Page 166 of The Darkest Chase

I close my eyes, shaking my head sharply and pressing the heel of my palm against my temple, like I can force that voice out.

Shut it.

Shut the fuck up.

“Micah?” Talia’s voice breaks the stillness. It’s insidious how her softness gets into me, how she somehow wears down my barriers. Not with force, no, but more like the slow way a river carves a canyon a mile deep. “Are you okay?”

Yes.

Keep it the fuck together.

I open my eyes and pin on my Officer Friendly smile, even though I never use that smile with her.

“Yeah. Slight headache. Just a long day.”

Hurt flashes in her eyes. She looks at me like I’m a stranger.

Damn.

I don’t know how to tell her that the stranger is the real me.

Fortunately, Ariana saves me from having to say anything else.

She rips the top sheet off the notepad and offers it to me with a trembling smile. “Here. I tried a lot of different combinations, but hopefully one of these will work.”

“Thank you, Miss Lewis,” I say, taking the note and standing quickly. I hold my smile like it’s the only thing keeping me sane. “I’ll be in touch if we need anything else or have any additional information to share. Have a good day.” I nod to Talia, who’s still watching me like she’s trying to figure out what changed. “Miss Grey, let’s head out.”

“Ah, right. Sure.” Talia stands with a confused smile for Ariana. “Thank you so much for talking to us. I’m sorry for your loss, again.”

“Thank you.” Ariana’s eyes gleam briefly.

I turn and walk out.

I tell myself I’m giving Ariana space. No more people barging in and expecting shit from her or asking her to pretend she’s okay, running from her feelings.

Really, I feel like I’m the one running now.

Running from this expectation to be human with the harsh gravity of Talia’s hurt and confusion hot on my heels.

We barely make it to the parking lot before she stops me—reaching out for my hand, touching the back of my palm before I unlock my patrol car.

“Micah?” Talia asks. Her voice sounds so wounded it makes me want to drop everything and hold her until that wound stops bleeding. “What’s wrong?”

I don’t know.

Nothing and everything.

I shrug, glancing at her casually. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

“That was not fine,” she says with a firmness that surprises me. Her mouth tightens and her hand remains on mine. “Please tell me the truth. What happened to you in there?”

“I felt a little awkward, given the situation. That’s all.”

“Because you called me your girlfriend?”

There it is—the fucking can of worms I opened when she asked me what we really are, and I couldn’t stop thinking about how much I’m going to hurt her.

When she finds out that’s all I can do and realizes she deserves better.

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