Page 56 of Micah
Not with pity.
Something else.
Something warmer.
It’s like nobody has ever simply taken care of her before.
That realization guts me.
I don't think.
Thinking is dangerous around Sloane.
Thinking reminds me that I barely know this woman.
That I've spent weeks watching her instead of talking to her.
That any reasonable person might find me creepy as hell.
Instead, I act.
Slowly.
Giving her every opportunity to stop me.
I lift my hands.
She watches them rise.
She doesn't step back.
Doesn't flinch.
Doesn't tell me no.
My palms settle gently against her cheeks.
They're warm.
Softer than I imagined.
She lets out the tiniest breath.
I swear my own heart forgets how to beat.
God.
She's right here.
After weeks of watching her from across crowded rooms...
After pretending I only came for burgers and beer...
After lying to myself that changing her filters was just being helpful...
She's finally standing close enough to touch.
My thumbs brush her cheeks almost without permission.
