Page 37 of Extraction Play

If not this, then the fact she was sleeping with his sister.

“Nuh-uh, none of this ‘telling you because it’s practical’ bullshit.” He jabbed a finger at her, his hazel eyes flashing. “Tell me because I’m your friend. Because you want me to share in your dreams and successes. If not, don’t even fucking bother.”

Pixie bit her lip hard enough she tasted blood. He wasn’t wrong, and Micah had an uncanny way of drilling in for the truth.

She ducked her head. “I don’t know if it’s my dream, okay? The reason I didn’t bring it up is that I’m so conflicted right now that I couldn’t sort it out for myself, let alone with someone else.”

Silence spread between them, as thick as peanut butter and just as lingering.

“What’s been going on?” he asked softly. “I know I’ve been in my own world recently, sucked into a new relationship and all. I feel like we had reconnected hard when I first showed up, but we’re already drifting.”

Pixie ran her fingers through her hair. Peeling back the trauma with her mother overwhelmed her too much, and confessing she believed everyone was moving on without her would end with a lot of denials. “I’ve been lost lately.” It was the unvarnished truth, even if she didn’t dive into the myriad reasons why. “Just looking for the purpose everyoneelse around me has found. So when Francis swept in with the opportunity, it seemed stupid to deny it outright.”

Micah huffed. “I hate that.”

“What?” Her palms had left sweaty imprints on the pillow, but she refused to let it go.

“I can’t just hand you over something like purpose. No easy fix there to keep you in the area.”

Pixie snorted. “If it were that easy, I would’ve asked you a while ago.” Her chest twisted. This was the friend connection she’d miss if she left. She was tempted to call back Francis and tell him no, but she also needed to dig into herself to uncover the source of this gnawing feeling threatening to devour her alive. The instability that had her unable to derive joy from the things she once loved.

“However,” Micah said, fixing her with a firm stare. “I will say the area wouldn’t be the same without you. Not only would Whipped be missing one of its sluttiest subs, but I’d have to try making more friends, and let’s be real. You’re one of the few people who’s put up with me this long.” His levity was classic Micah, and Pixie wanted to hold that close to her chest. Still, she didn’t miss the intensity in his gaze or the slight sharpness to his tone.

Pixie shook her head. “You read me like the back of a book.”

“Hand,” Micah corrected.

Pixie lifted her hand. “What’s wrong with it?”

“Back of a hand.”

Pixie flipped her hand to the back. “Looks fine to me.”

Micah tossed one of the throw pillows at her. “Never mind. Just promise me this. Don’t leave me out in the cold. I might not be able to solve your problems, but you’re my best friend, so treatme like one.”

“Ouch, straight for the jugular,” she said, grabbing one of the pillows and flinging it at Micah. A laugh exploded from her chest as it smacked him right in the face.

“You little shit.” Another pillow came flying right at her.

She dodged, but it clipped her on the shoulder. Pixie grabbed it from the floor and flung it right back. Micah let out a bark of laughter as he scrambled for two, hurling them in her direction. How many fucking pillows did she have on her couch?

Her chest eased as she tossed another his way, whooping with laughter.

Micah launched another straight into her face, which cut off the laugh, but a wave of giddiness swept through her.

She plucked a blanket from the couch and lifted it as a shield. “Let’s see you try anything now, jackass.”

The door creaked, and they both froze in place, Micah clutching the pillow while she held the blanket.

Eva entered, looking muted, like she’d been drawn in monochrome. Her hair was pulled back in a perfect bun, and her button-down and skirt were smooth, but her normally expressive eyes were haunted. Guaranteed, packing up her old life had taken the energy out of her. Still, Pixie’s heart stopped and restarted as if someone had taken paddles and jolted it back to life.

A second later, a pillow went flying toward Eva’s face.

It hit with a thwack and fell to the ground, and Eva stared at both of them, nonplussed.

Quiet settled over them before a grin cracked onto Eva’s features. “Micah, you little shit.”

An audible exhale left Pixie as Eva reached down, plucked the pillow from the floor, and launched it at him.

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