Page 269 of What We Bury

He cups the back of my neck and pulls me in, pressing his mouth to mine—firm, warm, unhurried despite the fact that he’s got somewhere to be. When he pulls back, his thumb strokes the hinge of my jaw.

“I’ll be home by six. Call me if anything changes.”

“I will.”

He slips his jacket on, points at Micah. “Don’t let her skip lunch.” And then he’s heading out. The door swings behind him and seals itself shut.

“And then there were four,” Milo says. Then he spins my stool so I’m facing him and plants both hands on the bar on either side of me, caging me in. His face is close enough that I can see the gold flecks in his brown eyes and the tiny scar on his chin he’s never explained.

“You look pretty today, kitten.”

“I look like I woke up at five-thirty and put on whatever was closest to the bed.”

“Exactly. Pretty.” He dips his head and kisses my neck—just below my ear, light, the kind of contact that’s more promise than delivery. I shiver. His mouth curves against my skin. “I’ve missed having you to myself.”

“You had me to yourself yesterday. In the shower. For forty-five minutes.”

“That was pure necessity.”

“It was not.”

Micah snorts into his now-cold coffee. Knox makes a sound that might be a laugh or a grunt. It’s hard to tell.

Milo pulls back, grinning, and runs his fingers through my hair. “I’m serious though. This whole situation—the noose, thethreat, everyone on high alert—it’s making me crazy. And not the fun kind of crazy. The kind where I lie awake at night staring at the ceiling and thinking about every single thing that could go wrong.” His voice drops, the humor bleeding out. “I don’t do well with things I can’t fix, kitten. And right now I can’t fix this. It’s eating me alive.”

I reach up and touch his face. He leans into it immediately, eyes closing, and for a second the bravado falls away and I see what’s underneath—a man who covers fear with chaos and devotion with jokes. A man who’s currently running on fumes because the person he loves is in danger and the best he can do is bring donuts.

“We’re going to figure this out,” I say.

“I know.”

“And in the meantime, I’m safe. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

He opens his eyes. Looks at me with an intensity that doesn’t match the grin sliding back into place. “Damn right you’re not. I haven’t even shown you my best moves yet.”

“God help us all,” Micah mutters.

Milo flips him off without breaking eye contact with me, and I laugh. Milo’s face lights up like he just won something, and he kisses me again, long and slow.

“That’s what I needed,” he says softly. “That laugh. Keep doing that.”

I intend to. I intend to laugh and eat donuts and sit in this bar surrounded by men who love me and pretend that everything is fine until everything actuallyisfine. It’s a coping strategy. Not a great one, but it’s mine.

Knox refills my latte without being asked—another heart in the foam, which makes Milo gasp dramatically and demand one too. Knox ignores him. Micah steals the last donut hole. We settle into a comfortable lull, the kind of easy silence thathappens when people know each other well enough that words become optional.

“Oh, hey—do you think Holden will let us get a dog?” Milo pulls out his phone. “I know I’m a cat person. But I saw the saddest looking puppy on my way to work yesterday. I wanted to rescue it. But his owner was right there and I couldn’t find a clear opening.”

He shows me photos of a basset hound with ears that drag on the ground and an expression that reads “existence is suffering.” I dissolve laughing and, next to me, Micah gives a fond shake of his head.

“A dog?” I ask. “Of all the things you could add to the chaos right now, you want a dog.”

“Not just any dog. This one,” Milo insists. He holds the phone for Knox’s inspection.

Knox tips his head, analyzing. “That dog wouldn’t survive a week in our house. We need a Shepherd.”

“Okay, rude,” says Milo, but you can tell he agrees. “I’m just saying, maybe what we need is a house pet. For morale. For anxiety. For, like, snuggling when you’re too tired to get it from your emotionally stunted boyfriend.” This last aimed directly at Knox.

“I’m emotionally available,” Knox says, stone-faced. “I just don’t like you.”