I huff out a breath and rub the back of my neck. “Yeah,” I mutter. “You could say that.”
He gestures vaguely with his mug. “With Emma, it was good though, right?”
I nod, moving toward the counter. The simple act of pouring coffee feels oddly important, even if it’s just a trivial thing. It is more than what I've been able to do for myself in a while. I lean back against the counter for a second, just holding the mug between my palms, letting the heat sink into my skin.
Micah watches me the whole time. But it’s not in a suffocating way, by any means. I fucking hate how different and out of place I feel with everyone. I’m uncomfortable being in a house with people I barely know, and even more so, that I feel like a stranger to the people I love.
I push off the counter and walk over, dropping into the chair across from him. The wood creaks under my weight. Silence stretches between us while I take a sip, but it’s not weird. It never really has been with him. If I can be myself with anyone, it’s him.
“I really wasn’t sure we were ever going to find you,” he says finally.
No buildup. No warning. Just straight to it, apparently.
My grip tightens around the mug. “I know,” I say. Because I do. Because there were moments where I wasn’t even sure Iwantedto come back.
He exhales slowly, leaning back in his chair, eyes dropping to the table. “There was a point,” he continues, quieter now, “where I stopped thinking we were getting you back and started thinking we were just…trying to survive whatever came after. How my new life would be marrying Heather and adopting Emma as my new best friend.”
My lips twitch. “Marrying Heather? It’s that serious?”
He nods. “Yeah, man. I love her.”
My gaze falls to my hands. “You deserve that.”
“You know you can talk to me about anything,” he murmurs suddenly. “You don’thaveto, but if you need help processing anything…I’m here to listen.”
My throat tightens, and I look down at the coffee in my hands. “I almost didn’t make it,” I admit. “Adriana saved me from killing myself.”
Micah’s throat bobs, likely taken by surprise by my immediate response.
“I still see the look in people’s eyes when they looked up at me…scared. I still feel…” I trail off, wincing at the memory of Henrik. “Hands. All over me. Ones that I don’t want.”
“Would you like to talk more about that?” He asks, his voice soft and kind.
But I shake my head, internally fucking recoiling. I’m not ready to talk about what Henrik did to me. I was so fucked up, but I do remember it. Thankfully, it didn’t go as far as it could have. But still…it makes me want to die when I think about it.
I drag a hand down my face, exhaling through my nose. “I keep thinking about the life I could have had,” I say. “Eight years have now come and gone, and I…” I shake my head. “I’ve wasted so much time doing things I never wanted to do.”
“When we get out of this,” he whispers. “You’ll get to finally have that beautiful life, do you hear me?”
My jaw clenches. “I dragged you to fucking Russia. You’re indangerbecause of me, Micah.”
“You didn’tdragme anywhere,” he says immediately.
I look up at him.
“I was right there with you,” he adds. “Every bad decision. Every high. Every time we thought we were on top of the world, and then whenever we fell from grace. We partied together, slept beside each other, and talked until the moon and sun shook fucking hands, man.”
A faint, humorless breath leaves me. “Yeah. I love you.”
“I love you, too,” he replies, his voice quiet. “I hate what they’ve done to you. But we’ll fucking kill them all.”
My chest loosens just enough for a smirk to pull at my lips. I think of the look of terror on Alexei’s goddamn face when he realizes that the monster he created is about to rip him apart. “Yeah, we fucking will,” I say.
Micah leans back in his chair, one ankle hooked over his knee, watching the steam curl from his mug. Neither of us rushes to fill the silence.
Then there’s movement on the couch to our left, and Adriana appears a second later. Her auburn hair is a mess, falling over one side of her face. She’s wearing one of the oversized sweaters Heather found for her, her face still tired from sleep.
Her green eyes dart between Micah and me the moment she sees us sitting there together. Her expression flickers with caution before she looks away again and heads toward the kitchen without a word. The sound of the coffee pot filling the silence feels strangely loud.