Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 138169 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138169 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
Worry furrows his brows and my frown deepens.
“Micah? What’s wrong…?”
He purses his lips, then glances over his shoulder, though I can’t make out what he’s looking at. “Is there somewhere we can talk? Alone?”
Hello, alarm bells.
But I nod, taking a step back. “This way—our loft is right above the store.”
“Let’s go.”
I turn to lead him into the workshop, although there’s a part of me shriveling up as I remember Grandpa grilling me about the ‘date’ I never had. Hopefully, he’s still too caught up in work to notice I’m not alone.
Ha, good luck.
The instant Micah steps into the workshop, his silvery eyes scanning curiously, Grandpa lifts his head and looks at him with a slow, knowing smile.
“Who’s this fine young man?” he asks. “You a friend of my Tally-girl? Or are you just here on business?”
Micah doesn’t miss a beat.
He steps forward, offering his hand.
“Officer Micah Ainsley. Only Talia can tell you if we’re friends. You must be Gerald Grey. I’ve always admired your work when I’ve seen it around town.”
Grandpa chuckles loudly.
“The boy starts with flattery. Smart.” He shakes Micah’s hand firmly—then stops, still clasping his hand, giving him a long look. “Strong handshake.”
“The only respectful kind.” Micah inclines his head.
“Yes, yes, it is.”
Whoa.
There’s some secret man ritual passing between them, something I don’t get. Their hands clasp together almost like warriors meeting off the battlefield.
But I remember now.
A long time ago, before I was born, Grandpa left Redhaven. He doesn’t talk about it much, his old combat memories from Vietnam. But upstairs in the albums there are photos where he’s young and dapper. Decked out in his uniform, even if his eyes are haunted by war.
That’s the way he and Micah look at each other now.
Like soldiers.
Like two men who share a certain strength that makes them kin, even though they’ve never truly met before.
Soon, Grandpa pats Micah’s hand with his other hand, then lets go, smiling brightly. “It’s good to see you, young man. Well, up close, I should say, since you didn’t come in last night.”
Oh. My. God.
“Grandpa, no. He was just walking me home.” I drop my face into my hand.
“All I’m saying,” Grandpa says innocently, “is that he could’ve popped in to say hello.”
Micah smiles blankly. “Truth be told, I wasn’t entirely sober, sir. I wouldn’t have made the best first impression.”
“Hmph. Not all sober yet he still thinks to walk a girl home after dark, huh?” Grandpa’s eyes twinkle. “Tally-girl, you’ve found a good one.”
Oh no.
No, no, no, I do not want Micah knowing about my silly little crush.
I definitely don’t want to think about how he almost kissed me last night or how maybe he didn’t and I just misread the signals.
I don’t want any of this and I step forward quickly, breathlessly catching Micah’s wrist in my fingertips.
“We need to talk about something for work,” I say quickly. The man in question stares at me with the most startled look I’ve ever seen, blinking down at my hand around his wrist and then up at me. He even stumbles a step as I tug him desperately toward the stairs. Please just go along with it. “We’re heading up.”
“Don’t forget to make tea!” Grandpa calls after us as I try to drag Micah upstairs. “I’ll be going out, so behave yourselves!”
I stop a few steps up, eyeing him past Micah’s shoulder. “Where are you going?”
“Errands, girl.” He’s still feigning innocence. “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”
Even if he’s feigning innocence… there’s a real worry there.
He knows it, too.
He knows I worry when he goes out alone, wondering if he’ll have a bad spell and wander off, but he really does seem okay today.
So I nod slowly while he gives me a heavy look.
“Go on,” he says.
Sighing, we go before Grandpa has another chance to embarrass me forever.
Once we’re up in the loft, I release his hand and stumble away from him.
I feel like I’m going to pass out if I blush any harder. I groan, scrubbing my hands over my face.
“Sorry about that,” I say. “He’s terrible with me making friends. You know, the sheltered childhood thing and all. I was never much good at it.”
“Didn’t mind. He seems pretty charming.” Micah glances back at the stairs with a discerning look. “He’s doing well today?”
“…yeah. Well enough. He’s lucid and living in the present.” I smile slightly. “The good days really are good.” But if I think about that too hard, my emotions will turn me into a wreck, and then I’ll end up blubbering all over Micah without even finding out why he’s here. So I gesture to the kitchen table, breezing past it to put the kettle on. “What did you come to talk about? I haven’t been back to see Xavier yet. We’re finalizing some concepts before there’s any need to stop by the house again.”