Page 264 of Micah

I swear I see him swallow.

“Oh,” I whisper.

The emotion on his face steals every ounce of air from my lungs.

That's love.

Pure.

Unfiltered.

Absolute.

Every step toward him brings another memory.

The quiet cowboy nursing one beer for three hours just so he could watch over me.

The ridiculous tips.

The new filters in my van.

The first time he called me Princess.

The kiss behind the dumpster.

Finding out he'd been watching over me from afar for months.

Most women would probably call that creepy.

Maybe it should've scared me.

Instead, it made perfect sense.

Because that's Micah.

He doesn't know how to love halfway. He protects. He watches. He notices. He remembers.

That's his love language.

And God help me...

I'm an absolute sucker for it.

By the time I reach him, tears blur my vision.

He reaches for both my hands before anyone tells him he can.

Our fingers lace together.

Warm.

Steady.

Home.

“You look beautiful,” he whispers.

“So do you.”