It was him. Why didn’t he tell me?

Why would he? People like to put the dark days of their lives behind them, not talk about them. And today he was trying to tell me something over coffee…

“Blake.” I try to make my voice strong. “You can’t hurt Micah.”

“Can’t I?” He winks.

I feel sick. “I didn’t remember him from before. I didn’t know, and he didn’t know he shouldn’t be talking to me, either. Blake—”

“No, enough. Shut your fucking mouth.” He’s suddenly pushing me back, and I fall into the sofa, my breath knocked out of me. “This is all your fault. Fuck knows I tried to stop you from wandering around the town and talking to trash. My girlfriend isn’t talking to low-lives and that’s that.”

“I’m not your girlfriend, and keep your hands off me.” Then the meaning of his words hits me like a punch to the chest. “Tried… Tried to stop me? What do you mean?”

He shrugs, his mouth twisting. “I followed you on my bike all those months ago. I thought I’d scare you so you’d stop. But you’re a clumsy little bitch, so you fell, and you broke your leg, and I thought, even better. More time for you to be away from the streets and stop obsessing about every single homeless person. But no, you don’t give up, do you? You just don’t give the fuck up!”

I’m gasping for breath, horror making me light-headed. He did this. He hit me with his bike, and as I lay there unconscious, my leg broken, he called 9-1-1 and played the role of the savior. He slept with me, kissed me and pretended to care. All that and now he’s leaning over me, gloating, cornering me.

I think I’m going to puke.

Instead, I scramble sideways to get away from him. He laughs again and catches me as I reach the end of the sofa.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asks, a hand gripping my wrist, leaving bruises.

“Take your fucking hands off her,” another male voice says from behind us, and I see Blake’s face go still.

He releases me, and I twist to look at Joel, who is standing at his bedroom door in his PJs, his hands curled into fists.

Oh thank God. “I thought you were out,” I breathe, a sob caught in my throat.

“I was asleep. Missed practice because I wasn’t feeling too hot. Then I heard the voices. And then I heard Blake here confess he was behind the so-called accident.” Joel pushes off the doorframe and strides toward Blake who takes a step back. “You hurt my sister. And pretended to care for her. You stalked her, and hurt a guy on purpose.”

“You have no proof,” Blake bites out.

“Don’t I?” Joel lifts his cell phone. “I filmed every second of it.”

I want to grab Joel and plant sloppy kisses on his cheeks.

Then I remember what he said before confessing about the accident.

“You won’t touch Micah,” I say and jab a finger at Blake. “You wouldn’t dare.”

Blake sneers, and my stomach takes another nosedive. “Too late for Micah.”

My stomach drops again. “What do you mean?”

“I sicced Alex on him. Told you not to hang around such men, Evie.” He clucks his tongue.

Oh no. I stand frozen, my muscles locked.

Joel’s face darkens with anger. He pulls his fist back and punches Blake in the face. Blood sprays. He broke Blake’s nose.

Good.

“Call the police,” Joel says. “Now, Evie.”

I nod, my eyes burning. “Yes. Okay. Then I’m going to find Micah.”

“Evie, stay here!” Joel is holding Blake by one arm, making sure he isn’t going anywhere.

Grabbing my jacket and cell phone, I head out. On the stairs down, I make a call to the police, directing them to the apartment, and then call Micah’s new cell. I call and call, but get no answer.

Dammit. I call a taxi and jump inside when it arrives a few minutes later. I keep calling Micah, refusing to read anything into his lack of response.

I need to find him, need to make sure he’s okay. Nothing else matters.

***

Damage Control is closed and dark. So I climb back into the cab and head for his apartment. I ring all the bells until someone lets me into the building, but when I go up, nobody answers the door at his apartment. I bang on it a few times, but I know it’s useless. He’s not here.

The reality of the situation hits me hard. Blake is seriously disturbed. He hurt Seth, and he said he hurt Micah.

I bend over, swallowing down nausea. Crap. Micah is lying somewhere, hurt, and I don’t even have the number of any of his friends to call.

Slowly I straighten. Think, Ev.

We were supposed to meet here, at his apartment, right after he finished work. If he was jumped, it must be on the way here. So what I need to do is walk back toward Damage Control and find him.

I hurry down the street, trying to orientate myself as cars roll by, headlights flashing. Cold rain is falling, the drops stinging my face like needles. Fear pumps my blood faster through my veins, lifting the exhaustion off me. What a day from hell.

I start to run. My knee sends warning twinges up my leg, but I ignore them as I turn the corner and start up another street, gauging it’s more or less in the right direction. Running helps me focus and keeps the tears at bay.

No time for crying now.

“Micah!” I yell as I run. “Micah, where are you?”

I don’t see him until I’m almost on top of him. He’s half-hidden in shadows, sitting on the sidewalk, legs stretched out, his back to the façade of a building.

I drop to my knees, but I have no voice to talk. I bend over, panting harshly, and look into his face.

His eyes are half-open, blue peeking through. “Ev?” he mumbles.

“How badly are you hurt?” His face is bruised, his upper lip split. Blood coats his chin and neck. “Shit.”

“I’m okay,” he says.

“Yeah? Is that why you’re sitting on the sidewalk on the frigging street? I—” My voice breaks and I swallow hard. Tears roll down my cheeks, mingling with the rain.

He gives me a crooked grin. “I’m just taking a breather.”

“A breather.” I laugh through the tears. “Holy crap, Micah.” I fumble for my cell. “I’m calling an ambulance.”

“No.” He puts his hand over mine. His knuckles are bleeding. “I’ll be fine.”

“Fine. Why you don’t answer your cell?”

“Broke it. New record.” He looks morose for a moment. “Will you just help me up?”

I nod, and the tears keep slipping down my cheeks. “I did this. Because of me, both you and Seth were hurt. I can’t—”

“You saved my life.” He strokes my wet cheek. “Then and now again.”

“It was you,” I say, because I want to hear it from him. “Back then, months ago. The guy with pneumonia.”

“Legionnaires’ Disease. An infection I got from the last facility. If not for you, I’d surely be dead by now.”

“But you still have a cough. Are you still sick?”

“It’s just an after effect. It will go away eventually.”

“It was you.” I shake my head. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You were afraid of Seth, and I thought you’d be afraid of me, too.” He shifts and winces. “Didn’t want that to happen.”

“I’m not afraid of you.” I manage a shaky smile. “I love you. I’m so glad I didn’t lose you.”

He blinks at me, and I look away in a hurry. Oh God. I didn’t just say I loved him.

I did.

“Can we call someone to come pick us up?” I pull out my cell.

“I can walk.” He’s struggling to get up, a hand propped on the wall, his face scrunched up, lips white with pain.

“Micah, please.”

He sighs. “Rafe. Call him.” He rattles off a number, and I call.

Five minutes later, a black Mustang stops where we are, and Rafe steps out. The rain plasters his blond mane to his head and face. He peers at us through soaked bangs.

“You kids need to stop getting into trouble,” he grumbles, and it’s kinda funny because he seems to be our age. He crouches at Micah’s other side.

“Hey, Rafe,” Micah mutters. “Thanks for coming, man.”