Page 33 of What We Bury

She stops in front of her building and jams out her hand for the bag. I don’t make her ask twice. She hugs it close, shoulders taut, spine rigid.

“Should I expect more unannounced break-ins?” she asks.

I shake my head, arms crossed in front of my chest.

“Do I have to worry about you guys showing up when I’m in the shower? Or, like, standing in my room at night while I sleep? Cause that’s creepy as fuck and you guys have already been in my apartment twice by my count.”

The idea of watching her sleep sparks something sick inside me—it’s both a joke and a trap, cause god knows I’d love to be a shadow on her wall.

“We’ll only enter if there’s a reason.”

It takes her a moment, but she nods, tiny, like she accepts that answer but doesn’t like it. She backs up three more steps, keys ready in her fist, then turns and bounds up the stairs, two at a time. The key slides in, and a beat later the door slams behind her.

I wait. Forty-five seconds. Long enough for her to travel the small lobby, climb the internal stairs and open her apartment. It’s because I’m worried for her, and because some quieter, uglier part of me likes knowing exactly where she is.

I find a spot across the street in the shadow of a dumpster that smells like salt and rotting fish. I lean against the brick wall and watch her building until the light comes on in her window.

I stay there for a long time. Long enough for the light to turn off, for the building to go dark. I stay until there’s nothing left to watch but shadows and the distant churn of the sea.

Then I pull out my phone and text Eli.

Me:

She’s home safe.

Three dots appear. Disappear. Appear again.

Eli:

Thanks. She give you any trouble?

My fingers hover over the keyboard.

Me:

Nothing I can’t handle.

I put the phone away and press my skull against the brick.

Nothing I can’t handle? Bullshit.

Sage has a mouth on her, and more steel than sense. She makes me want to do terrible, patient things. She’s supposed to be a job, but it seems my body didn’t get that memo.

She’s dangerous.

I’m about to leave when I see her curtains twitch, and her face appear in the window. For a beat, I think she’s looking at me, then the curtains close once more.

Fuck.

I settle back against the wall, crossing my arms as a breeze touches my hair.

Someone needs to keep watch. Might as well be me.

ELEVEN

MILO

“Let’s put some life back in those cheeks, buddy.”