Page 229 of Micah

She simply curls against my chest and says take me home.

Her forehead settles beneath my chin.

One hand fists the front of my shirt.

Holding on.

Trusting me.

That trust settles somewhere deep inside my ribs.

Heavy.

Sacred.

Good.

I've got it.

I've got all of it.

She wraps one arm around my neck, her fingers bunching in the fabric of my shirt.

They're still shaking.

Every few steps I glance down at her.

She's exhausted.

Her breathing is steadier now thanks to the inhaler, but her eyes look glassy.

Adrenaline crash.

I've seen it before.

Too many times.

Only never on someone who mattered this much.

I carry her through the broken front doors of The Watering Hole.

The night air is cool against my skin.

Behind us, Sawyer and Benji are already moving.

No words.

No discussion.

They don't need them.

Sawyer starts righting overturned tables with the same efficiency he uses sorting cattle.

Alex disappears into the kitchen, checking every room.

Benji stoops to grab keys from where they'd landed near the register.

Our eyes meet for half a second.