Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 95906 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 480(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95906 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 480(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
When Micah didn't respond to me, I forced myself to continue. “I know that Rory is not Brady's daughter. She's Clara's but the guy listed on the birth certificate as the father is someone else.”
“She didn't know the guy other than his name. She’s not even sure the guy she listed is really the father,” Micah murmured. The mere fact that he was participating in the conversation had me drawing in a deep breath.
He was listening.
It was something.
“Since you don't have any legal claim to Rory and your ability to get custody of Christopher is unlikely, both kids will go into foster care until things are sorted out. So even if Ricky and Clara don't want them back, you won't get them. I know that's really hard to hear—”
“I know,” Micah murmured and then he was nodding against my forehead, and I remembered that I was still leaning against him. I separated our bodies enough that I was no longer pressing against him, but I didn't release my hold on him entirely. My fingers were curled around his upper arms and since he was wearing my T-shirt, I could feel his skin. It was as smooth and soft as I thought it would be, but it also felt warm.
Too warm.
I found myself reaching one hand up to rest against his forehead to try and determine if he might be running a fever, but something about the move suddenly set Micah off.
“I'm not losing them,” he growled as he jerked his head from my touch. He tried to pull free of my hold, but I wouldn’t let him go. “I'm not losing them!” he repeated, and then he tried to completely yank free of me. I pressed him back against the door and held him there with my body in the hopes that he wouldn't inadvertently hurt himself as he flailed against me.
“You're not taking them from me! No one's taking them from me! You said we could go! Or was that just another one of your lies, Con?”
The use of my given name was a punch to the gut. No, more like a knife to it.
“No one is taking them from you! I won't let that happen!” I bit back. “Look at me!” I demanded and then before Micah could even follow the order, I was tipping his head back so that his glittering green eyes were forced to meet mine.
“What!? I’m looking!” he snapped. “Am I supposed to see my savior or something? Huh? Where are the white robes and halo, Con? Oh wait, do they still give those out to guys who beat people into comas?”
It would have been easy to give in to the verbal attack like I had back at the hospital. I’d turned tail and run then but I’d learned my lesson when I’d returned to that room and found a very different Micah.
The real Micah.
The one who’d begged me not to let anyone hurt the kids he loved more than anything else on the planet.
Micah was clearly waiting for me to react, either with my fists or with a white flag, but I remained both still and silent. I didn’t speak until Micah himself had calmed down enough that his breath was coming in mostly normal intervals.
“Trust me, sweetheart, I’m the last guy you want to be talking to about halos and harps and all that shit. If you want divine intervention, then good luck because as far as I’m concerned, the big guy upstairs can rot in the very hell he threw me and my brothers into eight years ago.”
Something softened in Micah’s eyes for a moment, but I ignored it and continued with, “You want the truth? Yeah, I feel guilty about Brady. Always have, always will. And that shit about me missing my guilt payment that month…” I shook my head and forced a slight smile to my lips. “Let’s just say you missed your calling, sweetheart, because you know how to kick a man when he’s down. So fine, let’s see this for what it is, okay? As my favorite Black Widow says, ‘I’ve got red in my ledger.’”
My admission shocked Micah into silence and I swore I saw a flash of pain in the younger man’s eyes, but I couldn’t respond to that. I couldn’t tell him everything that had just come out of my mouth was bullshit. If I did, there was no way he’d accept my help. For whatever reason, Micah didn’t want anything perceived as a handout and he especially didn’t want it from me. But if I could play into the role he’d placed me in, that of the villain who’d ruined his life, and still give him what he needed, then so be it. None of this was about me. It was about keeping Micah and his kids safe.