Page 125 of Micah

Bitterly.

“I couldn't sleep wondering if you'd make it home. I couldn't stop thinking about you closing that place by yourself every night.”

“Really?”

“I just kept imagining what would happen if someone was following you. If someone was waiting. So I did the one thing I knew how to do. I watched.”

“You watched?”

I nod.

“I made sure you got home. I made sure nobody was bothering you. I just wanted to be sure you were safe.”

My voice cracks on the last word.

Barely.

“Micah, that’s,” she whispers, and her gaze flicks down.

I don’t like that.

I want her eyes on me. But I’m not so big an asshole that I don’t know I just dropped a bomb on her.

She needs a second to catch up, and I can give her that.

“This is a lot, Micah,” she finally says.

“It is. But I did it because you matter to me, Sloane.”

I meet her eyes.

“You matter. So damn much.”

I wait.

For the slap.

The anger.

The fear.

The look that says you're just as crazy as the men who came into my bar.

Instead, she surprises me.

She actually laughs.

Softly.

Not because it's funny.

Because she's overwhelmed.

She reaches up and cups my cheek.

“You know something?”

She shakes her head.