Page 39 of Lose Me In The Shadows

“Make up for the fact that we kidnapped you? Kept you without your consent? Yeah, I know, that’s a big one.” Micah sighed. “Keep your eyes shut.”

He didn’t speak while he scrubbed away the dye that had dripped onto her neck and shoulders. She might want to know more about why they were dyeing her hair and what the plan was, but sheneededto have this conversation with him.

Micah continued. “I truly thought—think—that taking you was the right thing for you. That in time, you’d come around and realize your lackluster-at-best life was killing you, slowly but surely. I’m sorry that you don’t agree, but I still think I’m right.”

Kara grabbed his wrist, stilling him. He needed to hear her.

“I’m not going to deny that my life was lackluster. But you took away my freedom, my agency. Myconsent.”

“You always had your veto.”

“I’m not talking aboutsex, Micah. The power dynamic was always fucked because I had no options. If you really l— if you care about someone, you don’t take their choices away. That’s when they become a doll and not a person.”

She released his hand, having made her point, suddenly feeling very tired. Micah was quiet as he capped the dye and led her out of the shower.

“You are not a doll to us,” he said as she stood still and let him towel her dry, somewhat belying his words.

“What’s this, then?”

“Caring for you, baby,” he said. “Giving you what you need. You’re too smart to confuse that with objectifying you—no matter how much your fear of intimacy tries to convince you differently.”

That froze her. “I don’t—” she began.

“Baby.”

Thecome the fuck onwas implied.

“If you really, truly cared, if you really were giving me what I needed, you’d let me go when this is all over.”

He shook his head. “Are you sure that’s what you really need? What, you go back to Chicago, with your imaginary basset hound, boring dates, Lola, and a job you pretend to like? You’re meant for more than that, baby. I wish you could see it the way we do.”

“And I wish you could see that I want…”

“I’m not talking about what you want, Kara, I’m talking about what you need. What will make you truly happy. You weren’t happy in Chicago, and you certainly weren’t happy in New York with the professor. Think about it. Were you actually happy? Was Chicago a place where you were content, or a place you were hiding? And New York? Were you happy with the professor? Or was it just one more instance of reckless behavior to force a change in your life? One more time you went looking for love and belonging in the wrong place?”

“That’s not fair,” she protested, even though all he was doing was echoing the thoughts she’d had when she was being tortured at the Black Ops site. Back when they took her, shewasn’tclear on what she wanted. She wanted to escape. Sure, a good, clear, obvious goal, but why did she want it so badly, beyond this deep sense that she always needed to be able to have one foot out the door or the ability to leave at a moment’s notice to be happy? Was that happiness for her? Or was it fear?

What did she really want?

More importantly, what did she really need?

Micah wasn’t done. He took her chin in his hand, tilting her head up so she was forced to look in his blue eyes. Eyes that saw her for who and what she was—reckless, desperate, terrified—and liked her, regardless.

“Would you recognize it, if you found love and belonging in the right place?”

An alarm on his phone dinged and he released her.

“Back in the shower, I need to wash the dye out now.”

Kara tugged on his arm. “Are you claiming that this, with the three of you, is the right place? Because I don’t know what kind of foundation a relationship can have when it starts with a kidnapping.”

He chuckled. “Our relationships started long before we kidnapped you, baby.”

She nodded, acquiescing. “Fine. But relationships need to be founded on mutual respect. Where’s the mutual respect, Micah, if you refuse to admit what you did was wrong?”

“And if we do that, you’ll want to stay?” he asked her.

Kara didn’t speak. That was too scary a thing to confess—even to herself.

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