Chapter 12

TWELVE

I must be losing it.

It's been two months since I've moved into Micah's house, and I haven't stopped thinking about him. Things have changed between us.

Ever since the night Archer ditched me, Micah has stayed in the house. He won't speak much during the day, keeping busy with the parts of the house I had yet to touch, such as the more physical jobs I had absolutely no skill set in even trying to attempt.

We've grown a little closer, though, despite our distance. Most nights, I cook dinner for him after he finishes with his work. We sit together in the living room, kicking off a marathon of watching a bunch of old movies from the eighties. We sit on opposite sides of the sofa. It's funny seeing him out of his element.

Some nights, I fall asleep during the movie, then wake up in my own bed. Only because the couch has become Micah's bed.

Until he moves into the bedroom next to mine.

I lay in my bed with my eyes closed for as long as I can. The sun refuses to let up, but I'm thankful it's here. It's been sunny all week, a clear indication the cold, blustery days of winter are behind us for the next four months.

I stretch my arms above my head, sore from yesterday's work. My phone rings from my nightstand, forcing me to roll over and open my eyes and see Ruby's name lighting up the screen.

"Hey, Ruby."

"Oh, Adeline." She sighs, relieved. "I've been so worried about you. I haven't heard much from you since you left."

"I'm sorry." My heart warms knowing she's been thinking of me. I do feel guilty for not messaging her as much as I should have after leaving Los Angeles, but the past is easier to let go when you're able to shut the door on it completely. I learned my lesson when I left Boston three years ago. Unfortunately, me closing the door on the past has included those I loved. First, my mom. Now, Ruby.

I'm working on finding the strength to not take my rough past out on those I love.

"I didn't mean to make you worried."

"Oh, honey." Her voice wobbles. "I'm just glad to hear you're okay. Are you safe?"

"I am." I nod, wondering how much information I should divulge to Ruby. Other than Ember, I don't have many friends I can confide in. Although Ruby is more like a mother to me, loving me in ways my own mother never could. "I'm staying with a family friend. Well, he's actually Archer's best friend."

I bite my lip. My anger with Archer is still strong, festering into a tightly woven knot in the center of my chest. I haven't been able to bring myself to talk to him since the night he ditched me, but he also hasn't tried to contact me, either. I guess we're both at a stalemate.

"You mean the one who went to prison years ago?"

Shit. I forgot Ruby heard about Micah's past with drugs.

"Yes," I wince, rolling onto my back. I lift my arm over my head, resting it on my pillow as I stare at the ceiling. "But he's clean now, and he's changed." I glide my finger over my lips, thinking back to yesterday when he pinned me against the ladder. "It's been great living with him, actually."

"Just be careful, Adeline," she warns, her tone cooling.

"I am being careful."

"I wanted to give you an update on what's going on here." She changes the subject, and my stomach sours. Ruby has just kicked open the door I've been holding shut on the past.

"Trending Runway reached out and wanted to see if you'd like to book a shoot this fall for their upcoming spring catalog. I told them I'd speak to you and get back to them with an answer. I didn't know when you were planning on returning, so when would you like to schedule it?"

Sickness overtakes me again. I try to picture a life where I go back to Los Angeles, pretending as if the past several years haven't happened. It's been months since I left, and being here in Boston has made it easy to forget. My modeling career, my disastrous relationship with Maddox, and bursting out of the trailer that day all feels like a lifetime ago. A life I don't recognize.

Trending Runway magazine would once have been a dream. Nearly thirty years ago, my mother had an entire spread in one of their summer issues. At one point, it was a dream of mine, but dreams constantly change.

"I don't know when I'm coming back, Ruby." My confession filters into the still air, and I try to picture her reaction. Her silence is enough of an answer to know I've taken her by surprise. She was expecting me to return.

"Oh," she finally says quietly.

Tears well behind my eyes and line my lashes. I blink them back, but I'm unsuccessful. Slipping from the corner of my eye, one drips down my temple. I sniff and wipe it away.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, blowing out a breath as I turn my head on my pillow and face the long, body-length mirror propped up in the corner of my room. The sheet I tossed over it the first night I stayed here hides my reflection.

