Page 84 of Save Me

Something brushes my fingers. I snap my eyes open to see Maddox there, fingers barely brushing mine. He looks at our hands like he doesn’t know what’s happening, and then I see the shimmer of tears in his eyes. Which breaks my heart.

I slip my hand into his.

There’s a lot I want to say, like we-were-meant-to-be-we’re-soulmates-I’d-never-hurt-you-on-purpose and how-do-you-feel-about-courthouse-weddings because hello mind to mouth path is so very short, but I don’t. I don’t want to push him when he’s not ready. I meant what I said when I said I’d wait. We’re on Maddox time, not my time.

And in the silence, I find anxiety. What if I don’t say all these things, and he doesn’t know how serious I am? What if he thinks I’m just using him for a fling? What if he doesn’t feel loved?

I force myself to take a deep breath in and out. Where’s my freaking ice water when I need it? But the more I force myself to breathe, the more a tiny, teeny tiny sense of okayness slips in. It’s good I’m not rushing to say anything. That always scares Maddox. And why rush? The hottest man in the world is here, in my bed, choosing to hang out with me.

Well, and maybe he’s nap trapped, but that part doesn’t matter. Right now, Maddox is safe.

He’s safe, and nothing can take him from me.

Nothing.

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

I got it. I got my confession.

I stare at the wall across from the bed, waiting for the exultant feeling to hit me. The big win that’s supposed to come from playing the moves ahead of someone else.

Instead, all I feel is Micah’s hand in mine, his warm, strong fingers between mine.

I figured out Micah was snooping. The tracker was new.

You were right. You were right! The thoughts buzz in my head, but that’s all they do: buzz. There’s no fizzing over, because something is still off. I got my confession, but where is the yelling? The fighting? Why is he just sitting here, holding my hand? Telling me he stopped because I…asked him to?

The concept is almost laughable. No one just stops.

And yet, Micah still just sits here.

I want him to do something. Get mad for suspecting him.

Micah gently squeezes my hand, just slightly enough that I’m not sure he did it on purpose. I glance over at him, and he doesn’t look at me, but there’s a shy smile on his face. Almost like he’s genuinely happy.

Fuck, this man is infuriating. And…hot. His blush lips stand out against his fair skin. Lips that I’ve kissed. Lips that were wrapped around my dick.

Fuck.

I drop my eyes from his face, down to the hand that’s gripping mine. The way his veins push up softly against his hand. A hand that’s never hit me. Never thrown something at me.

Suddenly, staring at him, I wonder something else. What if Micah is playing a game, but it’s just a different game than I’ve been playing? What if he’s not perfectly nice, but he’s still nice, just playing a different game? Like one where he isn’t trying to hurt me?

My first instinct is to snort. How boring. Why would he do that?

And yet…

I stare at where our hands are clasped. We’re holding hands like in the movies. Just for us. He’s not trying to show off to anyone else. Not trying to lay claim on me. Not squeezing too hard. Just…holding hands.

Fuck. What if the game he’s playing has been…trying to go out with me? Like, to get to know me. Like in the movies. Like in a happy way.

For a traitorous second, my chest feels…warm. It’s like sitting in a bath with the perfect temperature. Like comfort.

Fuck.

My eyes feel warm too. Hot even. Like I’m going to cry.

What is this feeling? It feels nice. Feels comforting. Like coming home. And fuck, I like it.