Page 118 of What We Bury

“Relax.” I stand, brushing crumbs off my shirt. “I’ve got this.”

“Milo. No!”

I’m already at the door, pulling it open with my best hey-buddy-old-pal smile.

The girl on the other side—blonde, petite, confused—blinks at me. Behind her, a guy who looks like he spends too much time thinking about his hair is scowling at his keys.

“Hey!” I say, bright and warm. “You must be Amy. I’ve heard so much about you.”

Amy stares at me. Then past me, at Sage. “Who . . .?”

“Milo.” I stick out my hand. “Old friend of Sage’s. We go way back. Like,wayback. Summer camp. Lots of trust falls and friendship bracelets.”

Sage makes a sound behind me that might be a laugh or might be a sob of despair. Hard to tell.

Amy shakes my hand slowly, still looking bewildered. “Sage never mentioned . . .”

“Oh, you know Sage. Woman of mystery. Keeps her cards close.” I step back, gesturing them inside. “Come in, come in. I made pasta. There’s plenty if you want some.”

The boyfriend—Tyler, I remember him from the file—shoulders past Amy, sizing me up with the kind of look that says he’s already decided I’m guilty of something. And that’s cool, because I already hate him. He’s a rapist’s best friend. In my book, that’s grounds for a hanging . . .

“What the fuck, Sage?” He crosses his arms. “Is this the guy you dumped Brock for?”

The question lands like a grenade. Amy winces. Sage goes rigid.

I, however, am a professional and push my rage and disdain down lower.

Later.

“I’m definitely the guy she dumped Brock for,” I say smoothly, sliding an arm around Sage’s shoulders. “We’ve had a thing for years. On and off since high school. Then all through our college days. I was never ready to settle down, though. Commitment issues. You know how it is.” I shrug with what I hope is charming self-deprecation. “But now I am. Ready, I mean. So here I am. Settling down. And going down, if you know what I mean.”

Sage is vibrating under my arm. I can’t tell if she wants to kill me or kiss me. Or if she’s just really excited about settling down with me.

Amy frowns. “I thought you said you didn’t go to college, Sage.”

Shit.

“She didn’t,” I say quickly. “I went to college. She visited. A lot. Like, constantly. Couldn’t stay away from me. It was very?—”

“Hang on.” Tyler’s eyes narrow. “Don’t you work at the hardware store? Dude, didn’t you go to my high school?”

Double shit.

The silence stretches. Amy’s looking between me and Sage like she’s watching a tennis match. Tyler’s got that gotcha expression that makes me want to superglue his loafers to the floor.

I consider my options. Double down? Pivot? Elaborate backstory involving witness protection?

Fuck it.

“You’re right,” I say, dropping my arm from Sage’s shoulders and holding up my hands in surrender. “I have no idea who Brock is. I don’t even really know Sage. We met a few days ago.” I flash my most disarming grin. “But the pasta is real. You want some?”

Tyler stares at me.

Amy stares at me.

Sage looks like she’s calculating how to turn me into a human pincushion since I know she likes getting stabby.

My adorable little murder kitten.