25. Light In The Dark (Talia)
25
LIGHT IN THE DARK (TALIA)
T alk about déjà vu.
Somehow both beginnings and endings with Micah involve him reviving me with mouth-to-mouth after I pass out from an asthma attack.
I'd have to say this has been the most stressful attack of my life , though.
If it wasn't for him breathing into me, I think I'd have given up and told the EMTs to leave me alone and let my lungs collapse.
I'm tired .
And even more worn out later, sitting in the back of an ambulance with a mask over my face, forcing oxygen into my lungs to compensate until the meds the emergency techs gave me kick in and my lungs no longer feel like deflated footballs someone's been kicking around for hours.
I can barely sit up.
Good thing I don't need to.
Micah sits next to me with his arm around my shoulders, holding me up, keeping me warm and…
And confusing me so much.
He should be with the rest of the Redhaven PD and the Raleigh people.
They've got their hands full with arrests, reading rights, identifying bodies, arresting and treating the injured. I've never seen so much blood before, and if not for Micah, I might be panicking at freaking everything.
I almost died tonight.
But I was right.
Micah came for me.
He came, and he stopped himself before he did something awful he could never take back.
I glance up at him uncertainly. Only to recoil when I realize he's still watching me with those arctic eyes, yet they no longer seem so cold.
Bowing my head, I brush my hair back and touch the mask with a weak smile.
"Bet I look super sexy right now."
"Ravishing." He doesn't miss a beat, pressing a kiss to my hair. My heart leaps with hope. "Just a little longer and I can take you home. Both of you," he says, leaning over the bumper, where Rolf rests cheerfully at our feet. The dog looks almost smug for playing his part in my rescue. Micah looks at me with concern. "Unless you need the hospital. You really should go. You almost flatlined, Talia."
It's a little easier to smile now.
"But I didn't. You brought me back! You saved my life and you didn't even need to kill Xavier to do it."
Micah looks stricken before he glances away.
"I wanted to kill that fuck," he clips. "So badly I can still feel his pulse in my fingertips. I wasn't thinking about the fact that technically, we need him alive for his testimony. I just wanted him dead. Your life was more important, though. Hands down."
Tentatively, I risk resting one hand on his chest.
He looks so dangerous in his tactical gear, but it's only a small part of his allure tonight.
"I told you," I whisper. "That's not who you are."
"Yeah. Guess you know it better than I do." He covers my hand with his. "Talia, I—fuck. I said a lot of shitty things I didn't mean. None of it. It was never about using you or convenience. I never should have let you think that. I never should have used that to hurt you. I wasn't faking. I never was. Just because I faked my identity a little, no. With you, woman, it was as real as it gets."
Holy hell.
I'm so stunned I don't know what to say.
After the way he sledgehammered my heart, those words can't just pick it up and piece it back together like there are no cracks at all.
But sometimes a broken thing shines brighter when every fragment catches the light, doesn't it? Just like a diamond.
When I don't respond, Micah's brows pinch together.
"Are you okay? You're not having another attack from the shock, are you?"
"What shock?" I ask faintly.
"…me being honest for once?"
I giggle.
"Um, I think that might kill you more than me," I point out dryly, leaning into the curve of his arm. "I think I get why you said the things you did. Why you ran. Why you hurt me. But I never stopped having feelings for you even with that, Micah. I trusted you to come for me today."
"I never would have left you with him. I couldn't."
He takes a shaky breath.
Maybe he's right and I do know him better than he knows himself, because I know his patterns.
I know how he looks away, looks down, then finally looks back at me with his lips tight and nervous when he wants to say something from the heart, pulling it out slowly like a knife lodged in his ribs.
"I never learned how to love. Not really," Micah says. The wind teases his arctic fox hair, making it stand wild and rakish. "The only person in my life I ever truly loved was my brother, and that…" He shakes his head. "He died. No warning and no goodbye. Jet was the only person I knew how to love, and he died on me."
"That doesn't mean everyone you love will always die."
"But it means the part of me that can love died with him," Micah growls. "All I had left was hate after that. Think I even hated myself, because of how Jet protected me. When we were kids, he took the abuse while I hid from our father and I let him, when it should have been me. When all you have is hate so deep you don't know how to stop, you forget how to love anything at all."
I just smile, nudging the big German Shepherd lightly with my toe and getting a warm, wet lick to my calf.
"Nope," I say. "Rolf says you're a liar."
"Rolf talks, huh? Guess he's a bigger hero tonight than I thought." Micah arches a skeptical brow.
