Page 9 of Micah

“Hey,” he says, catching me by the wrist before I can fully get away. “Avery, we need?—”

“It’s almost seven,” I say, so fucking thankful that time is actually on my side for once. “We have to get Henry back to the shelter.”

“Or he could stay,” Micah says.

I stare at him for several seconds before what he’s trying to say sinks in. Any lust or shred of embarrassment dissipates, instantly replaced by anger. Now it all makes sense. Micah signed Henry out of the shelter not to support Haley’s new program. Oh no. He was hoping to convince me to adopt him. Despite how adamant I’ve been about thatnotbeing a realistic possibility.

My heart breaks open, wishing like hell I could make it work. But because I know it’s not possible, I let anger fill in the cracks. “I fucking hate you right now.”

6

MICAH

Sleep is fucking elusive.

Though I expected Avery to be mildly upset about my plot to sway her to adopt Henry—usto adopt him—I didn’t expect her outright anger. I know her last words were spoken in ire, that she doesn’t really mean them, but they sting all the same.

I fucking hate you right now.

I slip on a pair of sweatpants and head for the kitchen. I don’t think a late night PB&J will do much to help me sleep, but I’m willing to give it a shot. If that doesn’t work, I might head upstairs to paint.

I’m careful to stay light on my feet and close my door quietly. Though Avery’s room is down the hall, certain creaks in the floor echo throughout the entire house. Something Declan has promised he’ll help me fix once he’s settled in his new place. No matter what happens with Avery, I’m still planning to buy this house.

Thankfully, the water damage we discovered in the wall upstairs was an isolated incident. A reminder from a bad rainstorm last year and a broken attic window that was fixed but apparently let in more water than we realized. Malcom, Declan’solder brother, texted me the good news while I was at the park earlier with Avery and Henry.

I’m still disappointed that we took Henry back to the shelter. Those two are a bonded pair. I don’t know why she can’t accept that they belong together. That the three of us belong together.

Halfway to the kitchen, a loud creak echoes. Turning, I discover Avery frozen in the hall like a deer in headlights. Bare legs are covered only by an oversized t-shirt that hangs halfway down her thighs.Myt-shirt.

My dick twitches with interest.

“I’m still mad at you,” she said, glaring at me in the dimly lit hall.

If she were wearing anything else, I might give her some space. But now things are starting to make a little more sense. She’s mad, at least in part, because she wants me. And she wishes she didn’t.

I slowly strut her way, not above playing dirty if it’ll help her drop the damn wall she’s fortified around her heart when it comes to us.

She backs up against the wall, pressing her palms against the wallpaper—something else that’ll need to go—as I cage her in with a hand on either side of her. “You are?” I ask, a devilish grin spreading.

“Yes,” she says, but her answer doesn’t hold much conviction. Her chest rises and falls quickly, but it’s not fear. Oh no. There’s liquid heat in those beautiful eyes. Her fingers curl against the wall, as though she’s desperate to reach for me. What will it take for her to give up the fight? To finally surrender to what’s been simmering between us since our college days?

I peer down at her, raking my greedy gaze down the length of her body. “Do you always steal someone’s clothes when you’re mad at them?”

“Wh—” She glances down at the shirt, and her agape mouth clamps shut.

I lower my head, until my lips are a feather’s width from the shell of her ear, and ask, “Was that why you were really in my closet, Avery?”

“I—I?—”

I trace my fingertip along her jawline, ever so gently tipping her chin up. “Have you beensleepingin my shirts?”

“Sometimes.” The single word is raspy as she licks her bottom lip, reminding me how much I enjoyed our unexpected make out session earlier. I was dead asleep when suddenly she was straddled in my lap, her mouth hungrily pressed to mine. I was convinced it was a dream. Until she panicked and ran scared.

“Just how many times have you stolen my shirts?” I brush my fingers over her collarbone, following the trail along the oversized neck of my shirt. “And are you wearing anythingunderit?”

Avery’s eyes double.Shit. I’ve crossed a line. I only meant to tease her. To give her something to dream about when she scurried back to her bedroom. But dammit, I wasn’t prepared for how much seeing her in my shirt would fucking unravel all common sense in my brain.

I push off the wall, turning away before I do something reckless. I need to put some space between us before?—

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