Page 70 of Safe Place

I roll my eyes, though my heart isn’t in it. “I’m fine, really. You can go. I’m sure you had things planned for today.”

He covers a fake cough with his fist. “I called in sick,” he says, then he flashes that signature golden boy smile.

Relief crashes through me so strong I don’t even think—I move before I can stop myself.

I cross the room in quick steps and jump into his arms, wrapping my arms around his neck. His hands catch me immediately, strong and steady, and when he lifts me effortlessly, my legs curl around his waist.

I press my mouth to his, and he kisses me back instantly.

It’s not soft or hesitant. It’s deep, hungry, and feels like everything we’ve been holding back—his hands grip me tighter, my fingers tangle in his hair, and our breaths quicken as if neither of us wants to stop. His chest presses against mine, heat spreading everywhere he touches.

But then he pulls back, his forehead resting against mine, his breathing uneven.

“God, I hate myself for saying this,” he murmurs, voice low and rough, “but I can’t—we can’t—have sex. Not yet. Not until I know you’re okay. Stable.”

My heart twists, because even now, with his hands firm on my waist, he’s still putting me first.

He gently lowers me to the ground, though his arms stay around me, keeping me close.

“Sophie,” he says softly, and when I meet his eyes, there’s something raw there. “I was so scared last night. I’ve never felt that helpless in my life. I didn’t know what to do for you, and I hated myself for that.”

My chest tightens, and guilt pools in my stomach.

“How did you know you just needed a minute?” His voice is quieter now, but it carries weight. “How many times has this happened to you?”

I bite my lip, hesitating, but something in me—maybe the exhaustion, maybe the way he’s looking at me like I’m the only thing that matters—makes me want to finally let him in.

“It’s…not unusual,” I admit quietly. “I get panic attacks sometimes. I just—I have to do better at avoiding the triggers.” I force a small smile, even if it feels brittle. “It’s not a big deal, really.”

His jaw tightens instantly, his gray eyes hardening.

“Not a big deal?” His voice sharpens, frustrated. “No. This is not normal, Sophie. Keep avoiding the triggers for now, but let me get rid of them for good. Tell me what they are and let me handle it.” His grip on my waist tightens, protective, almost desperate. “I don’t know what I’d do if I ever saw you like that again.”

I swallow hard, blinking rapidly, trying to keep the tears from spilling. I’ve never had anyone look at me like this, never had someone so willing to fight for me without hesitation. It’s overwhelming, and I don’t trust my voice enough to speak.

But Micah notices anyway. His expression softens instantly, his thumb brushing the side of my waist gently, almost like he’s apologizing for pushing too hard.

“Baby,” he murmurs. “Come here.”

I lean into him, and he pulls me in tight, his arms wrapping around me like he’s not letting go anytime soon. The steady warmth of him seeps into me, and I feel myself start to ease.

MICAH

I love this—Sophie’s curled up next to me on the sofa, tugging at the sleeves of my sweater like she’s trying to disappear into it. God, she’s beautiful. Chestnut brown hair a little messy, cheeks still flushed from earlier, drowning in my sweater that’s too big for her. And I can’t stop staring.

We went back to campus earlier to grab her bag and laptop, and she was tense the entire time. I walked in with her, just in case, and I could sense that she was scared. She has this way of pretending everything’s fine, brushing it off like it doesn’t matter—but I’ve learned to see through the tough act.

Now, she finally seems more at ease, her body relaxed against mine. Still, she stays quiet for a long moment before she speaks.

“Micah, do you remember the day we first met, at the cafe? The guy who⁠⁠—”

“Yes.” My answer is immediate, clipped. I don’t let her finish. I don’t want to hear the rest, don’t want to recollect what he said to her.

She swallows, taking a shaky breath. “He found me after that. He must’ve seen my name tag that day. And he was the one who requested me as a tutor.”

My heart sinks like a stone. Rage burns hot in my chest, and for a second, I can’t even move.

“Shit.” I drag a hand through my hair, the weight of it all crashing down on me. “I saw him. At the student center—one of the days I saw you walk in there.” My voice tightens. “I brushed it off because the timing didn’t line up with yours. But I saw him.”