Page 183 of Drown Like Heaven
Chapter 48
Dakota
Sunlight was slanting through the blinds in Micah’s bedroom at an angle, striping across my face on the pillow. My whole body was sore, and my whole mind was ashamed. But I didn’t have time to ruminate on my mistakes. Micah didn’t say anything to me last night when I showered, though I was sure he’d been suspicious—whywouldn’the be?
I hate myself. I’ll always be like this.
Wincing with pain, I crawled out of bed and made my way into his bathroom, the heated tiles warm under my bare feet. The warmth soothed me a bit and I was tempted to sit on the floor, or curl into a ball on my side to feel the heat on my body, but I didn’t. I peed, brushed my teeth, and tugged on my oversized zip-up, then started silently down the stairs.
Before I reached the kitchen, I could hear movement coming from within it. Dishes, silverware, the sound of the sink being turned on, footsteps. Enough sound to make me believe two people were moving around in there. Nervousness caused my stomach to turn. I envisioned Mason telling Micah what we’d done last night.
What if he’d already told him? What if I was walking into a trap?
I still didn’t know how they knew each other in the first place, and I got the sinking feeling that there was something vital I’d missed. It was almost impossible to keep my head straight around either of them—let alone both. Like I was juggling a thousand different fragmented pieces, struggling in vain to keep them all in my hands without dropping any.
I’ve already dropped some.
It was naive of me to think I could keep my head above water on my own. There were too many things for me to worry about, to be afraid of.
Trying to be quiet, I peered around the entrance to the kitchen—and my entire world tilted on its axis. The ground below me disappeared.
Mason and Micah were both standing at the counter facing away from me, both shirtless.
And Micah had the exact same fucking scars as Mason. Carved deep into his shoulders, slanting down towards his spine.
My stomach plummeted all the way to my feet.
I spun on my heel and darted back upstairs, my heart racing so hard I felt lightheaded. Somehow I’d never seen Micah’s bare back before now, and it was making me wonder if he’d done that on purpose. Only taking his shirt off when he could keep me in front of him, like when he’d tied me to his bed.
My mind was spinning, all my thoughts funneling away into sheer panic, unease curling through my nerves like poison.I’m trapped here completely alone, and I have no idea what is wrong with them. They’re so much stronger than me.
I almost tripped over my own feet as I flew around the corner of the bed, dropping to my knees and digging through my bag on the ground. My fingers trembled as I grabbed my knife and flicked it open. This was no longer a coincidence. This was a tangible wrongness about them both—something I couldseewith my eyes.
It was in those scars, and in their blood. Iknewthere was gold in Mason’s blood. He’d tried to convince me otherwise, but I knew what I saw. Now I would see if Micah had some too.
I pulled my sleeve down over the knife as I shuffled back downstairs, hardly breathing. Surely they’d heard my frantic dash upstairs. Surely they were expecting me to come back any moment. Surely they knew what I’d just seen.
Fingers tightening on my knife, I peered back into the kitchen, expecting the worst. My pulse was in my throat, making it even harder to breathe, pounding too hard, making me shaky.
I felt like I was going to throw up all over the floor.
Both of them were still facing away from me, and whether or not they knew I was standing here was unclear to me. It didn’t matter, though, because I didn’t have time to hesitate.
Lunging forward, I darted across the kitchen and I swung my arm out before I could second guess myself or even consider the consequences of what I was doing.
I slashed the blade over the back of Micah’s arm, gripping the handle as tight as I could so nobody would be able to pull it away from me, so nobody could hide the truth. Both Mason and Micah were staring at me now, both their expressions unreadable. Shaking, I took slow steps backwards.
Too late to go back now.
“Why the fuck did you just cut me?” Micah growled.
I held up the knife between us, the blade glinting with each tremor of my arm. Gold-threaded blood. In plain sight. Something that should’ve been completely, entirely impossible. Nothing felt real, like I’d fallen into an alternate universe, or I was trapped in a twisted nightmare.
I had no clue what the gold meant, but it was there, and no one could deny it.
“What is this?” I asked, still walking backwards.
“How did you know to cut me?” Micah questioned, his gray eyes boring into me.
