Page 69 of Safe Place

Then it hits me. This isn’t my bed. This is Micah’s bed.

I sit up quickly, my heart skipping. What⁠⁠—

And then yesterday crashes back in pieces. The C minus. My stepfather’s upcoming release. Carter. Micah showing up for me—again—and taking me here, to his apartment, telling me to rest. I must’ve passed out instantly, because I don’t even remember lying down. His mattress is unfairly comfortable.

Then it clicks—Saturday. Work.

I fumble around the bed, looking for my phone. It’s here somewhere—I definitely brought it—but my mind’s still too jumbled, my hands clumsy as I search the sheets. My eyes dart to the clock on the wall instead. Ten in the morning

Shit. Shit. Shit. I’m late for my shift at the cafe. Again.

I scramble out of bed, tugging at the hem of Micah’s sweater I have on, rushing toward the door.

“Morning, beautiful,” his voice calls from the kitchen, calm but firm. “And where do you think you’re going?”

I whirl around. He’s standing there holding a coffee and a water bottle, extending the latter toward me.

“I have work. I’m late. Sorry, I’ll take the coffee another⁠⁠—”

“You’re not working.” His tone is final. “I already told them to cancel your shifts for the next week.”

I stare at him, stunned. “Micah, no. I can’t afford to take a whole week off.”

He takes a step closer, expression soft but unwavering. “Sophie, I paid your rent for the rest of the year. There’s only a month left anyway. And before you try to argue—don’t. I’m not letting it go this time. Write down what I paid if you need to, and pay me back later, if that makes you feel better.”

I open my mouth to protest, but the words don’t come. I’m too tired to fight him on this. And the truth is, it’s help I desperately need.

“Thank you,” I say quietly, surprising even myself by not arguing.

“Good.” His voice softens. “Now, put this on and go lie back down.”

He hands me the same soft top and bottoms I wore the last time I stayed here. “The doctor will be here soon. He works for the family, so don’t worry about the cost.”

“I have to go back to the student center.” I tell him. “I left all my stuff there.”

“We’ll go later. Together. But you need to rest right now.”

I don’t even try to protest this time. Something in me just gives out. I’m too tired to keep pretending I can carry all of this alone. Maybe it’s not even a choice anymore—there’s just too much, and I can’t keep hiding it from Micah forever. And for once, I don’t want to. If he eventually leaves me, I’ll deal with it then.

I take the clothes, nod, and head back toward his room.

He doesn’t follow me right away—he just watches, his expression soft but worried, like he’s making sure I won’t change my mind and bolt.

When I slide back under the covers, the familiar scent of him settles over me. For the first time in days, maybe weeks, my chest loosens.

I curl against the pillow, pulling the blanket up to my chin, and let my eyes close.

For once, I don’t feel like I have to stay alert. For once, I let myself feel safe.

The doctor had just left after asking a few questions and checking me over. He’d been gentle and professional, but I still hated every second of being examined and feeling fragile. I hear his low voice murmuring to Micah on the other side of the door, too muffled for me to make out the words.

A moment later, the soft hum of the elevator signals he’s gone.

I take a breath, tug Micah’s sweater tighter around me, and step back into the living room.

Micah is standing there, leaning against the counter, and when he sees me, his lips tilt into that soft smile that always manages to make my chest ache.

“See?” he says, his voice warm. “Told you—you need rest.”