Micah Johnson Goes West (Get Out, #2)(41)

“I just hope you’re not expecting some big movie moment where he comes to his senses and begs forgiveness for everything he’s done,” Emma said.

“And then some teary reunion? You’re talking to me, remember.”

“I know. I just think it’ll be a waste of time, and you don’t have that right now as you have to be at Etihad in a couple of hours.”

“I can’t concentrate, Em. I’m going stir crazy. I need to do this.”

“And what if it fucks up your zone before the game?” she asked.

“My zone?” He couldn’t help but be amused.

“Yeah, smart arse. Your focus. Whatever. It could really throw you off if it goes badly.”

“My zone is already fucked. It couldn’t get worse.”

She snorted. “Never say never.”

“Aren’t we cynical this morning?”

“I feel like cynicism is earned at the moment.”

She sounded as tired as he did. “I know,” he said. “But maybe this will help.”

“If you say so.” She obviously wasn’t convinced. “I’ll pick you up in fifteen.”




MICAH PACKED his footy gear so Emma could drop him off in town for the game afterwards. She gave a wolf-whistle when she noticed, and he was pleased to see her looking a little more cheerful than she was the day before.

“You’re meant to whistle at me when I’m actually wearing my footy shorts,” he told her, throwing the bag onto the back seat.

“I’ve seen your hairy legs before,” Emma said. “I’m going by memory.”

“Thanks for coming with me,” he said as they drove off.

“No worries. I love lost causes. It’s why—”

“You’re my friend,” Micah finished for her.

“Wow, I’m becoming really obvious.”

“You always were,” he said, fondly.

Thankfully, she laughed.

The rest of the car trip was spent in silence, although not an uncomfortable one. They were both dreading the task that lay ahead. They had no way of knowing how Mr. Deanes would take to them appearing on his doorstep. Micah, especially, as he was the epitome of everything Will’s dad despised—not to mention he would probably think Micah partly responsible for his son’s conversion to the dark side and subsequent estrangement from him.

In all actuality, it was only a few minutes before they reached the Deanes house. Will had only lived on the other side of the same suburb as Micah. Micah had never been to his house, so was surprised at the size of it. With only Will and his dad living in it, it must have been a pretty isolating atmosphere. Even more so now Mr. Deanes was living alone within it.

“Wow,” Emma said. “I feel about a thousand times more nervous now.”

“A million,” Micah breathed.

“Is it wrong to hope he isn’t home?”

“He is,” Micah told her. “Or, at least, he was twenty minutes ago.”

“Do I want to know?”

“I rang his landline. He answered.”

“Then what did you do?”

“I hung up, of course!”

“It’s not going to take much for him to put two and two together, then.” Emma threw open her door. “Oh well. Let’s get this over and done with.”

Micah followed her up the small path leading to the front door. Emma knocked upon it briskly, as if she were a guest invited to a barbecue. Micah hoped they weren’t going to be the ones put upon the grill.

The door opened, and Micah was surprised at the man who appeared behind it. Mr. Deanes seemed to have aged five years in the months since he last saw him. That was probably due to the fact he was unshaven and dressed in clothes for downtime at home, but Micah also suspected there was more to it. He also wasn’t expecting Mr. Deanes to remember him as they had only met for about five minutes, but he had forgotten how visible he had become to the public in the time since.

“What do you want?” Deanes spat.

“I’m Micah—”

“I know who you are. I’m asking you what the hell you want?”

“No need to introduce myself, then,” Emma said, sotto voice.

“We’re here about Will.”

“What about him?”

“Well, he’s currently lying in a hospital bed with a broken back. I don’t know if you heard.” Micah’s last sentence was practically dripping with venom.

“I’ve heard.” And he looked like he didn’t care.

“Why haven’t you been to see him?” Emma asked. She must have thought the time for diplomacy was past. It hadn’t been a long wait.

“He made it clear he didn’t want to see me anymore when he left home.”

“Don’t you mean when you chucked him out?” Micah asked.

Deanes’s eyes narrowed as he stared at him. “He made his choice.”

“He probably wasn’t given much of one.”

“Are you his”—Deanes grimaced—“boyfriend?”

“No. I’m his friend.”

“You weren’t last year when he punched you out.”

“Things change.”