Page 173 of Micah

“I am not whipped.”

“Lil Bit has your balls in her purse.”

“They're in her left pocket,” Sawyer says without missing a beat. “Next to my spare set of truck keys.”

Benji howls.

I shake my head.

Idiots.

Absolute fucking idiots.

The front door opens.

Everything else disappears.

Sloane steps onto the porch.

And she's wearing my T-shirt.

The sleeves hang almost to her elbows, and the hem brushes the tops of her thighs.

Her hair is clean now, loose around her shoulders, catching the morning sunlight until it looks like spun copper.

There's a coffee mug in one hand.

And a smile just for me.

Jesus Christ.

That smile.

It hits me square in the chest.

Not just because it's pretty.

Because it's real.

Relaxed.

Happy.

She looks at home.

And she spots me right away.

Her whole face lights up.

Not because she's trying to be nice or polite. But I think she might be genuinely happy to see me—and that?

That’s worth more than I have in the bank. The realization knocks the wind clean out of me.

There it is.

The answer I've been trying not to admit to myself.

I'm done for.