"Micah Ainsley," I proclaim, pulling the mask down around my neck. "You love that goofy dog more than you love yourself. You dote on him. You saved him from being retired and bored to death. You know all his little habits, his moods, everything about him—and you know he'd do anything for you, even charging into battle." I laugh. It's getting easier to breathe now. "They say you never trust a person who doesn't like animals. And as much as you love Rolf, I trust you're still able to love things with two legs, too." My fingers curl against his chest. "Maybe you need to start over. Start with you. Forgive yourself for all the things you couldn't control."
"With Xavier in custody, I might be able to work on forgiveness, but I'm not sure loving myself will ever be possible." Micah's lips twist.
I love you, so it must be , I want to scream.
But I'm afraid to. There's a new fear that I'm misreading what he's trying to say, what he's implying. Fear that he's about to break me all over again.
I only duck my head and whisper, "…yes, it is."
"Talia?"
"I'm sorry." I avert my eyes. "I won't say it. I know it's uncomfortable for you, I…"
" Say it ." I'm stunned when he grabs my face in his palms, turning me toward him, leaning in until our foreheads touch. "I need to hear it tonight. I need to know I haven't broken it."
My heart rises in my throat.
It's so intense I almost can't do it.
But ever since I took my life into my own hands, I've never turned away from risks. So I take a new one now.
"I love you, Micah Ainsley," I whisper.
I never expect the way he smiles.
Soft, sweet, a little in awe, piercing my heart and breaking me in a new, beautiful way.
"I was always so worried my darkness would scare you away," he rumbles. "Or break you. Somehow, all it did was bring you closer, and I love you for it, Talia. I love you for you . For everything you are. Your courage, your kindness, your wisdom, your sweetness. I fucking love you. I want to beg for your forgiveness, but even without it, I won't stop. You shine so bright it burns, and I need the pain. I know I don't deserve you, no, but it doesn't change the truth. I need you ."
My breaths are soft and shallow. I don't need them right now.
Not when Micah is better than the air I breathe.
I lean into him, ghosting my lips on his, aching for how it feels like new after he broke us and welded us together again.
I remember that night with my grandfather, when he thought I was my grandmother and yet still found a way to ease my hurting heart.
"Francis Bacon," I whisper into the stillness between us. "He said, In order for the light to shine so brightly, the darkness must be present ." I smile. "If I'm too bright, it's only because you're the darkness—and you make me shine."
"My light," Micah whispers, holding me closer. "My redemption."
There goes my heart.
Basically forever.
The last time his lips touched mine, Micah gave me life.
This time, when his mouth claims mine, he makes me feel alive.
A hot rush pours through me, filling me until I'm dizzy.
His kiss comes slow, tender, his mouth tracing mine with a reverence that makes me feel cherished. That lets me savor every last sensation of skin until I'm tingling and gasping by the time his tongue dips in to taste me.
His kiss draws me up to meet him until we're twined tongues, slick pressure, lingering and sweet.
God, I could live this kiss forever.
This is how he transforms my night in hell.
Ending it in heaven.
The man I love loves me back.
Truly. Darkly. Gloriously.
Yes, he made a mistake.
He was scared, and he ran.
I get that more than anything.
I spent the first half of my life letting fear make me timid, before I learned life needs risks, no matter the outcome.
Micah took so many for me.
He saved my life.
And now he's showing me how he truly feels.
Proving my faith in him wasn't misplaced and that he's every bit the bold, strong, honorable man I thought he was.
No matter what happens after this, we'll find our way home.
His teeth tease my lips, a shivering promise of more—later, when we're not hovering on the edge of an active crime scene with bodies disappearing into coroner vans.
When we don't have an audience, apparently.
An amused clearing of a throat breaks us apart. We give each other sheepish looks of silent laughter before we glance at the EMT who first put me in the oxygen mask.
"That works better on your face, just so you're aware," she says with a dry look at the mask hanging around my neck. "At least you're breathing easier. You feeling okay?"
"I am." I nod, breaking into a smile that feels like it takes over my entire face. "Thank you. I really am okay. I can tell when it's going to last, and I think I'm in the clear to go home."
"All right, but keep your local doctor on speed dial for a few days. The stress after incidents like this can catch up with you in surprising ways long after they're over." She gives me a long look, then glances at Micah. "You good?"
"Bruised knees, a few cuts on my hands. That's about it," he answers.
