Page 79 of Safe Place

“Thank you.” Her voice is small. “For being—I don't know, patient. I know that probably sounds⁠⁠—“

“It doesn't sound like anything,” I say. “It sounds exactly right.”

She goes quiet again. I can feel the moment she relaxes completely. It’s a subtle thing—a slow release of tension through her whole body, like she's been carrying something heavy for a very long time and has finally, just for now, put it down.

She relaxes against me, her face pressing into my chest, and I hold her tighter.

I stare at the ceiling and think: I'm never letting this girl go.

Not because she needs someone. She's spent her whole life proving she doesn't.

But because she chose me anyway.

TWENTY-TWO

I think this is the moment I finally accept

that I love this guy

SOPHIE

My stepfather is drunk again, banging on my locked door. I’ve pushed my dresser against it, just in case. My room’s on the second floor, but I have an escape planned. My bag is always packed, ready for me to jump if I need to.

“Happy birthday, Sophie!” he yells, slurring. “The legal age of consent in Illinois is seventeen! We don’t have to wait another year!”

I press my hands over my ears, ignoring him, but his voice cuts through anyway.

“Just say the word and we can be together, baby girl. Your mother’s not home.”

I grip my comforter so tight my nails dig into my palms, sharp enough to almost cut.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

I jolt upright, drenched in sweat, my breathing coming in quick, panicked bursts.

No. No, no, no.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Micah’s voice is rough with sleep, and he sits up quickly, startled.

Before I can answer, tears are already streaming down my face. My chest feels tight, my breaths shallow, and I’m on the verge of hyperventilating again.

It was just a dream. Calm down. It’s not happening again.

Micah wraps his arms around me, pulling me against his chest. He knows exactly what’s happening. His embrace is firm, grounding, and slowly—slower than I want but faster than last time—I start to calm down. Because he’s here. Because he’s holding me, whispering soft reassurances and being my safe place.

God, I hate that this had to happen tonight. The first night we sleep on the same bed together, and of course I have this dream.

But it happens a lot, especially around this time of year.

Micah’s hand rubs slow, comforting circles on my back. “How often does this happen?” he asks quietly, his voice filled with worry.

I swallow, trying to push the tears back, and shake my head. “Uhm not often. Sorry. I must have just had a bad dream.”

I can feel his gaze on me, but I keep my eyes down. I don’t know if I’m ready to tell him. I don’t want him to see that part of me—the part that’s still broken, still haunted.

“How did you do that?” I ask softly, still catching my breath. “Calm me down so fast?”

Micah gives me a small, almost shy smile. “I asked the doctor after he checked up on you last time. I wanted to know what to do if it ever happened again.” He brushes a strand of hair from my face, his thumb lingering on my cheek. “I’ve never hated myself more than I did that day, watching you fall apart and not knowing what to do.”