Page 96 of Micah

Because somehow, standing beside Micah Fiero feels as natural as breathing.

And suddenly, the whole world feels a little less frightening.

Chapter 12-Micah

I don't realize how hard I'm gripping the steering wheel until my knuckles ache.

The drive back to my cabin feels longer than it should.

Sloane sits quietly in the passenger seat, wrapped in one of the blankets I keep behind the seat for winter emergencies and transporting calves.

She's curled into herself, staring out into the darkness beyond the windshield.

She hasn't cried.

Not once.

Somehow that worries me more.

The strongest people always hold it together until they finally make it somewhere safe.

Only then do they fall apart.

I intend to make damn sure she's somewhere safe.

By the time I pull up outside my cabin, she's asleep.

Her head has tipped against the window, one hand tucked beneath her cheek.

Jesus.

Moonlight pours through the windshield, washing her skin in silver and turning her fiery hair into a river of copper and gold.

She looks...

Fuck.

She looks like some woodland princess who wandered into the wrong damn fairy tale.

Too soft for the ugliness she endured tonight.

Too pure and sweet.

Too damn good for all of that.

And maybe too damn good for me.

I curse myself for staring when she's off guard.

But I can't help it.

She's the most beautiful woman I've ever laid eyes on.

And she's exhausted.

No wonder.

She worked a twelve-hour shift.