"Then I'm going to go do my job." She lifts a hand in a mock salute, then jogs off to join her coworkers, tending to the wounded—including an older woman in an EMT jacket who seems very, very interested in the wound staining Henri Fontenot's thigh.
Meanwhile, Grant Faircross growls at the technician fussing over a scrape on his forearm, and Lucas Graves patiently endures getting a cut on his shoulder stitched up.
Micah watches the rest of Redhaven PD for a minute or two, and I'd swear those cool eyes are almost fond .
Yeah, I think Micah's been lying to himself about his capacity to love for a long time when it's so clear in his eyes.
He loves his friends on the Redhaven police team.
He turns back to me, though, looking down at my hand that's still flat against his chest. Gently, he separates my fingers, stroking their length.
I wince, though I can only feel a minor twinge past the meds the EMTs gave me. They look like my grandfather's hands, or worse.
Swollen, my fingertips raw, my knuckles inflamed from the ropes against my skin. I probably should've had the medic take a look, but…
That means being apart from Micah longer.
"What happened to your fingers?" He frowns, turning my hand over with a gentle touch.
I smile weakly. "The princess tried to save herself. I tried to pick the rope apart and I was going to use it to strangle them."
"Brave girl." With an approving rumble, Micah kisses the center of my palm almost reverently. "You didn't even need me. You'd have gotten out of there just fine on your own. You're too stubborn not to."
"I did need you," I promise, leaning into him hard. I needed— I need —him for so much more than just this. "The odds were one in a million. Maybe I'd have found a way to escape on my own, but with you there, I knew I'd be safe."
"I'll never give you a reason to feel unsafe." Silvery ocean eyes capture me, bathing me in his love. "Let's go home, Talia, so I can look after you."
It's still over an hour before we can leave.
I end up tucked into the back of Grant's truck with Rolf and a pile of blankets, dozing contentedly with a pile of sleepy German Shepherd who clings to me like I've been gone for years. Micah takes care of business with statements, evidence, and discussions with Raleigh PD.
I overhear something about how the Feds wouldn't move and how typical that was, but they'll sweep in at the eleventh hour to take all the credit.
And then a hastily cleared throat, a glance at Micah, a "Not you, I mean."
Micah just laughs it off and joins me in the back of the truck.
We stay there for the drive back to Redhaven, Grant in the driver's seat and Lucas and Henri's vehicles trailing after us.
Micah holds me tight in his arms.
I don't even feel the chill night wind whipping over us when our blanket nest feels so warm. There's just the starry night above, his body wrapped around me, and his lips pressed against my hair as he holds me so tight.
That's when I know he's true to his word.
After tonight, he'll never let me go again.
I don't remember dozing off.
Soon, I'm waking up in Micah's arms. He carries me gently as he steps off the tailgate of the truck and lands on the sidewalk outside his house, so lightly I barely feel the jolt.
I open my eyes with a sleepy murmur, catching Grant's voice as he leans out of the driver's side window.
"Take good care of her," he rumbles.
"I can't do anything else, Captain." Micah's grip tightens.
Flushing, I hide my face in his chest.
I can feel his laughter, vibrating softly as he nuzzles my hair and turns to carry me up the walk. The click of Rolf's nails and his jingling collar follow us.
"I see someone's awake," he says.
"Mm-hmm." Curled up in the blanket still wrapped around me, I snuggle into him. "Sorry I fell asleep."
"Don't apologize. You've had one hell of a night. Let me get your hands taken care of, and then you can go to bed."
I don't want to go to bed , I think. Not unless it's with you .
It's an embarrassing thought, but I can't help it.
Feeling his arms around me now as the rush of adrenaline fades ignites something hungry inside me.
I've missed him.
Yes, it's barely been a few days, but I feel like he hasn't touched me in years. I'm exhausted, hurting bone-deep, and sore everywhere.
Yet all I truly want is Micah's touch.
I hold my tongue as he lets us into the house and carries me through the dark living room to the sofa. He tucks me gently into the corner, smoothing a hand over my hair.
"Wait here. I'll grab the first aid kit."
He starts to turn away from me, so tall and strong in the moonlight drifting through the windows, this striking white knight in black armor.
But I frown, reaching for Rolf as the dog jumps up on the sofa with me. He drapes himself halfway over my lap while I scratch his ears.
"Take care of Rolf first?" I can't stand to see it, this patch of blood dried on his jaws from where he bit Bowden. For some reason, that upsets me more than anything, this innocent animal stained in red.
