Page 57 of Robbin’ the Rich

Micah leaned toward me slightly. "Do you give everyone you know strange nicknames?"

"Only the strange ones."

Ariel dropped onto a nearby hay bale. "That's the nicest thing you've ever said to me."

"It wasn't meant as a compliment."

"I choose to receive it as one."

The conversation drifted naturally for a few minutes before something occurred to me.

"How's Lantern House?"

The question had been sitting in the back of my mind ever since I'd started redirecting Ascension's money. In a weird way I wanted to know the money was actually helping.

Ariel tucked her legs beneath herself on the hay bale. "It's good." Something warm flickered in her expression. "Actually... better than good."

I tried to keep my face neutral. "Yeah?"

She nodded. "Maggie was freaking out for a while because funding was getting really tight. A couple of people thought they might have to start lowering the number of beds."

My stomach tightened. I hadn't realized it had gotten that bad.

Then Ariel smiled. "But some donation came through recently."

I took a careful sip of cider. "Oh?"

"Yeah." She shrugged. "Nobody’s sure where it came from."

If only you knew.

"It was enough that they could keep some people longer." Her smile grew wider. "Me included."

For a second, the noise of the bonfire faded.

"Really?" I asked.

Ariel nodded. "I was supposed to start looking for somewhere else soon, but now they're letting me stay another month while I get things figured out."

The relief in her voice was unmistakable. It was a relief that came from finally being able to breathe. This all made it worth it. It was worth every risk.

Ariel took another drink of cider. "I don't know who donated it," she continued, "but honestly? Whoever they are, they're kind of amazing."

I looked toward the fire quickly before anyone could see the smile threatening at the corners of my mouth.

Beside me, Micah shifted slightly closer. The movement pulled me back into the moment. And for one perfect second, everything felt exactly the way it should.

12

MICAH

If someone had told me three months ago that I'd be spending a Friday night at a pumpkin patch with Robin, I would've assumed they'd suffered a head injury.

The entire thing felt slightly surreal. Even more surreal was the fact that Robin's hand was currently tucked into mine. The walk back toward the parking lot unfolded at a leisurely pace as the crowd slowly filtered toward their cars. The air grew colder now that the sun was gone, and distant laughter drifted across the fields behind us.

Robin's hand remained comfortably linked with mine. Every few steps her shoulder brushed mine. Neither of us seemed inclined to let go.

I glanced over at her.