Chapter 46 The One Thing I Won't Share
Dante POV
Micah doesn’t notice it but Max does. The way Micah’s breath shudders when I walk past him. The way his eyes drop, then lift, then drop again. The way he leans toward me without even meaning to, like his body is trying to talk before his mouth can. Max is smart enough to see something is wrong. But he’s not smart enough to step back. Not anymore.
Micah catches up to me after practice, still flushed from drills. His curls cling to his forehead, damp from sweat, and his shirt sticks to his back in a way that makes it impossible for me to look anywhere else. “Dante,” he says quietly, like he’s saying a confession.
I stop walking immediately. I don’t even mean to. He has that effect now pulling at me without touching me. “What?” I ask. It comes out sharper than I intended.
He swallows. “Max is acting weird. And Alison keeps staring at me. And the coaches are asking...” “Stop.” My voice slices across his panic, and he freezes. I step closer. I shouldn’t. I do anyway. “Did any of them touch you?” I ask. “Say something to you? Corner you?” He blinks fast. “No, I just..” “Then why,” I interrupt, “are you here? With me?”
Micah’s lips part like he hasn’t thought about that until now. His fingers twitch at his sides, like he wants to reach for me but won’t unless I tell him to. “I… didn’t know who else to go to,” he whispers.
There it is. The admission. The hook sliding deeper. I touch his chin with one finger, lifting it just slightly. “You came to me,” I say softly. “Not Max.” Micah’s breath shutters. “Yeah,” he whispers. “I did.”
I don’t kiss him. I don’t have to. The air already feels like it’s leaning into us.
But then.. “Micah!” Max’s voice cracks down the hallway like a hammer. Micah jumps so hard he almost trips over his own feet. I step back, slow and precise, but the claim in me doesn’t move. Not one inch.
Max storms up with fire in his eyes and fear under it. “What the hell is going on?” he demands. “You keep disappearing with him.” Micah stiffens beside me, torn and guilty. Max sees it. And for the first time, he doesn’t look angry— he looks scared.
“Micah,” Max says, grabbing his wrist, “he’s messing with your head. You’re not yourself.” Micah’s breath shakes. “Max, don’t—” “He isolates you. He talks to you alone. He—he controls you.” Max’s voice cracks. “Just tell me I’m wrong.”
Micah opens his mouth. But I answer first. “You are,” I say calmly. Max turns on me. “Shut up—” “I said,” I repeat, letting my voice lower, “you’re wrong.” Micah swallows hard. His pulse races so fast I can see it in his throat.
Max steps in front of him like he’s shielding him from a fire. “You think I don’t see it?” Max spits. “You hover around him like he’s what? Your possession? Your project? Your toy?” Behind him, Micah’s breath falters. That word again. Toy.
I watch him react to the confusion, the heat, the shame, the want. Max sees something in Micah’s face and his own expression cracks. “Micah,” he whispers, “tell me he’s not doing this to you.” Micah drops his eyes. And that silence answers for him.
Max snaps. “Back up,” he says to me, trembling with fury. “Right now.” I don’t move. Max shoves me. It barely rocks me, but Micah gasps like he’s the one who got pushed. “Don’t touch him.” Micah’s voice is barely there, but it’s enough. Max freezes.
I don’t smile. But something inside me does. “You see?” I murmur. “He doesn’t want you between us.” Max shakes his head like he’s trying to clear water out of his ears. “This isn’t him,” Max says. “He’s scared. He’s confused. You’ve twisted everything.”
I tilt my head. “If you were giving him what he needed, he wouldn’t be running to me.” Micah flinches. Max looks like I slapped him. “That’s not fair,” he breathes. “I’ve always been there for him.” “And yet,” I say quietly, “he chose me.”
Micah’s face floods with panic. “Dante, don’t.” But Max hears it anyway. The truth wrapped in the protest. “Jesus Christ,” Max whispers, stepping back. “You’re not even denying it anymore.” Alison appears at the end of the hall, slowing when she sees the tension. Her eyes flick from Max… to Micah… to me. She smiles. I file that away.
Max turns back to Micah, voice breaking. “Please. Just talk to me. Not him. Me. Micah, look at me.” Micah lifts his eyes. But they’re pointed in the wrong direction. At me. And Max sees it.
Something inside him caves in, loud enough I almost hear it. He releases Micah’s wrist like it burned him. “This isn’t over,” he says to me. “I’m not letting you do this.” “Yes,” I say softly. “You are.” Max storms off. Alison lingers long enough to smirk before vanishing around a corner.
Micah collapses against the lockers once they’re gone, breath shaking out of him. “Dante… what just happened?” I step close again, slow, measured, claiming back the space Max tried to take. “You came to me,” I say. “That’s what happened.”
He eyes flutter. “That’s not an answer.” I touch his hip not hard, not soft, just enough to remind him. “You think Max can protect you from this?” I whisper. “From people watching? From rumors? From what you feel when I get close?” He shivers, and I feel the tremor travel up through his ribs.
“That’s not fair,” he whispers again. “Neither is wanting someone you shouldn’t,” I murmur. “But you still do.” Micah goes still. Completely still. His breath catches. He looks up at me with something raw and scared and hungry. “Dante…” he breathes, “I don’t know what’s happening to me.”
I lean in, letting my mouth hover beside his ear but not touching. “You’re choosing,” I whisper. “That’s all.” He shivers so violently I feel it. “You’re shaking,” I murmur. “Again.” He squeezes his eyes shut like he’s trying to stop the reaction. I don’t let him.
“Look at me,” I say softly. He opens his eyes. Slow. Reluctant. Needy. There it is. The full truth. The thing he’s too scared to say out loud. He needs me. Not just wants. Needs. And Max saw it before Micah did.
“Dante…” Micah whispers, voice trembling. “What if they find out?” I slide my hand up his side, slow enough to make him gasp, gentle enough to make it worse. “Then they’ll know,” I say, “that you’re mine.” He flinches not away. Toward.
His fingers curl into my jacket like he’s drowning. “Dante…” he breathes. I pull back just enough to look him in the eye. “I won’t share you,” I say simply. His breath stutters. “But you don’t get to decide.” “I do,” I say quietly. “Because you already let me.”
Micah opens his mouth to argue, but a noise escapes instead small, desperate, almost a whimper. I don’t touch him again. I don’t have to. The hallway feels too small for what’s happening.
Micah grips my shirt like he’s terrified of the world and me at the same time. “I can’t lose everything,” he whispers. “What if they take the team? What if Max hates me? What if..” “Micah.” His words die instantly. “You’re thinking too much.” He swallows. “Then what am I supposed to do?”
I lean in again, voice low and steady. “Stay close,” I whisper. “Listen to me.” “And don’t run.” He shivers again. And I smile this time slow, careful, dangerous. Because he understands now. He’s already choosing. And Max, Alison, the whole team none of them matter. Not compared to the way Micah looks at me. Not compared to the way Micah obeys when I tell him, softly: “Micah… come with me.”
He nods. Not even hesitating.