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I squeeze my knees together. My heart pumps so fast, I feel breathless. “And you think I don’t want that?”
“I think you’re not ready for it.” His stare locks onto mine, begging me to deny it. “I have to admit, I’m loving this line of questioning, though.”
The edge of the water laps at my nipples. I scoop up a handful and let the droplets skim across the swell of my breasts while I lean back, watching them roll and then catch on the lace of my bra.
We’re quiet for long enough that my intrusive thoughts win. Sitting here, doing this, it’s not normal. I am in a hot tub in Micah Freeman’s house…in my underwear! “How many other girls have you brought here?”
He swallows. “Exactly zero. I bought this house after I broke up with my ex.”
I know the story. No one could get away from it if you lived within two states of Tennessee. It was everywhere. In fact, Tab adjusted the length of the video she posted online to cut out the cringe-worthy portion of my happy, gas-fueled ramble where I ask her if I’m prettier than Micah’s ex. Not my finest moment. “I don’t want to talk about her.”
“Me neither.” He takes a big gulp of wine to empty his glass and stares out over the lake. “We should get back to us.”
I place my hand over my heart, feeling it beat hard like a drum. In the empty spaces between, annoyance pushes through, and then the jitters descend. Just one mention of her, and I’m flustered. More than flustered, I’m…panicked.
This can’t be happening. Not now.
“Are you okay?” Micah asks.
I nod, trying to get my breathing under control. My lids flutter closed, and I count my breaths to four and back, inhaling and exhaling.
“Talk to me,” he commands, and I’m startled when his voice is much closer than before. I can hear it easily, even over the rush in my ears.
“I’m fi?—”
A hand covers my own across my chest, and I peer up to find Micah in the hot tub with me, white shirt drenched up to his chest. “Breathe.”
Athena, who’d usually be right by my side, still sleeps on the couch. She lets her guard down when Micah is around, which is saying a whole hell of a lot. The idea that it’s him reassuring me gives me pause. “It’ll go away,” I tell him.
These bouts of anxiety have happened to me my whole life but have been so much worse since the storm. So. Much. Worse. At some points, even debilitating.
I take a deep breath, willing away the rush of memories that spring forward of the freight-train like noise barreling down on us. I reach out, clenching my fingers around Micah’s bicep.
“Should I get your pills?”
My eyes fly open. “How do you know I take medication?”
“I’m obsessively observant.”
That’s one way to look at it. The other could be called something not so flattering. I take steadying breaths, one after the other.
“Should I wake Athena?”
I shake my head, and as soon as I do, he moves in closer, fitting his body to mine until we’re touching more than we’re not. With my head on his shoulder, he keeps his hand on my chest to monitor my heart rate, cradling me.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispers.
“Yeah, every last malfunctioning part of me,” I mutter as I wrangle my body under control.
“Your imperfections are perfect reminders of your history.”
I trace the outline of his chest over his shirt, wondering if he knows what happened to me. I wouldn’t be surprised. He knows a good deal already.
I don’t know what time it is, but the sky has turned dark, the stars shining in a tapestry of twinkling lights before myanxiousness subsides. “You must be exhausted,” I murmur to Micah.
He shakes his head. “I’m the most alive I’ve ever been.”
His hand slips when I shift, his fingers accidentally tracing the curve of my breasts. The simple touch ignites another fire inside me. I’m torn between wanting him and the fear of giving in. If I give in, what happens when he leaves me? Most everyone has. The only constants in my life are Granny, Pawpaw, Tab, Athena, and the wind through the wildflower fields back home.