Page 126 of What We Become

“Let me take you home,” Amy says.

“I’m good,” I say, “but thanks. I’ve got a ride.”

She cocks her head, skepticism written all over her. “Does this ride have a pulse and a name, or is it a ride-share situation?”

“Definitely a pulse,” I say, lips twitching. “Knox has been on watch, but Micah should be here any⁠—”

The bell over the door chimes and Micah’s there, holding a bouquet of tulips. He sees us, grins, and makes a mock bow in my direction.

“Your chariot arrives, milady,” he says, and hands me the flowers, and I immediately press my lips to his.

“Thank you. They’re beautiful.”

Micah kisses me back like he’s been waiting all day to do exactly that, one hand sliding warm around my waist, the other still holding on to his keys. The tulips get crushed slightly between us, and I don’t even care.

When I pull back, Amy’s eyebrows have climbed so high they’ve almost disappeared into her hairline.

Micah, because he is the most naturally graceful person alive and apparently immune to awkwardness, just smiles at her and offers his hand across the counter like we are in a Jane Austen adaptation instead of a diner that smells like burned oil and maple syrup.

“Hey, Amy. Long time, no see.”

She blinks at him once, then takes his hand. “Setting the standard pretty high for the rest of your harem by bringing flowers, huh?”

“I believe in continuous improvement,” Micah says, and he says it with such a straight face that Amy actually claps once, delighted.

“Sage is lucky to have you.”

“I won’t argue there,” I say, pocketing my tip cash and locker key.

Micah and I head outside. Amy waves us off with a wide smile and a promise that we’ll see each other again soon. Micah opens the passenger door of his hatchback, waits for me to get in, then circles to the driver’s side. We sit for a second in the sun-warmed air of the little car.

“You did it,” he says.

“Yeah.”

“How are you?”

“Still upright.”

He starts the car, but doesn’t pull away just yet. “You want me to tell you that you never have to go back if you don’t want to?”

“Yes.”

“You never have to go back if you don’t want to, Sage.”

I nod and take a deep breath.

“Thank you. I will go back. I think I need to go back, you know? But it feels good hearing it.”

He grins at me, one hand still resting on the gearshift. “You got enough left in the tank for me to steal you for a while?”

I blink at him. The flowers are in my lap, my body is heavy with the kind of exhaustion that comes from holding yourself together all day, and somehow that question still gets a yes out of me before I’ve thought about it.

I angle toward him. “Did you plan something?”

His mouth curves, secretive and pleased, and instead of answering, he puts the car in gear.

“Oh my God,” I say, already smiling. “You absolutely did.”