Daphne
It’s about nine and I’ve just dressed and slipped my Vans on my feet. The hot tub had felt really good on my sore body, and the things Micah had done to me with his lips, fingers, and cock had been even better. I’ll go back home tonight secure in the fact that I’m in a real relationship with Micah Robertson. No more funny business will come between us. Micah said if I ever think something is up, I can cut his balls off and keep them in my pocket. Kinda grossed me out when he’d said it, but he’s emphatic that I’m his and his alone. In fact, his exact words had been, “You own this dick.” Still makes me laugh to think about it. He’d had such a serious look on his face.
“Micah!” a deep voice shouts from somewhere downstairs.
My eyes widen. “Is that your dad?”
Micah nods then blows out a harsh breath. Raising his voice, he replies, “Yeah, Dad. I’m in my room.”
“Get your ass down here.”
He shakes his head. “Sorry. I had no idea he’d be coming home or what this is about.” He holds out his hand to me. “Come on.”
As we head downstairs, I remember how upset Micah had been last week when his parents were called in because of the fight with Shayne and Carter in the locker room. They’d been angry he’d gotten violent, while he’d been upset they couldn’t see he was defending me. Nothing he’s told me about his parents makes me want to meet these people. As Beau had so succinctly told me, they aren’t good people. I’m nervous, but I guess I don’t have much of a choice, though, seeing as how I’m in their home.
As we emerge from upstairs, I feel the weight of the Robertsons’ heavy stare on me. I bite down on the inside of my cheek, not sure at all how this is going to go.
“Is this her?” His dad glances at me, the dismissal clear when he shifts his gaze to his son.
“I’m not sure who you’re referring to, but this is Daphne Davis, my girlfriend.”
“Don’t be smart with your father.” His mom crosses her arms in front of her, eyeing me up and down. I get the very distinct impression she doesn’t approve. Not at all.
His dad growls, “So, let me get this straight. You and your girlfriend decided to make a sex tape and send it around for all to see?”
I flinch and move closer to Micah’s side. He drops my hand to extend his arm around my back.
His father’s face is a mottled red color as he hisses, “Is there no fucking limit to what you’ll do to embarrass this family?”
“Levi, calm down.” Micah’s mother doesn’t seem surprised by her husband’s ranting in the slightest, which tells me a lot.
“I won’t, Abigail. Rumors are flying everywhere and apparently this video is available for everyone and their fucking grandmother to view! You want our attention, son? You’ve fucking got it.”
Oh, shit.Peeking up at Micah, I notice his jaw is like stone and he appears to be grinding his teeth. His chest rises and falls dramatically with each breath. It’s clear to me he’s making every attempt to avoid completely losing it on them. I put my hand against the center of his back and rub a small circle before fisting my hand in his shirt. I’m right here, Micah. I’m here for you.
He glances down at the floor in front of us for a few seconds before his head snaps up and his eyes bore into his dad’s first, then his mom’s. “You know what’s really sad? I’ve been trying to get your attention for years. Anything and everything to make you see me. I’ve almost flunked out, came close to being kicked off the football team. I throw a rager of a party nearly every other weekend. I’ve gone through more bottles of alcohol throwing those parties than you can imagine. I’ve busted up your home time and again, only you have no idea because Melody takes care of things before you ever show up.” Micah draws in a steadying breath as he stares his parents down. “You think a blackmail video that was recorded without our knowledge or consent and then leaked out of sheer malice is embarrassing? Try having parents like you.”
I’m seriously hoping that’s the end of the discussion, but it’s not. Nope. Not by a long shot.
“You don’t even realize how good you have it, kid.” Levi flings his arm around. “You have this whole fucking house to yourself. You have a crazy expensive car. We let you do whatever the fuck you want. And you’re going to talk to us like this? Well, guess what, son? You’re almost eighteen. And the second you are, you are out of this fucking house, you ungrateful shit. I’m done.”
I may have forgotten how to breathe in those seconds immediately following his father’s tirade.
Micah’s gaze narrows. “No. You know what? I’m done now. I’ll go pack.” He takes my hand, retreating back up the stairs.
Neither of us says much as he throws a couple of big duffel bags on the bed. Emptying one drawer after another, he grabs as much as he can, including uniforms for school and football gear. He ducks into the bathroom and comes back out with a small toiletry kit that he tucks into one of the bags before zipping everything up. “I’ll come back for the rest of my stuff some other time,” he mutters. “Can you carry my backpack?”
“Yes. Of course.”
He hands it off to me, then picks up both duffels, and we exit his room. He ushers me past his parents, who still stand in the foyer, and yanks open the door. We stumble outside and down the steps, both of us breathing hard.
We come to a stop outside the garage, where he opens the middle bay. Micah fishes in his pocket for his keys as he guides me to the passenger side and opens the door for me. I climb in quickly and he shuts the door behind me. My heart pounds like someone is beating a drum behind my rib cage.
Micah flings open the driver’s side door and folds himself into the seat, pushes the button to start it, shifts into reverse, and hits the gas. “We’re out of here.”
I suck my lips into my mouth for a second and side-eye Micah, trying to assess his mental state.
Not good.He has a death grip on the steering wheel; it’s the only sign he’s upset. Otherwise, he’s void of emotion.