"I understand, Adeline," she reassures, with an underlying tone of sadness. She wants to beg me to come home—Ruby has always been supportive in every job I've taken—but she's also very opinionated. This is one opinion she knows she can't have. This is something I must do on my own.

"There's something else."

"What?" I sit up and clutch the blanket to my chest.

"Maddox has disappeared."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, after you left, he rarely showed up to the studio. After about a week of him not coming in, he finally showed up one morning completely drunk. He started throwing things around the studios: cameras, lights, props. You name it, he destroyed it."

I cover my mouth, gasping. I was worried Maddox might take me leaving out on others.

"He didn't hurt anyone, did he?"

"Thankfully, no." She swallows. "But after that, the management company he worked for fired him. There have been rumors going around that he completely emptied out his apartment. No one knows where he went."

"Oh, my God." I don't know where Maddox could have gone. From what I know, he doesn't have any family around, and the few distant members he does have don't speak to him.

"I wasn't certain I should tell you, but I wanted you to know."

"Thank you." I inhale a shaky breath, wanting now more than ever to end our call. "I love you, Ruby. I'll try and keep in touch more often."

"Message me when you can. I'm still here for you. Always."

"I know you are." The tears dry, the sadness leaving me as quickly as it came. "I'll keep in touch."

"Goodbye, Adeline," Ruby breathes out before hanging up.

I drop my phone onto the bed and stare at the ceiling for a few minutes to gather myself. Ruby's conversation leaves a weight on my chest. A weight I've been keeping just above the surface of my flesh and bone. Keeping the distance between my life in LA and the one I have here has been growing easier by the day. Every day, the abuse and trepidation of my relationship with Maddox has been fading in the rearview. Her telling me about his sudden disappearance concerns me only slightly. Ruby wouldn't tell him where I am, and I doubt Maddox would take the time to figure it out.

Besides, I've never felt safer than I do here, living with Micah.

After I've taken a few minutes to gather myself, I wipe my conversation with Ruby from my mind and head downstairs to grab a bite to eat.

In my Nirvana T-shirt and shorts, I tiptoe down the stairs and grab a granola bar from the pantry. Reaching into the refrigerator, I swipe a can of soda and pop the top.

Micah saunters into the kitchen wearing a simple white T-shirt and faded, worn jeans—an outfit I've become accustomed to seeing him in.

It feels like it's been years since the last time I saw him wear a suit.

"Morning, Addy," he says before grabbing a mug from the cupboard and pouring himself a cup of coffee.

He's kept up his use of my nickname, and I haven't had the energy to correct him. Or maybe I haven't wanted to. Something about the way he says it is different than the way he used to say it when I was a kid.

"Morning," I mutter around a mouthful of granola.

His heated stare falls to my legs.

I sit behind the counter and cross them, thankful I was mindful enough to make sure I was wearing more than just my T-shirt downstairs. The first time I came down here with just my sleep shirt on, I was completely bare underneath it.

We haven't spoken since yesterday, when he yelled at me in front of the entire crew. I couldn't confirm whether he was telling the truth about the man jerking off behind me, but it didn't matter. He scolded me like a child, and I was thrust back to that day at the pool when I was eleven years old.

I want to be angry with him now, and I open my mouth to call him out on his behavior but stop when he lifts his leg and places his foot on the stool beside me.

He bends over, lacing up his boot. "I'm going to get started on the garden today." Once he's finished tying the first, he does the same with the second. He flicks his gaze up to mine.

Fine. We're pretending yesterday never happened. Got it.

"Okay," I choke out. Granola hits the back of my throat, and I cough.

"Thought you might want to help." He shrugs one shoulder. His blue-gray eyes deepen, still heavy with secrets, but I'm beginning to see the cracks.

"I'm meeting Ember for lunch," I tell him. "I was just about to go shower."

He drops his foot and stands with his hands firmly planted on his hips. "Do you need a ride?"

"No. She's picking me up."

"Okay." He sighs. "Well, have fun."

Short pleasantries, but the silence speaks loudly.

"Thanks."

My eyes fall to his mouth. He sticks his tongue out and sweeps it across his bottom lip.

Electrifying heat pools between my legs. It hums across my skin.

