Page 72 of Pretty Heartache

“Addy.” My weakness for him using my nickname crumbles my defenses. I look up into his eyes. “I truly don’t know what made him come here, other than him asking for the pills before I told him to leave,” he whispers. “Maybe it was for you. Archer told him you were staying here. Did you not want him to know? Why are you so afraid of him?”

The pain and trauma of my childhood rears its ugly head. It mocks and taunts me. Memories I’ve repressed for years have come back, consuming me like a virus.

Tears sting the back of my eyes. It’s not that I assumed Archer would tell our father where I was, but I didn’t realize how afraid of facing my past I was until I’ve been faced with this very situation where my father knows where I am.

I want to be angry with Archer for telling him, but I should have known. I should have suspected he would tell him when he doesn’t know the whole truth.

“No, I didn’t want him to know.” I shake my head, unable to look at Micah. This is the part of my life I’ve tried to run from. I’ve tried to bury the past. I’ve locked it in a chest, tossed the key, and buried it under cold, hard dirt. But the sight of my father in the backyard has brought everything back up to the surface.

“Trust me, I get it. Your father isn’t perfect, but Archer’s never indicated he was bad enough to make you want to leave like this.”

I roll my eyes. “Of course he hasn’t.”

“Outside…” His velvet voice lingers between us. “Outside, he told me you and him weren’t close.”

“We aren’t,” I grind out. “You don’t understand.”

“Then, make me understand it. Talk to me, Addy,” he begs. “You’re right; I only know Archer’s side of the story—the one he was willing to tell me—but I don’t know yours. My history with your father isn’t more important than the truth. I want you to tell meyourtruth.”

Tears slip from my eyes, pressure building behind them. My chest is split wide open. Micah’s demand to hear the truth to prevent me from leaving is breaking me all over again.

“I can’t.” I close my eyes and take a resolving breath before I slink out from under Micah’s body. “I’m sorry.”

I feel my back pocket for my phone, but it isn’t there. Fuck. I left it on my bedside table, and I need to call Ember to see if she’ll pick me up.

I run back up the stairs, but Micah is quick behind me.

“Why are you running?”

“I’m not,” I tell him, crossing my room. I swipe my phone from the table and spin around, but I slam into Micah’s wall of a chest.

“You are.” He’s looking down at me. “Five minutes of seeing your father in my backyard has you running. There’s a reason.”

“Micah, please don’t do this.” I gulp, staring at his chest. Water fills my vision, emotion heavy in my chest. “I think it’s best if I go.” I step back, trying to walk around him.

“I can’t let you go.” He growls, closing in on me. “I won’t.” He cups his hands around my face again, forcing me to stop, and this time, I see his determination to make me stay.

All I want is this, with him. But how can I when he’s right?

One glimpse of my father, and old habits return. The instinct to flee and move on is burning through my veins. I’m acting on impulse. But despite the need inside me, seeing Micah begging me to stay makes me hesitate.

“Let me go.” I try my best to stay strong, to say it with conviction.

“If you think I’m just going to let you walk out of here without putting up a fight, you’re sorely mistaken, Addy.” He narrows his eyes but the softness in them remains.

His touch anchors me, keeping me from floating away. Escaping and running is easy. Facing the demons of your past takes bravery.

“Why are you here?” he asks calmly, running his thumbs under my eyes, catching my tears. “What are you runningfrom?”

I look over his shoulder, catching my reflection in the mirror hanging on the wall. I inhale a sharp breath and dart my eyes away.

“See?” he continues. “That right there. You won’t even look in the mirror. Every time you’ve been confronted with one, I’ve caught you looking away.”

Him admitting to catching me and my aversion to looking at my own reflection hits me in a way I’m not expecting. It’s as if I’ve been knocked down with a feather. My deepest, darkest secrets exposed. The truth is, I haven’t been able to look at myself in the mirror because my face is a reminder of everything I’ve lost. It’s a symbol of my hopes and dreams, shattered by the people who were supposed to love me.

“You were right.” I swallow, not able to tell Micah the truth. “We don’t know each other well. You’re my older brother’s best friend, and I’m just his silly little sister.”

“I was… wrong.”

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