Thank God he wasn't hurt.
Micah glances back at me, then comes back and kisses my forehead. "I'll get him cleaned up, then you."
I smile gratefully and touch his cheek, then watch as he turns away, flicking on the lights at their lowest setting to illuminate the cozy living room before he ducks into the kitchen and comes back with a wet rag.
He settles in with me and Rolf, hooking an arm over the dog's ruff and getting his face licked. He laughs loudly.
Is it just my imagination, or is he laughing easier now?
Like a crushing weight's been lifted off his shoulders.
I watch as Micah carefully wipes Rolf's muzzle clean. He pauses in the middle of the cleanup and looks at me.
"…what? Don't tell me I have blood on me, too?"
"No." I shake my head quickly. Well, there's a little on his bruised knuckles, but that's not the point. "It's just… you're different now. You seem lighter."
Micah freezes, except for the hand steadily scratching behind Rolf's ears, and tilts his head. He's wearing a puzzled look.
"I don't know. I thought I'd feel empty after this shit went down, with nothing left to live for. Actually, I feel relieved. Like I can finally breathe again, and the air tastes different."
"Does it taste good?" I bite my lip, holding back my smile.
"Yeah." He gives me a warm, lingering smile.
And he finishes cleaning up Rolf, then stands and slips away with one more kiss to my head. If I had any inkling of loneliness, that disappears when I end up with my arms full of German Shepherd.
I can't believe this beast used to hate me.
Giggling, I bury my face in his clean-smelling fur.
That's how Micah finds me, when he returns with a first aid kit tucked under his arm and one of his button-down shirts folded on top of it. He's traded his tactical gear for a pair of dark-grey pajama pants and nothing else.
As the lamplight paints his white skin gold, that lingering desire in me becomes a slow simmer. My gaze roams his sculpted chest, the narrow dip of his waist, the way his pelvis arrows past the line of the pajama pants.
With an almost shy smile, Micah holds up his shirt as he settles down on the sofa with Rolf between us.
"In case you wanted to change for bed. If you want to stay here tonight, I mean. I can take you back home. I shouldn't have—"
" Micah ." I touch his lips, but pull back when I realize my fingers are still bloody and scraped. "Let me stay with you tonight. I need to."
There's something reverent about the way he looks at me, this new man peeking past the storm clouds.
"I'm glad as hell to hear you say that," he whispers. "Because you belong here, Shortcake. I need you, too."
His confession leaves me dizzy.
We only lock eyes for a moment, my heart trembling in the silence, before he ducks his head and pops the first aid kit open.
He picks through it and finds a gauze pad and a small bottle of alcohol.
"This will sting a bit," he says. "I'm sorry."
Understatement of the century.
I think I'd have a better time juggling angry scorpions.
I grit my teeth, hissing as he wipes my fingers, sterilizing the abrasions and blisters before soothing them with some amber cream in an unmarked tin.
By the time he wraps each fingertip in a little cap of gauze, the pain fades with the sweet-smelling cream easing it away.
In a weird way, the hurt feels worth it.
Having Micah caring for me so tenderly makes my heart wobble.
He really does love me.
Part of me can't quite believe it's true.
The rest of me desperately needs to.
He finishes with my left pinky and lifts my hand to kiss my knuckles.
"There," he says softly. "The salve should stop any infection. You need anything else? Something warm to drink? I think I have some pills if you need help sleepi—"
He doesn't get to finish.
Because the need building inside me erupts, this explosive thing that can't help wanting this wonderful man who shows me his vulnerabilities, his kindness, the way he cares so flipping much no matter how hard he tries to hide it.
Seeing Micah Ainsley as he truly is, unburdened…
I can't help but kiss him like a crazy woman.
I lean over Rolf, seizing Micah's mouth quickly, hotly.
I catch his lips like I could devour his love—only to be devoured in turn.
For a second, there's this sweet, frozen stillness before his arm drags me in, crushing us together.
The motion sends Rolf scampering off the sofa with an offended grunt as he heads for the dog bed in the corner.
Micah kisses back with a ferocity like wildfire, this frantic heatwave that pricks me everywhere with burning pleasure.
That fire starts in my toes and leaves me burning every time his tongue teases my lips, delves inside me, opens my mouth until he steals my gasps.
"I need you," I whisper harshly. "You're all I need."
" Fuck , Talia," he groans. His fingers bunch up my shirt, dragging it up my back. "I need you out of these damn clothes."
I never thought I could be so bold.
