Page 48 of Tapped

Both sleeves are intricate, but inked into the artwork of his right arm is part of a clock falling into an hourglass. Roman numerals are etched into the bottom of the glasswork. It’s so detailed, I can’t figure out what the date is while he’s eating.

It’s hard to focus on anything with him sitting on my sofa eating a late-night dinner in front of the TV. The lights are low. Besides the glow from the game, only the accent lights from the kitchen are filling our space as the sun sets and my house darkens.

For anyone else on a Friday night, this might be intimate and familiar, but I can’t stop thinking how different my life was just a few days ago.

I set my wine and plate on the coffee table and turn to him. “Why are you here?”

He stabs a piece of broccoli and mixes it with breaded chicken this time, but doesn’t answer.

“Micah,” I call to him.

His blue eyes tilt to me, but he keeps eating.

“Why are you here?” I repeat.

He swallows and takes another swig of beer that’s now resting between his legs on my sofa. A napkin comes to his lips before he asks. “Do you want the whole truth or part of the truth?”

“What’s the difference if it’s all the truth?”

“I guess the better question is can you handle the whole truth?”

I shake my head. “Honestly, I don’t know. Before yesterday I thought I could handle anything. Today, I’m on shaky ground.”

“Then I’ll give you part of the truth.” He pauses and tips his head. “You sounded sad and scared. You’re alone and someone has been paid to make sure you and your son are dead.”

My gut tightens. He’s so matter-of-fact about my demise.

He hikes a brow. “By the look on your face, I’m right. It’s not fun to be right about shit like that.”

“You’re right,” I whisper.

“I’m hardly ever wrong, Evie.”

I can’t help it. I have to press my lips together to not smile at his cockiness. I’ll never admit it to him, but he wears it well.

He lowers his voice. “You might still be sad, but there’s no reason for you to be scared when I can do something about it, so I’m here.”

“Thank you for that.”

“You’re welcome.”

I ask the question that’s been on the tip of my tongue since he told me he was on his way over. “How long are you staying?”

I swear, his gaze sharpens. “How long do you want me to stay?”

I mull my words around in my head, and just decide to put it out there. If I sound needy and desperate, it’s because I am. “I slept last night after you got here. After what happened yesterday, I didn’t think I’d get a wink. But once I put that damn gun away, I crawled in bed with Chase and actually slept.”

“I didn’t sleep at all last night.”

I bite the inside of my mouth and realize I’ve overstepped. “It’s okay, Micah. I don’t want to guilt you—”

“I’m a light sleeper,” he interrupts. “Do you want me to spend the night?”

I exhale a sigh of relief and decide to just go for it. “Will you?”

“I’msingle,” he stresses the last word. “So, yeah. Since I have nothing to do, I’ll spend the night with you. Thanks for asking.”

He’s teasing, just like before.

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