Page 186 of What We Bury

“No.” Gentle. Final. “This is what I wanted.”

I tilt my head up to look at him. In the blue-gray dark, his face is softer than I’ve ever seen it. The hard line of his jaw has eased. His eyes, usually so flat and watchful, are warm. Not open, exactly—Knox will never be an open book—but the cover is cracked, just a little, just for me.

“This?” I whisper. “Sitting on a couch at three a.m. with a half-naked woman having a feelings crisis in your lap?”

“This,” he confirms. And his arms tighten around me, just slightly, like punctuation on a sentence he’ll never say out loud.

I close my eyes.

I should go back to bed. Milo will wake up and wonder where I went. Holden will surface from whatever efficient REM cyclehe runs and notice my absence. Amy could finally decide to come home and walk in to find me wrapped around this man who keeps pulling himself back from me, while two more sleep naked down the hall.

But I don’t want to move. Not now. Maybe not for a long time.

So I stay.

FIFTY-ONE

MILO

For approximately two seconds, my sleep-fogged brain supplies a pleasant montage of last night—Sage’s mouth, Sage’s sounds, Sage’s body arching beneath me as I plowed into her—and I smile into the pillow like an idiot.

Then I register that the arm around my waist is too heavy, the chest behind me is too broad, and the erection currently nestled against my left butt cheek belongs to someone who is decidedly not a five-foot-four waitress with glorious tits and freckles on her nose.

“Why, Holden,” I say, keeping my voice breathy and soft. “I had no idea you felt this way about me.”

The arm around my waist goes rigid.

“I’m flattered, truly. I mean, I always kind of thought there was a vibe between us, but I didn’t want to make it weird because of the whole murder-buddies thing?—”

Holden is awake. I know this because his hand clamps over my mouth, and his voice comes out in a low, murderous rasp directly behind my ear.

“If you finish that sentence, I will end you.”

I lick his palm.

He yanks his hand back with a disgusted sound and shoves me so hard I nearly roll off the bed. I catch myself on the edge, cackling, and twist around to face him. Holden is sitting up now, jaw clenched, yanking his jeans on. His hair is wrecked. There’s a crease on his cheek from the pillowcase. He looks like an angry Calvin Klein model who just woke up in the wrong photoshoot.

“Relax, big guy. Morning wood is a perfectly natural physiological response. Happens to the best of us. Well, not me. Mine’s always intentional.”

“I’m going to kill you.”

“You keep saying that and yet here I am. Alive. Thriving. Freshly spooned.” I stretch, vertebrae popping like bubble wrap, and grin at him. “Also, for the record—I’m not into dudes. So your virtue will remain intact. But if you ever did want to explore that whole situation, I might consider it. Simply because you’re hot and I like your tattoos. But I also think you and Micah would be really great together. He’s very gentle. Very patient. He’s got those soft hands.”

Holden finishes buttoning his jeans and stares at me like I just suggested he eat glass.

“Wait. Eli might not like you moving in on Micah—even though they’re currently in an ‘off’ period. Dude. Don’t even get me started on those two. The will-they-won’t-they is killing me. They’vebeenthere, they keep going back, and nobody will just commit to the bit. I have feelings about it. I’ve considered staging an intervention. I ship those two hard but they just keep dancing around it.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“So many things. We’d be here all day.” I swing my legs off the bed. “But seriously, this is a safe space. I support all configurations. You, Micah, Eli—honestly, any combinationinvolving Micah, because that man deserves love and I will fight anyone who?—”

“Milo. Where is Sage?”

Right. Sage. I look at the empty space between us where she should be. No Sage.

“She probably got up for water or something. Chill. We could snuggle some more if that’ll make you feel better.”

Holden does not chill. And he doesn’t take me up on that snuggle. I’m pretty sure Holden came out of the womb doing a perimeter sweep. He’s already up, tugging on his shirt with the efficient, joyless movements of a man who treats getting dressed like a tactical operation.