But I'm the one standing, letting the blanket fall away as I take his hands, nearly tripping over Rolf as I lead him to the bedroom.
Halfway there, we're kissing again, under a spell, stumbling and pulling at my clothes and tossing them around until they litter the house.
I don't care.
Not when I'm addicted to his mouth , those sharp teeth driving me crazy.
His tongue plunges in, chasing mine until it feels like he's fucking me already.
Somehow, I'm naked and he's still wearing those pajama pants I can't stand when I need skin .
But when I reach for the waist of his pants, he catches my wrists, slamming me against the wall with just enough force to make my pussy throb.
"Naughty girl. Patience," he growls, pinning my wrists over my head with one hand. With the other, he skims down my naked body, teasing my breasts, flicking my nipples until I clench my teeth and exhale sharply.
Oh. My. God.
"When did you get so brazen?" He smiles slowly.
I'm writhing in his grip, pressed against the wall, straining toward him—then crying out as he catches my nipple and pinches deliciously.
Just right.
So right.
God, he always knows how to tease and how to make the pleasure feel ten times better, amplifying it with that sizzle until I'm panting as he toys with it over and over again, my eyes squeezing shut. I jerk at my wrists.
"Micah!" I plead.
I can't stand it anymore—and apparently neither can he.
A second later, he's not just pinning me with his grip but with his body, pressed against me from head to toe and letting me feel every muscular inch of him against my bare skin, his cock hard and straining through the cotton of his pants to nudge my belly.
His mouth storms over my neck, my shoulders—all bites and kisses, raw and wonderful, urgent and needy, pushing me to breaking point.
When his rough hand slips down and shoves my legs apart, I nearly lose it.
Of course, he finds me soaked.
He gently pinches my clit, locking eyes before he plunges two fingers inside me, giving me a savage taste of his desire.
Then, it's so on.
He plays.
He torments.
He claims everything I am.
He steals my breath until I'm sagging from his grip. My knees go weaker with every commanding thrust of his fingers, every roll of his thumb over the aching bud of my clit.
He bites down on my neck a little harder, a promise as he growls, "…how do you want me, Talia?"
I tremble as I realize what he's asking.
If—after everything I've been through—I can take him as he is.
Love him like he needs, no matter how rough he might be tonight.
"As hard as you want," I whisper, holding his silvery-blue eyes and arching until my thigh rubs his cock, begging to have him inside me. "As yourself."
Hellfire ignites in his eyes.
An inferno that tells me he's missed me just like I've missed him.
Fire, everlasting, proving he craves me with the same crazy energy as I crave him.
I'm so tuned in to his touch that it's like we've been apart for years, not days—and the absence makes everything so much more intense.
That's why I feel it in my bones when he takes me.
No gentleness.
No hesitation.
He lets his pants fall and his fingers dig into my ass, lifting me against him.
A groan boils out of him when I wrap my legs around his waist, spreading myself open for him, all so he can hold me in place with his hips.
His fingers fist my wrists, making me his willing captive as he drags his cock against my wetness and leaves me whimpering, squirming, aching inside.
Holy hell.
I'm one second away from outright begging when he gives me what I want.
Micah plunges inside me mercilessly, filling me with a single rough stroke.
We both gasp.
It's like being torn in the best way.
Pierced so deep, stretched open, touched in those intimate places that scream for his heat and his powerful, raw thrusts.
Our frantic breaths come in tandem as he takes me, fast and hard, slamming me into the wall over and over.
It's so animalistic I shudder.
The force of his thrusts stroke me until I'm screaming.
He answers with low growls—suddenly muffled as he buries his face against my throat, and his teeth sink in.
The sweetness is instant, fiery and almost bruising, exploding over me and turning every new thrust into a firestorm of obscene pleasure.
He's marking me again.
Etching himself on my body so there's no doubt who I belong to, this time forever.
He brands me inside and out, this wild thing, the two of us crashing together until I can't tell up from down.
I barely realize it when he lets go of my wrists.
Only that I'm free to cling to him now, to rake my nails down his back, to pull him in tighter and harder when I want him so deep, so deep , until I feel him inside me every time I move.
Sheer insanity.
That's what this connection is.
And I want more.
But we're both so tight-strung that we can't last forever—and when he bites me again, when he strokes my belly and pinches my breasts with a feverish grip like he's trying to consume me with his hands, when he surges up inside me and marks new places he's never reached before—
I am gone.
And it's so good I'm not coming back.
So hot.
