Page 296 of Breathe Like Hell

Micah.

I dared to meet his eye again, my teeth digging into the inside of my cheek, molars clamping down until I tasted blood. A million different things I could say circled my brain, but none of them ever found my tongue. Messy, twisted, disgusting emotion pumped through every beat of my heart.

The dead air was suffocating me.

“She’s going to be disappointed,” I said under my breath, my eyes sliding to stare out the window again.

“About what?”

“Us.”

“I don’t know what you mean by that.”

But he did know what I meant. When my gaze caught on his, I could see it. Dakota had gone to the bathroom to give us the opportunity to interact alone, but whatever she was hoping for wasn’t within our grasp.

Maybe I wanted it to be.

Maybe I was sick of pretending I didn’t crave every inch of him.

But my cravings could never replace the sick nausea in my stomach every time I thought about the type of life he actually deserved. I wasn’t in it. Even if I wanted to be.

I almost did something terrible to him. I broke him down to nothing, made him feel like he couldn’t be honest, that he had to run. How was I supposed to ignore that now? It didn’t matter if he was content to ignore it, because I felt incapable. Dakota didn’t want me to let Micah slip from my grasp again, but…

“She doesn’t have to be disappointed,” Micah said, something uncharacteristically vulnerable in his gaze, like a thread pulling tight, fraying, trying not to snap.

My heart lurched.

“I don’t know.”

His foot bumped mine under the table. I swallowed hard, trying to force myself to pull away, my pulse beating up in my throat. I didn’t want to be the stain on his life with Dakota.

I couldn’t pull away, though.

His shoe against my shoe.

His eyes holding my eyes.

Do you actually want this?

Do you actually want me?

Do you still love all the parts of myself I hate?

No.

You can’t. You don’t.

“What are you thinking?” he asked. For a moment, I wondered how we looked from an outside perspective. Two men, staring at each other over a stack of blueberry waffles with an intensity that seemed out of place in this diner. Carrying enough history to smother ourselves.

I clenched my jaw.

“I’m thinking about going to get Dakota so she can eat before the waffles get cold.”

“She’ll come back when she’s ready.”

“Do you not want her back?”

“Of course I want her back.” His brows furrowed, anguish etched into his expression.