Page 132 of Shut Up and Score
I blink fast and duck my head, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Thanks, Mom.”
Beside me, Micah shifts just slightly—close enough that our thighs touch—and his fingers brush mine under the edge of the comforter, curling gently around them. Hidden from view, quiet and steady. A grounding point.
My mom’s still watching us, her expression flickering—grief and guilt swimming behind her eyes. “I always wondered why you never said more to us,” she says softly. “Why you were so determined to go to the school…to clear things up after everything that happened with Micah.”
Micah stiffens beside me.
Her voice cracks, but she keeps going. “Your father and I—we didn’t know how deep it went. You just said it was wrong, that it got blown out of proportion, and that you had to fix it. We didn’t push, but when the school dropped the case and welcomed Micah back…” She trails off, her gaze flicking between the two of us. “I should’ve known.”
I swallow hard. “I didn’t let you.”
She nods slowly, eyes glistening. “No. You didn’t.”
A pause settles over the call, not heavy, but full. Like we’re all holding something between us that we’ve been carrying for too long.
Then she breathes out, softer now. “Well…don’t be strangers, you two. I expect to see you for dinner on Sunday.Bothof you.”
Micah’s fingers tighten around mine beneath the comforter. He’s gone still beside me, trying to process it all without showing how hard it’s hitting him.
My throat tightens again. “Okay,” I say, voice rough. “We’ll be there.”
She offers a small, real smile. “Good. I’ll make that sweet potato casserole you like.”
Then she leans a little closer to the camera and says gently, “Hi, Micah.”
Micah clears his throat, lifting his chin slightly. “Hi, Mrs. Taylor.”
Her smile deepens, eyes shining. “It’s good to see you again.”
I end the call before the silence stretches too long, then set the phone down with a quiet exhale.
For a second, we don’t move. Just breathe. Just exist in the space between everything we said and everything we still don’t know how to say. The sun’s dipped lower outside, shadows stretching long across Micah’s walls, and the room feels wrapped in something warmer than just afternoon light.
Micah shifts beside me, pushing up on one elbow and leaning over me, his curls falling into his eyes. There’s this look on his face—lit from the inside, almost stunned, like he’s seeing me for the first time but also seeing everything that’s always been there. His mouth curves into a slow, brilliant smile.
“You really did it,” he says, voice low but filled with something bright and breathless.
I nod, my fingers brushing his jaw. “Yeah,” I whisper. “I did.”
He leans down and kisses me, soft and lingering, memorizing the shape of this new truth between us. And I let him, every cell in my body humming with relief, with hope, with something terrifyingly close to joy.
We don’t say anything else for a while. We don’t need to.
Because for once, we’re not pretending. And for once, we’re not alone in it.
THIRTY-FOUR
MICAH
I kiss him once,and then I can’t stop.
His cheek. His jaw. The tip of his nose. I press my mouth to every part of his face I can reach, grinning like a fucking idiot, unable to hold it in. The happiness—I don’t even know where to put it all. It’s in my chest, my hands, my lips, spilling out in this dizzy kind of relief that makes me feel seventeen again and brand new all at once.
Colton laughs, real and unguarded, head tipping back against the pillow as I chase the sound with another kiss under his ear.
“Micah—” he tries, but he’s breathless and glowing and mine.
“You did it,” I whisper, barely able to get the words out between kisses. “You really fucking did it.”