So feral.
I come like fireworks, screaming his name and leaving marks down his back as I grind myself into him.
My pussy convulses on his cock.
My pulse beats like a drum.
Hard, throbbing, fluxing.
My body becomes this violent machine, and he becomes my master.
And he's right there with me, every blinding second.
"Don't fucking stop," he orders roughly. "Not before I come inside you."
Holy shit!
Fusing our bodies together, straining to reach even deeper inside me, I watch his head snap back and his eyes pinch shut.
He bares his teeth as his whole body tightens like a cord.
Then he's pulsing, jerking hot inside me, cursing his pleasure through shining teeth.
The instant he comes, he takes my soul.
I feel his come as his princely face becomes savage, as his hands bite my ass hard enough to hurt, as he marks me in the deepest way possible, flooding me with sin so sweet it must be divine.
I could never, ever be this way with anyone but Micah Ainsley.
Together, we're too perfect.
And after tonight, I'm certain we'll never let each other go.
So, it turns out I didn't need that shirt after all.
I'm quite content to snuggle up in Micah's arms as we collapse into bed together, tangled up and sated and breathless. It's wordlessly comforting to be held like this, to be reassured.
This is real.
It's not some fever dream caused by oxygen deprivation while I slowly suffocate to death in a barrel sinking to the bottom of the ocean.
Just the thought of what Xavier almost did—what he threatened to do—makes me shudder and huddle closer to Micah. His hand glides down my back, gathering me closer, like he knows .
"Shh," he whispers. "You're safe with me."
I let out a contented sigh.
And I burrow into him, breathing in his scent. But the relief is short-lived as his phone buzzes on the nightstand.
I open one eye, looking at it over his shoulder. He twists to glance back at it, then groans and buries his face in my hair, ignoring the call.
The name on the caller ID says Jane Henway .
I arch a brow. This better not be an eleventh-hour reveal with a secret wife back in New York or something.
"Shouldn't you get that?" I ask.
"Nah. That's my DEA handler. The one who told me I had to wait for the paperwork to go through before I could hit Xavier and save your life." His hold on me tightens. "They can wait until tomorrow to yell at me before I tell them to fuck off. They'll have to deal with me staying in Redhaven."
My heart nearly stops.
"You're staying…?" I pull back, just enough so I can see his face.
He opens his eyes, looking at me quietly, and pushes himself up to brush his lips over mine.
"There's nothing waiting for me in New York. Somehow, while I was busy faking fitting in here, I found my calling." He hesitates, his eyes lowering. "I made a real home here in Redhaven. I care about the people. The guys. Everyone." Those stark silvery-blue eyes meet mine again. " You . Obviously."
He's doing it again.
He's nearly tearing me apart with his honesty.
"I want to stay with you, Talia. Zero doubt." His lips quirk. "Though my ego's going to have to get over having a rich girlfriend."
"Huh?" I shake my head. "I'm broke, Micah. Xavier's check bounced. He said the Feds froze his accounts. He just used a cashier's check to lure me up to the house to ambush me."
"Wrong." Micah drags it out a little too long, a little too casually, before he grins. He falls back against the pillows, looking up at me smugly. "There's a one-point-five million dollar reward for information that leads to the arrest of the heads of the East Coast drug ring." His grin widens, and he reaches up to tap the tip of my nose. "I made sure my DEA handlers know I couldn't have pulled this off without you. You'll have a check in the next month."
My eyes widen.
Shock rips through me and comes out in a startled laugh.
"Wait. Wait, you're serious?"
"Never would've moved on Xavier without making sure you could take care of your grandfather first. Even if it means giving up my pay."
"I… You… Oh my God, thank you !" I tackle him in a flurry of blankets, hugging him and burying my face against his chest. "Thank you for caring about my grandfather."
"How can I not? He matters to you."
"But destroying Xavier was all you've ever wanted… and you'd have given that up?"
"I would. Because I was wrong." Micah kisses my hair over and over again, holding me against him like he never wants us apart. "Taking Xavier down was always second to what I truly wanted. That's you."
Oh, I don't know how my heart can get any fuller.
I definitely don't know what to say.
I can't fathom how to express how much I love this man—his good, his bad, his darkness, his light. His bravery, his strength, his secret kindness, and his brash sense of honor. The way he challenges me to take risks and cushions me when I fall.
I push myself up to meet those eyes that hold the entire universe.
"And I've been waiting my entire life to find you," I whisper, leaning down to kiss him.