Page 192 of Micah

“What are you doing?” she asks, her voice still watery.

“Taking you somewhere comfortable.”

“You don't have to carry me.”

“I know.”

She smiles through the last of her tears.

“I can walk.”

“I know.”

“But you're still carrying me.”

“Yep.”

A tiny laugh escapes her.

“I think you're impossible.”

“I've heard that.”

“I believe it.”

I carry her down the hallway to the bedroom.

She doesn't argue again. She simply settles against me, one hand resting over my heart, her precious head leaning on my shoulder.

Every now and then she glances up at me like she's still trying to figure me out.

Good luck with that.

I'm still trying to figure myself out.

I sit on the edge of the bed with her in my lap.

Neither of us speaks for a long while.

I just hold her.

Feel her breathing begin to slow. Feel the tension gradually leave her body.

Every so often she strokes absentmindedly through my beard, like the motion comforts her as much as holding her comforts me.

Maybe it does. Fuck, I hope it does.

Time loses all meaning.

The afternoon sunlight shifts across the hardwood floor.

The cabin settles around us with familiar creaks.

Outside, a breeze rattles the leaves.

Inside? The world shrinks until it's only us.

Being alone with her, it’s inevitable that one thing leads naturally to another.