But I refuse to let it end like this. I need to act, work for my happiness. With trembling fingers I text Micah.

‘Miss you.’ There. Short and sweet.

And he never replies.

I swallow past the thickness in my throat. Not you too, Micah. Not today. Please don’t decide to leave me today.

‘I need to talk to you.’ I send the message off and wait.

He doesn’t text back.

“What’s going on? Is it Micah?” Cassie asks.

I don’t answer. Maybe he just didn’t see my text. So I call him.

His phone rings and rings until it goes to voicemail. Bowing my head, I push the cell back into my pants pocket.

There must be an explanation. Maybe he left home and forgot his cell. Maybe his battery ran out. Maybe he’s busy with something, and he’ll call me back later.

Time passes. Cassie sends me concerned looks as I bang the shoes on their stands and rip the tape off boxes with unnecessary force. I don’t want to talk about it. Don’t want to see the pity in her eyes.

Before I leave work in the afternoon, she approaches me and slips a piece of paper into my hand. “This is Kayla’s number, the friend I told you about who’s looking for a roommate. Give her a call, she’s really nice.”

“Thanks.” I do my best to smile, and Cassie smiles back.

“If there’s anything you need…”

I nod. “I know. Thank you.”

Micah told me the same when we first met. Did he mean it?

***

My way to Joel’s apartment doesn’t take me past the donut shop and Damage Control, but I deviate. Somehow my feet take me down my usual path, and I find myself standing across from the tattoo shop. I don’t know why I thought I’d find Micah standing outside like I did almost every day in the past weeks.

After a small hesitation, I cross the street and push on the door.

It’s locked. The shop is closed.

Frowning, I take a step back, a bad feeling knotting up my stomach. What’s going on? It’s just a weekday like any other. I call Micah’s number again, and again, he doesn’t answer.

The bad feeling intensifies.

Movement inside the shop catches my eye, and I step to the glass door once more. I rap on it with my knuckles and press my face to the pane to see.

Two guys are sitting in the reception area of the store, in those ugly orange armchairs I noticed the one time I went in. One of them has short spiky hair and the other is blond with long purple bangs falling in his eyes. He’s saying something, shaking a fist in the air, when he notices me and narrows his eyes. He shakes his head at me and gestures that the shop is closed.

I rap harder on the door, rattling it. When that doesn’t work, I fish into my bag for pen and paper, write Micah’s name in big bold letters and press it to the glass, then rap again.

Come on, guys.

This time the man’s brows lift, and he comes to open the door. “Micah isn’t here,” he says without preamble. The other guy is staring at me from his perch on the orange chair.

“Where is he? He didn’t answer his phone all day.”

“And who are you?” He gives me a suspicious look.

“I’m Evangeline. And I…” What? I’m not his girlfriend, or even his friend. “I’m worried about him. Is he okay?”

“He’s fine. He’s…” He glances back, exchanges a long look with the other guy. “He’s at the hospital.”

“What? You just said he’s fine.” My heart is banging in my chest, trying to break through my ribs. That cough… I knew it wasn’t good. “Is he sick?”

“Hey, calm down.” The other guy approaches us, hands held out. “I’m Asher. I heard about you.”

The guy whose mother I’m going to meet—but who cares right now? I want to shake him until he tells me what’s wrong with Micah.

“Micah’s okay,” Asher goes on. “He’s only visiting. It’s Seth the one who’s in trouble.”

“What happened?” I lean on the door frame, my legs wobbly. Even though they say Micah’s okay, I need to see it for myself. “Where is he?”

“Seth was jumped this morning when he stepped out for coffee. He was dragged into an alley and beaten to hell.” Asher’s mouth twists in a grimace. “He’s in the ER. He’s conscious, and doctors say he’ll pull through just fine.”

Ice spreads inside me. “Jumped? Who jumped him?”

Asher shrugs. “He didn’t get a good look at their faces. Two guys, he says. Assholes wore masks. Didn’t steal his money or anything. Somehow they just wanted to beat the shit out of him.”

Blake? Is it him or just a coincidence? Doubt, doubt. “Did they tell him anything?”

“You sound like you know something,” the guy with the long bangs mutters. “If you do…”

I shake my head. “Which hospital?”

“The university hospital. He was in the ER, but it seems he won’t be needing surgery, so he’s being transferred to a ward.”

“Thanks.” I’m already turning away. “I’m on my way there.”

Chapter Eleven

Micah

I sit at the hospital cafeteria, an empty plastic cup at my elbow, and the remains of my cell phone spread in front of me. This cell is done for. I was hoping it was just the casing that broke, but no, it’s been literally smashed to bits, and it doesn’t look like it’s going to come back to life any time soon.

Fuck. Like I need more shit dumped on me. Ev’s number is in there, and I can’t get hold of it. It’s killing me. Everything’s killing me today.

Goddammit, Seth. My hands shake, and I shove them through my hair. Can’t believe how god-awful he looked, white as a sheet, face and body bruised and bleeding. Can’t believe this happened. I thought this crap was over. I thought the violence was gone from my life. Now all I see flashing through my mind is images from the past, bloodied faces, sneering mouths, raised fists.

Stop it. I tug on my hair to stop the obsessive thinking. This is life. You’re never safe. It’s never over. Get over it.

Hell, I want to punch something. I need to move. I push my chair back and lean on the table to stand.

Someone is walking toward me, a small, slight figure. I blink dazedly.

“Ev?” I whisper.

Without a word, she comes to me and tilts her face up. Fear and concern darken her gaze.

She’s here. I grab her in my arms, wrap myself around her, inhale her scent and the howl that threatens to tear up my throat emerges as a moan. “Ev.”

Slender arms curl around me. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” I have to clear my throat. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

“And Seth?”

“He’s beaten to hell, but he’ll survive.” Saying the words out loud makes them more real, and I sag against her. “He’ll survive.”

“Your phone,” she says, pulling away and glancing at the table. “What happened?”

I drag her back to me. Can’t bear to be away another second. “I threw it against the wall. The wall won.”

She snorts and lets me hold her. Her hands trace soothing circles on my back, and my heart finally stops its mad pounding.

“Micah…” Her hesitant voice makes me look at her, really look. The fear is still there. Why?

“Tell me. What is it?”

“Did Seth say anything else about his attackers?”

“No. What is it, Ev?”

“Nothing. I…” She takes a step back. “I just wanted to check on you. But you’re fine, so I’ll just go now.”

A buzzing starts inside my head. “You need to go back home?”

She shakes her head.

“Don’t you want to see Seth?”

“No. Not a good idea.”

“Why?”

“Because. I shouldn’t have talked to him in the first place.”

Again this? Ice grips my spine. It’s anger, I realize. Stone-cold anger, the worst kind. “Why the hell not?”

She flinches but stays her ground. “He was on the streets, and I shouldn’t—”

“Tell me right now, what’s wrong with people who’ve been homeless? You think you’re better than them?”

She takes several steps back, her face paling. “Please, don’t do this,” she whispers.