"I should get going or else Ember will kill me." I need to get out of this kitchen and away from Micah. My thoughts are going to places they shouldn't be going.

"Oh, yeah." He wraps his hand around the back of his neck, then turns around and places his hand on the handle to the sliding back door.

"Wait!" I blurt out, walking over to the refrigerator. I grab one of the bottles of water I'd placed in there earlier this week and hand it to Micah. "For when you're thirsty. There's supposed to be record heat today. You should stay hydrated."

His eyes fall to the bottle before he reaches out to take it from me. Our fingers brush against one another.

He doesn't respond. His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows and delivers me a small smile of appreciation.

I let him take it and leave the kitchen before I explode. I picture him following me and lifting me up to wrap my legs around his waist. I imagine him whispering in my ear, telling me I'm a ‘ good girl' for finally listening to him.

I imagine the taste of his lips on mine, practically stealing my breath away. I reach the top of the stairs and stop. My legs are wobbly, and I feel like I'm losing the strength to stand. Pressing my back to the wall, I close my eyes and breathe, listening to the sound of the back door sliding open before it shuts again.

Once I've regained my bearings, I head straight for the shower. Since all the other bathrooms in the house are undergoing some sort of renovation, Micah and I are forced to share the one connected to my bedroom. His towel hangs off the hook bolted into the wall. His razor sits beside his toothbrush and half-used tube of toothpaste on the large, marble vanity.

I strip down and step into the shower almost immediately. Once the water is scorching hot, I allow the heat to beat against my skin, and I bury my face in my hands to force the sinful thoughts of my brother's best friend away.

Once I'm all wet, I wash my hair, run my razor quickly over my legs, and move onto washing my body. I grab my bright pink pouf and reach for my body wash but stop when I see Micah's next to it. The tall blue bottle sits in the corner of the shelf. I pop the top and bring it to my nose, breathing in the scent of cedarwood.

This is exactly how Micah smells every time I see him, when he's finished working outside before he joins me for dinner. This is Micah's signature scent.

I squeeze a dollop onto my pouf and pop the cap back closed before returning the bottle back to its home next to mine.

Bubbles cover my pouf within seconds, and I start to wash myself. Washing myself with Micah's body wash doesn't exactly stop the thoughts running through my mind. If anything, it solidifies the way I'm feeling. The truth is, I'm falling for Micah. I shouldn't be, but I am.

As each day passes, I envision a life with him here in his house. One where we don't tiptoe around one another or sit in our highly covered secrets.

I'm swiping the pouf over my peaked nipples, the image of Micah's anger yesterday playing on my mind. I squeeze my eyes shut, the fire in his blue-gray eyes sparking with jealousy.

Jealous because he caught another man looking at me.

Right?

I hear his voice telling me to get on his bike.

The space between my legs tingles, and I'm about to slip my hand where my body is begging to be touched when I hear the back door slide open.

I gasp, dropping my pouf as if it's suddenly burst into flames.

The door shuts then again, and I breathe out, thankful I didn't hear Micah's footsteps coming up the stairs.

With the moment gone, and a chill replacing the heat, I pick up my pouf and rinse off the rest of Micah's body wash. I rinse the rest of the suds off my own body and shut the water off.

Stepping out, I wrap a towel around myself, tucking in the front, just above my chest. I pad my way into my bedroom before shutting and locking the door. Water drips from my hair onto the floor as I make my way across my bedroom, and Micah's grunting from outside the window pulls me to the opposite side.

Peeking around the old curtain, I place my hand over my beating chest at the sight of him down below. He's bent over the garden bed, ripping out dead flowers and broken branches. Long vines and stems with thorns cover the dry soil. He tosses them behind him, tearing and pulling with all his strength.

His hands are covered in dirt as he reaches forward and grabs onto one of the longer vines. He tears it out and tosses it into the pile he's building on the other side of the wood.

Broad shoulders swell, and the muscles across the planes of his back flex. His tan skin is covered in a thin sheen of sweat. He's removed the white T-shirt he was wearing this morning.

The sun glints and shimmers off his skin, highlighting the muscles my hands wish to touch. I close my eyes, the heat returning between my legs.

