Page 296 of End Game

Him.

Everything.

“I like knowing Thursday is D&D. I like knowing who's going to be in the kitchen in the morning. I like coming home after the bar and finding you awake because your sleep schedule is almost as fucked as mine.”

“You say the sweetest things.”

“I'm serious.”

“I know.”

“I finally have all of this, Micah.” My voice cracks around the edge.

Fuck.

I look away.

“I have you. And Cami. Griffin and Ronan. The house. Grave Intentions. The bar. People know me there. I know who tips shitty and who orders the same drink every Thursday and which servers are going to need help closing before they even ask.”

I rub both hands over my face.

“And now the thing I've always treated like the fun part of my life is suddenly asking me to take four weeks away from everything else.”

Micah's hand settles against my knee. “It’s four weeks.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I do.”

“No, I don't think you do.”

His hand stills.

I hate the words immediately.

But they're already out.

Micah doesn't get defensive.

He waits.

I swallow. “I'm not worried you're going to ask me to stay.”

Something changes in his face.

“I know you won't.”

“Okay.”

“That's not what I'm scared of.”

“What are you scared of?”

I stare at our knees.

At his hand.

At the chipped black polish on my thumbnail.