Page 71 of Safe Place

I swallow hard, shame burning in my chest. “I could’ve helped you months ago. I should have. God, Sophie—I’m so sorry.”

The ugly and relentless truth settles in. I could have stepped in. I could have protected her from all of this. Prevented it before it ever touched her again. Instead, I missed it. And now she’s carrying the weight of another wound she never should’ve had to bear.

I clench my jaw. I failed her.

Her hand brushes my arm quickly, her voice soft but firm. “No, Micah. It’s not your fault. I was the one who didn’t tell you.”

I shake my head, jaw tight. “What’s his name?”

“Carter.” She hesitates for a moment. “Carter Delaney.”

“What year?”

“Same as you. A junior.”

I don’t even think. I pull my phone from my pocket and dial Nico.

“Micah?” Nico answers.

“Hey Nico,” I say quickly, though my voice is tense. “I need you to look into a Carter Delaney for me. Junior at Westcliffe. It’s urgent.”

“Got it. I’ll be in touch soon.” He hangs up.

When I look back, Sophie is sitting so quietly on the sofa, her fingers tugging nervously at the sleeves of my sweater, like she’s trying to make herself smaller. Her teary brown eyes meet mine, and she looks uncertain, maybe even scared of what I might do.

“Who was that?” she asks, concern in her voice.

“Nobody you need to worry about.” I take her hand gently, squeezing it. “Sophie, listen to me. I don't want you wasting another second thinking about him.” My voice softens even as the anger burns low in my chest. “I'm going to handle it.”

“I…I already have things,” she admits quietly.

I pull back just enough to look at her. “Things?”

“Evidence,” she says, like forcing the word out costs her something. “Texts, messages—I saved everything. And I wrote things down too—things he said to me in person, the things he did.” Her fingers curl slightly into my shirt. “The gifts and the—the offers.”

I go completely still.

A sharp, controlled kind of anger settles low in my chest.

“I’m going to report him,” she continues, her voice steadier now, even though I can feel the tension still running through her. “I just—I wanted to make sure I had everything first. So he couldn’t twist it.”

My jaw tightens.

“Sophie,” I say, my voice low, measured, “I wish you would have told me.”

“I know,” she says quickly. “But he said he had money, connections—that he could ruin me.” She swallows. “And I didn’t want you getting dragged into it. I didn’t want it affecting you.”

The words hang between us.

I don’t respond right away. I just look at her, taking in every piece of what she’s saying, every piece of what she’s been carrying alone.

“I’m going to file a complaint,” she says, firmer this time. “I’m reporting him.”

I study her for a second, measuring—not her resolve, but how far she’s already gone by herself. “Good.”

I see the shift in her immediately, like something in her chest finally loosens.

“Send me everything,” I say.