I sigh and open my eyes. Micah paused long enough to take a drink from the bottle of water I gave him earlier. With one foot resting on the edge of the wooden frame, he presses one hand on his knee and lifts the bottle to his mouth, tilting his head back as he takes a long swig.

With my hand still pressed to my chest, I drag my fingers down the center of my towel. Tingles spread down my legs and my hardened nipples. They're hidden under the towel, but the soft fabric hugs my skin, radiating the warmth I'm getting from watching Micah.

I part my towel and slip my fingers between the gap, finding my center. I part my folds, the pads of my fingers landing over my swollen clit.

Micah sets the water bottle down on the ground beside him, and he bends over again, resuming his work. Two dimples press into the small of his back. My fingers circle my clit, watching his fingers wrap around a large, dead branch.

Good girl.

Tell me you're going to be a good girl.

I circle my clit faster, parting my legs to get more access. I plunge two fingers inside myself, gasping when I press my thumb to my clit. I pump my fingers faster and harder.

Micah stomps his way over to the pile of furniture we set out in the middle of the yard yesterday and fishes out a shovel. He doesn't look up, not noticing me standing in front of my window. Heat blooms in my cheeks.

What do you want, Addy?

Do you want to be mine?

Yes. God, yes.

I roll onto the balls of my feet, standing taller. My mouth falls open as I breathe in a shuddering breath. Tucking in my bottom lip, I bite down on my pillowy flesh, wishing it were Micah's.

My body hums and vibrates from my own touch.

I watch him as he stabs the shovel into the dirt, lifting out the root to one of the bushes. After digging up half, he walks around the box to dig out the other half. He stabs the pointed end of the shovel into the ground again, pushing down to leverage it out.

Tiny bursts of electricity spread across my damp skin as I pull my fingers out to circle my clit again. I draw them along the length of my slit and add more pressure. My fingers are soaking wet. They move over me with ease.

Tell me you're mine, Addy.

Micah drops the shovel on a loud grunt. It vibrates from his broad, solid chest.

Tell me you're my good girl.

My orgasm slams into my body, and I shudder and vibrate, moaning as I reach the top of it, squeezing my eyes shut. The feeling is so intense, I fall forward, catching myself on the window. My hand slaps against the glass.

My eyes snap open.

Micah is staring directly at me.

Down below, in the garden, he's watching me. The shovel lays at his feet. His hands are balled into fists at his sides, his body on full display.

His torn, dirt-covered jeans rest just above the dents of his perfectly sculpted hip bones. It's a body that should be considered illegal for a man in his mid-thirties.

Solid as a statue, he stares up at me with a hardened expression. His jaw ticks as his dark brown eyebrows set in a firm line above his narrowed eyes. His arms are at his sides, but his hands are noticeably clenched into tight fists.

I gasp, the breath catching in my throat. I bring both my arms to my chest and spin around, hiding behind the safety of the curtain. I lay back against the wall and tip my head back, squeezing my eyes shut.

I want to die of embarrassment.

I wonder how much Micah heard... or saw .

I cover my eyes with my hand and sink to the floor. My wet hair clings to my shoulders, but my body is still humming from my orgasm. I haven't been with anyone in such a long time. I tell myself I only touched myself because I'm desperate for touch. I'm desperate to feel . Anything. Something. Something to remind me I haven't lost all sense of awareness. Something to remind me that my heart isn't completely shut off.

Maddox made it easy to fall for him, but I was numb. With the way I'm feeling now, after simply touching myself to the thought of Micah, I hadn't realized how numb I'd become. My heart jolted to life watching him in the garden just then, and although we argued yesterday, and I was furious with him for what he said, I was grateful. Grateful because my heart felt more than just numb.

This was proof. Proof I'm not completely unfeeling.

But I'm lying to myself if I think this was innocent. There's meaning to what I've done. The relationship between Micah and me has shifted. He made that clear yesterday when he didn't answer my dare for him to stop.

The problem is, I know I should be embarrassed. I just finger-fucked myself while watching my brother's best friend work in the garden.

But I'm not embarrassed. The truth is, I want it to happen again.

Only next time, I want what I know I can't have.

I want it with him.