The apartment was dark except for lights under the kitchen cabinets and baseboards. Still, I could feel Micah looking at me from his sprawled position on the couch. We hadn’t said a word to each other in what felt like forever.
“It’s a miracle you’re still awake,” I whispered.
“I slept on the plane,” he whispered back. “Brandon was too anxious about seeing you to sleep.”
The thought made me smile.
“You don’t deserve him, you know.”
Hurt pierced me. “What?”
“Brandon. You don’t deserve him. Neither do I. He’ll love us until the end of time, no matter what shit we pull. He deserves better friends than us.”
“I’m going to make it up to him. I’ll never treat him like that again,” I vowed.
He scoffed. “You don’t know that. Let’s face it, Sky—you and I are two of the most selfish, self-absorbed bastards on the planet. That’s why we love each other. No one else would put up with us.”
Anger burned in my gut. “You don’t know me anymore.”
“I know you left. I know you run. That’s who you are.”
“I’m not running now.”
He shrugged. “So you say. Look, I’m not judging you. I’m not perfect either. I can admit that. And I’m not looking for perfect from you. I don’t expect that. I never have.”
“You’re still angry with me.”
“Of course I am. I made love to you and you skipped town the next day. For almost two years.”
“As wrong as I was to do that, you get why, right?” I leaned forward, my eyes narrowed, waiting for him to show me he wasn’t completely oblivious.
“Because you’ve always been afraid of your feelings for me.”
His arrogance made me feel like I’d been punched in the stomach. “You think I left because we slept together?”
“Well, you did leave right after it.”
“Yes. I did. Because I never meant for that to happen. Because it was too much to deal with on top of what I was really dealing with.” I realized I was almost shouting and lowered my voice to a whisper. “I spent most of our fame avoiding my mother because I didn’t want her to know that she’d spent all of her time and money, nearly wrecking her relationship, on a dream that as it turned out, I didn’t want. And that sounds stupid now, but back then, it felt huge. I was a kid. And I wasted all that time avoiding her. All that time I can’t get back because two masked gunmen broke into the house I bought her and they murdered her for a fucking painting. And two days before you and I slept together, the cops told me that although they’d keep looking, their leads had gone cold.
“Finding them,” I bit out, the rage that still burned deep in my guts curdling my words, “was the only thing that kept me going when she died. And then that justice slipped out of my hands. I had nothing but my grief. I wish I could’ve been stronger, as strong as I feel now, but I wasn’t then. I just wanted to disappear. I wanted to exist in a world where I wasn’t Skylar Finch, the pop-rock princess whose mother had been shot in the head. So, no, Micah, I didn’t leave because of you.”
Hearing the disdain in my voice, he sat up. He looked haggard as he stared at the floor.
Silence pressed upon us but I couldn’t bear to speak another word. I’d missed Micah, but perhaps I’d missed him through rose-tinted spectacles. Or maybe, finally, I was free of whatever spell he’d had me under and I could see him for who he really was. He wasn’t a bad person. He’d been hurt a lot in his young life. But his aloneness, his need for self-protection, had also made him incredibly selfish and self-involved.
If he thought we were the same, then I had a lot of work ahead of me to make sure I lived my life as a better person.
“You’re not in love with me anymore,” he suddenly said.
My stomach flipped at the words, hating that being honest in this case was going to be painful. The last thing I wanted was to be another person who rejected and disappointed Micah. “I care about you.”
“But you aren’t in love with me.”
I exhaled slowly, the sound shuddering in the quiet dark of the apartment. “No, I’m not. I’m sorry.”
“Maybe you never were.”
“I loved you. I was attracted to you. But I think . . . sometimes I think we were more addicted to the longing than to the loving.”
“How do you mean?”
“As long as we were pining for each other, we didn’t give ourselves a chance to be in an actual relationship where we could disappoint and hurt each other until there was no coming back. Instead we got to hold onto fantasizing about each other. The angst was more powerful than the love.”
He grunted. “Or maybe it’s simply that there’s someone else for you now.”
God, he was asking me to hurt him. “Micah—”
“Is there someone else?”
I couldn’t tell him about Killian, but again, I didn’t want to lie to him. “Yes.”
He blew out a shaky breath. “The friend you were talking about?”
“Yes.”
“And you love him? It is a him, right?”
“Yes, it’s a him. And yes, I am in love with him.” I sat forward as he turned his face toward the light so I saw the pain slash across it. “Micah, I’m not all those things you said. I refuse to be. And the fact that you think that of me . . . Love isn’t tearing someone down to bring them to your level. Love is seeing in the person you love,” my voice cracked on the emotion as I thought about Killian’s belief in me, “the best possible version of who they can be.”
His jaw clenched but he nodded, tears shimmering in his eyes.
“You know I’m right.”
He kept nodding, swallowing hard as if trying to swallow his emotions.
“If you came here for me for yourself or for the band, I’m not going home with you.”
Micah finally looked at me. “So, you’re never coming home?”
I gave him a sad smile. “I am home.”
“Shit,” he exhaled shakily, drawing a hand through his hair. “I need a drink.”
Concern prickled over me like a chill had blown through the room. “Don’t say that.”
He grimaced. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to. I just . . . I have triggers, you know.”
I was almost afraid to ask. “I . . . I’m a trigger?”
Micah didn’t reply, but his expression spoke for him. Worry gnawed at me and as the night wore on, I forced myself to stay awake, to watch him, until jet lag finally dragged Micah down with it. Convinced he was out and there was no way he’d leave to find that drink, I crashed out beside Brandon on my bed, so exhausted not even his snoring could keep me awake.
* * *
“SKY.” MY BODY WAS GENTLY shaken, leading me up out of dream world. “Sky, wake up.”
I grumbled and reluctantly opened my eyes. It was still dark outside. “What time is it?” I mumbled.
Brandon’s head appeared above mine. His hair was sleep-tousled but his eyes were no longer bloodshot with exhaustion. “It’s seven forty-five. We’re making breakfast.”
“Some things do change.” I watched as he strolled out of the room. “I’ll be right out.” I rolled over and reached for my phone on the bedside table. I’d put it on silent last night so as not to be disturbed with the guys, and I’d forgotten to switch it back on. I expected a message or a missed call from Killian but there was nothing. I did have a text from Autumn.
Killian said Micah and Brandon have come to visit. Hope all is okay? xx
I sat up and quickly texted her back.
They slept here becoz we talked so long . . . I think we’ll be ok.
And I did. Brandon didn’t know how to hold a grudge, even though I’d changed his life (something I still intended to face and discuss with them) and Micah . . .
I think eventually Micah would come around.
I shuffled into the kitchen to find Micah making—“Holy crap, are you actually making us frittata?”