Page 104 of Always Knew It Was You

“Yeah, I’m good.” My voice is hoarse, but I’ve managed to fight back the worst of the emotionality by that point. “I’m really sorry about all of this, Grandpa. I feel a little responsible.”

“Nonsense.” He waves his hand. “You’re not any more responsible than I was for the time an ex-girlfriend tried to run me over with her car because she heard another girl at school liked me. Say, did I ever tell you that story?’

“Yes,” Emma and Yule deadpan simultaneously.

“Oh?” He rubs his chin. “Well, I’m going to tell you again. It was a cool and rainy afternoon….”

About an hour and a long, convoluted story later, we’re finally done cleaning, and Emma, Yule, and Grandpa say their goodbyes at the entrance of the restaurant.

At this point, I’m conflicted. On one hand, I just want to go home and rest and wash the day off of me. On the other hand, I don’t feel good about leaving Micah in jail overnight either. I also don’t like leaving things unresolved between us.

So I sigh and catch a bus to the police station.

When I get there, from the entrance, I already hear the raucous conversation. I listen to Micah’s voice loud and clear, arguing with someone about the dimensions of a building’s foundation. I hear Shoreton arguing back and then I hear the sheriff telling them both to shut up or he’ll put them in solitary.

“It’s a jailhouse, not a prison, Sheriff,” Micah counters. “And you can’t put me in prison for being right!”

At that point, the sheriff rubs his temple in annoyance and notices me lingering at the doorway. Relief flashes in his face. “Come to get him out of my hair?”

I nod.

“Good. I’m tempted to have him sleep here the whole night, but something tells me he’s going to be a pain in my ass.”

As I glance at them arguing, Micah’s still gesturing wildly as he discusses the jailhouse’s lack of proper ventilation.

“This is inhumane,” he says, “It smells like piss and donuts in here, and someone could pass out and get their—”

He freezes when he sees me, the words dying on his tongue. “Carly...”

He turns and his hands grip the bars as I walk forward.

My emotions are a mix of several things–relief, gratitude, affection, and sadness. But for some reason, it’s the frustration that rushes to the forefront.

I raise my eyebrow as I stare at him. “Really? That’s all you have to say to me?”

He gives me a crooked grin. “You still mad at me, huh?”

“Of course, I’m mad at you, Micah.” The words rush out of me and for the first time in a long time, I don’t care about my tone or who might be watching. I don’t care about keeping up my perfect mask. I only see Micah and I need him to see me. “Do you know what I hate more than anything in life? Spectacle. I hate being involved in it. I hate being the subject of discussion and having people look and talk about me all the time. I’ve lived with that embarrassment my whole life because of my parents. As a teenager, do you know how many times I’ve had to rescue my dad from a bar brawl? I don’t want to do that anymore. I chose you because I thought you wouldn’t make me do that, that you were more stable than he was.” Micah’s face falls at the comparison, and guilt pricks me. That was wrong. He’s nothing like my dad.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.” I take a breath. “I appreciate what you did and why you did it. I know you were just trying to protect my honor, but I don’t want you getting in fights because of me anymore. Okay? If we’re going to be together, then I need you to act like an adult and not put me in this position–”

I cut off when I realized what I just said, regretting that last sentence as heat fills my face.Ah, shit. I didn’t mean to say that.

I’m hoping Micah will ignore it, but he doesn’t.

“Wait.” A slow smile spreads across Micah’s cheeks. “Is this you asking to be my girlfriend?”

I blush even more aggressively. Drat. “That’s n-not what I was s-saying,” I stutter. I’m suddenly hyperaware of all the men in the jail cell watching. “Micah I–”

“Because if you’re asking, the answer is yes,” he continues, excitement brimming in his voice.

That stuns me silent again. “What?”

“I want you to be my... girlfriend.” He seems a little puzzled as he says it, but confident as well, his smile widening. “I think I’ve wanted to ask you for a while now but I didn’t know how to bring it up.”

I gape. “Really?”

He nods and I don’t know what to say next. This is... I can’t...

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