Page 119 of Safe Place

But I want to touch. So fucking badly.

She lowers her sunglasses slowly, just enough to peer at me from over the top with those beautiful big brown eyes and that little smile I’d burn cities to protect.

“You’ve been staring at me for an hour, Micah,” she says, amused. “I can’t keep pretending I don’t notice. It’s getting creepy.”

I grin, stretching out like I’ve got some kind of self-control. “You look sexy as fuck in white.”

She snorts. “You said that about the black one. And the blue. And the pink. And the yellow.”

“Not my fault you can pull off every damn color on the color wheel,” I murmur, adjusting how I’m sitting, with a quiet groan. “I’m getting hard again.”

She laughs. That warm, completely unbothered laugh that still knocks the wind out of me. God, I love her like this, sun-kissed and happy.

“Can we wait until after lunch this time?” she teases. “I’m finally getting to the good part in my book.”

I smirk and lean back on my elbows, pretending to behave while I keep watching her. “I like this look on you.”

She peeks at me again. “Yes, I know. You think I look good in everything.”

“Yeah, that too,” I say. “But I meant this—the way you’re carrying yourself now. You’re confident, relaxed—like you’re not bracing for anything anymore. You look so peaceful.”

Her expression softens. She closes the book, bookmark slipping between the pages. “I feel at peace.” She turns so she’s facing me fully. “I didn’t think it could ever be like this. And it’s because of you, Micah. I think I owe you my life.”

I sit up, my chest tightening. “You don’t owe me anything.”

She shakes her head. “You gave me something I never had before—safety, belonging, peace, and a future I actually want. You have no idea what that means to someone like me.”

I swallow hard. “You gave me just as much. More, maybe. You gave me something real worth living for. Someone to come home to. You’re the reason I even care about what tomorrow looks like.”

There’s a quiet moment. She doesn’t look away.

Then she reaches into her beach bag and pulls out that little notebook—the one I’ve seen her write in a hundred times but never dared to open.

She holds it out to me.

“I’ve never been good at saying how I feel,” she says. “I didn’t grow up around people who made it easy to talk. But I wrote it all down, and I want you to read it. I want you to know.”

I stare at it. “Your non-judgy notebook?”

She nods. “Yeah. Start on page seven. It’s the day we were put in the same group. The day we met.”

My hands are a little shaky when I take it. The cover is soft and worn, pages curling slightly at the corners. It smells like her—warm and familiar and deeply Sophie.

I flip to page seven and I read. And then I keep reading. Page after page, day after day, moment after moment.

…He stepped in when I froze at the cafe, when I didn’t know how to make my voice work. Micah didn’t hesitate. He gave me a ride home like it was second nature. Like helping me was the obvious thing to do. And I think he even waited outside during my interview…just to drive me back…

…He didn’t owe me anything. He doesn’t even know me.

…Ever since that day…I find myself looking for him. My eyes scan every room, every sidewalk, hoping he’ll be there.

…Is it really possible…to be loved like this?

…I’m scared. Because when this ends—and in my world, things always end—I’ll have to pick myself back up. But I can do it. I always do.

…There’s this part of me—this aching, hopeful part that wants to trust him. That wants to lean. Just a little.

…Micah has been there in every moment, without asking for recognition. Without making me feel small for needing help. He just shows up. Over and over. And maybe that’s love. Maybe that’s what I’ve never known before.