I close my eyes. Where the hell did Micah come from?
“You’re right. I heard you. I’m done here.” Shayne starts to skirt around the hood of my car, but Micah meets him there. Carter manages to circle in the other direction and takes off in a sprint for his car. He starts it up and peels out of the parking lot.
“That’s great. Unfortunately for you, I’m not.” Micah’s body is scarily tense when his gaze travels back to Shayne. I can already tell this won’t end well. Without looking over at me, Micah asks, “Daph, are you okay?”
I swallow hard. I desperately want to say, Yes. Because you’re here. But I don’t. I can’t. “I’m fine. Shayne and Carter forgot the importance of giving a girl personal space and the meaning of the word no.” I press my lips together, looking back and forth between them.
Shayne makes the mistake of sneering at me. What happens next all seems to unfold in slow motion. Micah’s big body winds up, his muscles contract, and bam! His fist flies, barreling right into Shayne’s gut.
Shayne keels over. He doesn’t even have the breath to cry out or say anything.
Micah’s gaze shifts to me, his jaw twitching. “You’re sure you’re okay?”
I nod stiffly. “I’ve been hurt worse. Just this past weekend, in fact. And it was way worse than anything Shayne or Carter could possibly dole out.” My eyes flick away from him, and I blink rapidly.
Say something. Unbreak my heart, Micah. Tell me it was all a mistake—that you’re sorry.
But there’s nothing except a slight twitching of his jaw as we stare at each other. Swinging my bag onto my shoulder, I brush past both of them.
I’m almost out of the parking lot when I hear Shayne shoot off his mouth again. “Fuck, man. Looks like you pissed her off good.”
The sound of crunching bone meets my ears. I assume that this time Micah’s fist ended up in Shayne’s face. I don’t stick around to find out.