Page 81 of Safe Place

“What happened when you turned eighteen?” I know the answer, but I want to hear it from her.

She shrugs, then says, “I emancipated myself when I was seventeen. I was already working two jobs, supporting myself. My mom didn’t care. And not too long after that, Mark got his second DUI. He hit an old man—put him in the hospital. He was sentenced to six years.”

“Shit,” I mutter, realizing there’s still so much I didn’t know.

“That was two years ago…so why do I get the sense you’re still afraid of him? He’s supposed to have four years left.”

Again, Nico already told me the answer.

She hesitates, then murmurs, “He’s getting out early for good behavior. Actually, he might already be out.”

I bite down hard on the inside of my cheek. “He’s not coming near you. I’ll make sure of that. I swear, Soph. I’ll protect you.” I make a vow to myself as I speak. “Is that why you’re having nightmares?”

She nods again, her eyes clouded with a pain I wish I could erase. “Yes and no. The nightmares come and go, but they always get worse around my birthday. I think it’s because I used to be scared of getting older. Like the clock was ticking down to something I couldn’t stop.”

Her birthday? “Baby, when’s your birthday?”

“This Friday,” she says, barely above a whisper. There’s a heaviness to her voice, like the word itself hurts.

Fuck. I can’t believe I didn’t even know my girlfriend’s birthday.

“Then Friday,” I say, “I’m giving you a new memory. Something good. I’ll make it so you don’t even think of him.”

Her hand tightens around mine. “Please don’t make a big deal out of it,” she says quickly, almost panicked. “It’s not a day I look forward to.”

My chest tightens. “Hey,” I say, quieter now.

She looks at me.

“You don’t have to be strong all the time.” I hold her gaze. “You have me.”

Her throat works as she swallows. “Can we just do something quiet? Just between us? I don’t need anything else.”

I nod, instantly. “Of course.” I promise softly. “Even better.”

And I mean it. I’ll give her new memories. Whatever it takes.

TWENTY-THREE

Micah’s a golden boy, not a mafia prince

MICAH

“Thanks, Nico. I really appreciate it,” I say as we’re about to hang up. “My dad’s bound to ask what I’ve been working on. If it comes up, do you think you could steer him toward dropping the Delaneys?”

“I don’t know, Micah. That’s not really my place,” Nico says. “But honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if he gets there on his own. You and your dad are more alike than you think.”

I hadn’t thought of that. My dad would never risk tarnishing the Vale name.

“Thanks, Nico. But you’re confusing me for Luke,” I say with a dry laugh. “I’ll be in touch.” Then I hang up.

And it’s true. My dad and Luke have always been cut from the same cloth. It’s why he’s still holding onto the hope that Luke might come back and run the company one day.

At seven in the morning, I’m driving to the address Nico gave me. I should’ve been reviewing the pile of paperwork waiting on my desk. But this takes priority. The second I saw Sophie’s face that night—scared, shaken, curling in on herself like she was bracing for impact—I knew I wouldn’t rest until I handled this myself.

I pull up in front of an apartment complex that’s trying too hard to be high-end. It’s cheap and tacky, with faux marble, gold-painted plastic, and furniture that tries to pass off as designer. All show, no substance. Like Carter Delaney himself.

Good effort though. Maybe I’ll offer to help them with a proper design refresh—after they evict the piece of shit who lives in 5B.