Even ruined, it was infinitely better than the hospital had been, and she couldn’t spend any more time there without losing her mind.
With the threat that hung over her, the bounty on her head, there was no way Prey was going to let her go home rather than stay at one of their apartments without amping up security untilit was almost crazy high. There were Prey operatives watching the building, and cameras set up everywhere in her apartment and the hall outside. Nobody was getting inside without Prey knowing and reacting.
Since there was no way the traffickers would be able to get past Prey, she felt safe enough there, and as much as it absolutely pained her to admit it, having Micah there helped as well.
While he might blame himself for them getting kidnapped, she did not blame him. Not for that, she did blame him for ruining the good thing they’d had going when they were kids, but this one was not his fault. Because of the bounty on her head, any number of mercenaries, gangs, or any other criminal out to make a quick dollar would try to take a go at her if they saw her. Some of them, like the ones who had taken her and Micah, were creative enough that they wouldn't see the attack coming before it was too late. Which was precisely what had happened in the car with the knockout gas.
“You need to rest,” Micah announced as he locked up behind them.
Someone had obviously increased the number of locks on the door as well, because there never used to be four locks. In fact, the whole door looked new, and she would bet anything it was now a reinforced steel door rather than the regular wooden door that used to be there.
It made her feel all warm and fuzzy to know that she had people in her life looking out for her. After her dad died, her mom had remained the loving, supportive parent she’d always been, but the burden of raising three kids alone, one of whom was disabled, was a tough one, and she hadn't been able to be as involved as she used to be.
When Teresa had stepped up to fill in that role, she no longer had anyone looking out for her the same way she used tobecause her mom started to see her as the second parent. Their relationship had forever changed. She’d gotten used to being the one to look out for others and herself when she had any energy left.
No one had ever stepped in to fill that void until Micah.
Accustomed to taking care of herself, she never expected her friends or the Prey family to take on that role. But seeing they had stepped-up, beefed-up security there rather than forcing her to be somewhere she didn't feel comfortable, and taken precautions she wouldn't have thought of herself, made her feel cared about and important.
Her mom had never made her feel uncared about or unimportant, she was overwhelmed, it was no wonder there had been nothing left for her to give Teresa.
“A new couch?” she asked, as she eyed the beige one in the corner. It was similar to what had been there before, but she knew it had to be new because it didn't have red paint on it.
“Was as close to what you had before as I could find to get delivered at short notice,” Micah replied.
“You did this?” That caught her by surprise. She knew Micah had said he intended to be there for her, support her, look after her, protect her, but she hadn't realized he’d gone to this extent.
“You wanted to stay here,” he said simply. “There’s new bedroom furniture as well, and a new kitchen table. I tried to get everything as close to what you had as I could, while still getting it here quickly. I don’t know what your plans are for the future, but I know for now you need to be here, so I wanted it to feel as much like home as it could.”
That was so thoughtful, and she didn't quite know how to process it.
“Thank you.” It didn't seem like enough to say when he’d gone out of his way to organize all this for her in the last twenty-four or so hours, especially when he’d been kidnapped alongwith her and had every right to be recuperating from that ordeal rather than worrying about getting her new furniture.
Despite her feeling like the words weren't enough, Micah beamed at her praise.
“You don’t have to keep them indefinitely if you want to choose your own things, but at least you have something to use for now.”
“No.” The word burst out without conscious thought. An automatic reaction to the idea that she would ever get rid of such a thoughtful gift. “No,” she repeated, calmer this time, not quite ready for Micah to know how much she appreciated his thoughtfulness. After all, she honestly could not see a future for the two of them, and she didn't want to give him the wrong idea. “No need to get rid of perfectly good furniture.”
If he saw through her flimsy attempt to pretend she wasn't deeply moved by the gift, he didn't say anything. Just placed his large hand in the small of her back and guided her toward the couch.
The wound in her stomach hurt with each step she took, but his touch infused her body with warmth, and although she tried to cut the feeling off, it persisted until she reached the couch and sank down onto it, tucking her feet up beneath her.
Micah looked pleased to see her on the couch that he’d chosen for her, and he was smiling as he turned and headed for the kitchen. “I’ll make you some dinner.”
“Normally I cook.”
“I bet you do. You're great at cooking, and you're a natural caregiver. But today you don’t have anyone to take care of except yourself. Whatever I make won't be as good as you could do, but you need to rest and I'm here to take care of you.”
There didn't seem to be any point in arguing, it was pretty clear that Micah had already made up his mind, and if she wasbeing honest with herself, it felt too nice to be the one who was being taken care of for a change.
So she stayed right where she was and let her head fall back to rest against the buttery soft leather. As her eyes fell closed, she listened to the bustling sounds from the other room. She had no idea what he was cooking, and it didn't really matter. He was a reasonable enough cook, and she wasn't all that hungry anyway, mostly eating because she knew her body needed the fuel.
“Here, I don’t want you getting cold.”
When she opened her eyes again, Micah was standing there holding a blanket in his hands. It was new, she knew that because even before her place had been trashed, she hadn't owned one like it. But it was a pretty shade of yellow, and looked delectably soft, so she didn't make a protest as he tucked it around her, fussing about like a mother hen to make sure it covered her properly.
He'd always been like that, even as a teenager.
