Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 54056 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 270(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54056 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 270(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
“Maybe she got tired of you.” Micah grins like the idea pleases him.
“Cut the shit, Rushing,” I snap, scowling at him. “Right now, I don’t really give a fuck if you’re pissed at me or not. Something is wrong. She wouldn’t just not answer her phone for this long. You know she wouldn’t.”
Micah’s smile slips, worry filtering through his expression. “Dammit,” he growls, fishing his phone from his pocket. He dials her number and then mutters a curse. “No service.”
I stab the button for the lobby, and the elevator jolts into motion. Neither of us says a word as it carries us down. I’m too fucking worried to talk. Wren would never ignore my calls unless something was wrong.
As soon as the elevator shudders to a stop, Micah and I step off. He immediately dials her number again. I hold my breath, praying she answers.
“Fuck,” he mutters when her phone goes straight to voicemail for him, too.
“Something is wrong.” I tug the strands of my hair, worry eating away at me. “Christ. I shouldn’t have left her. She promised she was okay after she talked to you, demanded that I go. I should have stayed anyway.”
Micah eyes me sideways. “You wanted to stay?”
“You made her cry,” I growl. “Of course I wanted to stay!”
“Shit,” he mumbles, genuine remorse filtering through his expression. There’s something else there too, but I don’t bother to read it. I don’t have the time or patience right now. This isn’t about him and our shit. It’s about his sister and the fact that she isn’t answering her phone.
I’m fucking worried, and so is he.
“Let’s head outside to meet everyone,” he says. “I’ll call Elodie, ask her to swing by and check on her.” He pauses. “I assume she’s at your place?”
“Yeah.”
Micah jerks his chin in a nod as we jog outside to wait for the van meant to take us to the presser. I drop onto a cement bench on wooden legs, my mind racing.
I’m a little surprised when Micah drops down beside me, murmuring quietly to Elodie. Judging by the looks Logan and Jordan shoot us as they file outside, they’re surprised to find us sitting together, too.
“She’s going to run by and check on her,” Micah murmurs, tucking his phone back into his pocket. “Did you two argue or something before you left?”
“No,” I growl. “Everything between us was perfect.” I shoot a hard glare at him. “The only goddamn thing she’s been upset about is you acting like an overbearing asshole.”
He has the grace to look regretful. At least momentarily. And then he grits his teeth. “Wouldn’t be an overbearing asshole if you weren’t fucking my sister behind my back and lying about it to my goddamn face, Graves.”
“I never touched your sister until Vegas.”
“Jesus Christ,” he mutters. “I fucking knew something was up with the two of you when we got home and you were falling all over yourself to take her home.”
“Then why’d you let me take her?”
“Because I trusted you to keep your hands to yourself.” His lips twist. “Joke’s on me, right?”
“I kept my hands off her for a fucking year, Micah. Right up until we got m–” I break off, biting my tongue.
“Until what?” he asks.
“Doesn’t matter.”
“Bullshit. What were you going to say? Right up until you got what? Don’t bitch out now.”
“Married,” I growl, staring at him. “Is that what you want to hear? That I fucking married her?”
“You’re lying,” he says, doubt written all over his face.
“No, I’m not. That’s the thing, Micah. I didn’t tell you everything, but I never fucking lied to you about her,” I say, my voice heated. “Before Vegas, I kept my mouth shut. I refused to say anything. I tried like hell to keep my distance so I didn’t feel like an asshole every time I looked at you, but I didn’t fucking lie to you.”
“You motherfucker,” he breathes half a second before he launches himself at me. We crash to the ground with him on top of me. “You fucking married her without telling me?”
“Goddammit, Micah,” I growl, trying to shove him off me.
He doesn’t move. He doesn’t hit me, either. He just keeps me pinned to the ground beneath him, his hands wrapped around my suit jacket like that’s the only thing keeping him from taking a swing.
“Fuck!” Jordan shouts before him and Logan come running, trying to haul him off me.
“Micah, man. Let him up,” Logan says, prying at his hands. “If Coach sees this shit, he’ll hand both of you your asses, and you know it.”
“He’s right,” Jordan adds, hooking an arm around his waist. “Get the fuck off of him, Micah. You don’t want to go down this road.”
Micah doesn’t even budge. “You fucking married her. When, you asshole?”
I know damn well that he’s going to hit me when I answer that question. But I answer it anyway. Like I told him, I don’t lie to him. Not even when I probably should. “Vegas.”