrub them off me. Sweetheart. The way he wrote it makes me feel like I’m already trapped in whatever filthy game he’s playing. I don’t even want to know what he left for me to go pick up. But I can’t have whatever it is, delivered to the cafe.

I exhale slowly, shoulders sagging with reluctant relief. At least that’s one more session I don’t have to sit across from him. I haven’t officially dropped him as a student yet because he’s all I’ve got right now—no other students have requested me, and I need every bit of money I can get.

Westcliffe only allows up to five “sick day” cancellations that still count as paid hours, and I’m trying to collect as much as I can before I finally cut ties for good.

But I know I’ll have to cancel him soon. Obviously, I’m not accepting his offer—just thinking about it makes my stomach churn. But I’m also scared of what he might do if I push him too far. He made it very clear his family has money and power, and I have neither. One rumor, one whisper in the wrong ear, and everything I’ve worked for could fall apart. I need to keep my record clean. I need law school. I need a secure future.

“Who was that?” Micah asks, his tone sharp with suspicion. “What’s wrong?”

My throat tightens. I want to tell him—God, I want to let him fix this, to let myself believe I’m safe with him. But Carter’s family has money and power, and if I drag Micah into this, Carter might try to ruin him, too. I can’t let that happen.