I’d seen that rage before, but it hadn’t been directed at me that time. It’d been for the man who’d soundly and fairly beaten him in a fight.
When I’d seen those eyes go dark right before Brady reached into his pocket for his switchblade, I’d never been so afraid.
But not for me.
I’d been afraid for the man who wouldn’t see that blade coming as it sank into his body.
So I’d done the unthinkable…
“Micah?”
The sound of Con’s voice ripped me back to the present hard and fast. Too fast.
“No!” I screamed as I clutched the box of noodles in my hand. Brady, his hand raised and the lights glinting off the blade of his knife, disappeared just like that, and I was left staring at a startled Con.
The relief at seeing him standing there before me was profound but left me reeling with guilt. So much guilt that I couldn’t breathe.
“Micah?” I heard him say softly and then he was there next to me, easing the box of noodles from my grip. I wanted to laugh and cry at the same time because the man was finally touching me again like I’d been secretly craving for days.
Only I couldn’t even enjoy it because I was too busy remembering the moment when I’d betrayed my brother for the man standing before me.
And worse, I knew in that instant that even knowing what I knew now, if given the chance to do it all over again, I’d do the same thing. I’d call out to Con in warning and condemn my brother to a fate that, for him, had been worse than death.
Oh God.
Chapter Eleven
Con
“Micah?” I repeated, letting my fingers skim his cheek even as my brain warned me not to. But for the life of me, I couldn’t step away from him.
Three days.
Three long fucking days of not touching him, not speaking to him.
It might as well have been a lifetime.
So much for keeping your distance, Con.
The voice in my head had me hesitating because it was spot on. From the moment I’d lied to Micah and told him I was only helping him so I could assuage my guilt, I’d forced myself to keep some space between myself and my charges, especially the one I seemed to have particular trouble keeping my hands off of. But it had been pure hell to have Micah so close and yet have him be so completely out of my reach.
Until now.
My instinct for self-preservation had me stepping back but I hadn’t even made it a step before Micah whispered, “Con.”
That was it.
Just my name.
Just my name and his shimmering eyes lifting for the briefest of moments to meet mine and I knew what he wanted.
What he needed.
I didn’t question it and I didn’t hesitate. I simply stepped forward again until there were mere inches separating us. I had enough sense to put the box of noodles back on the shelf with my right hand while my left snaked up to gently curl around the back of Micah’s neck.
His skin felt cold.
So fucking cold.
Micah’s pained eyes were filled with so much confusion and need that I heard myself murmuring, “It’s okay.”
Those simple words seemed to unlock something inside of the young man before me because just like that, tears began to silently slip down his cheeks and when I pulled him toward me, he came without hesitation. His arms slipped around my waist and as soon as he pressed his face against the crook of my neck, a harsh sob bubbled up from his throat. I couldn’t even begin to fathom what had caused the sudden raw pain to consume him, but I didn’t care. I dropped my lips to his temple and kissed him softly before repeating the same reassurances over and over.
That he was okay, that he was safe, that I wasn’t going anywhere.
“Sorry,” Micah choked out. “Sorry,” he repeated with a shake of his head. I could feel his hot tears on my skin.
“Shhhh, it’s okay, sweetheart,” I murmured in response.
“I couldn’t let him do it,” Micah said. “It’s my fault.”
“What’s your fault?” I asked in confusion. “Who are you talking about, baby?”
I felt Micah shake his head against my neck, so I figured that was the only response I was going to get.
“Let him go!”
Micah stiffened in my arms at the same time that I instinctively gripped him tighter. I didn’t recognize the voice coming from behind me at first, but my gut was telling me who it likely belonged to.
“Christopher,” Micah breathed as I turned around.
Despite knowing it was his nephew who’d shouted the order, I found myself keeping Micah behind me as I turned around. Something in my belly was telling me I wouldn’t just find a frightened kid standing behind me.
That something was right.
Because when I turned, it wasn’t just a scared shitless Christopher confronting me.