Page 54 of What We Bury

He’s right.

He knows he’s right.

He’s too tired to gloat about it, which is somehow worse.

“Go home, Eli.”

For a moment, I don’t move.

It would be easy to stay. To sit in the dark beside him, convince him to sleep while I stare at her window and pretend this is operational. Pretend this is strategy. Pretend I’m here because Sage is a loose end and not because every instinct I have is trying to drag me closer to her.

But Micah is watching me with that patient, bottomless look, and I’ve never once won against it.

He sees too much.

He always has.

“Fine. I’m going.”

“You’re adorable when you’re grumpy,” he says. I roll my eyes, and he grins as he opens the passenger door. “I’ll let you know if anything happens.”

I nod, watching him yawn again. Concern tugs at my insides.

Another weakness.

Another thing I keep pretending is manageable.

“You sure you don’t want me to stay?” I ask.

“Go. Home.” He shuts the car door behind him. “You look like shit, Eli.”

“Fuck you, Micah.”

He laughs, but there’s something in the way he looks at me that pulls in my chest. Like even after all this time, after everything I’ve done, after every locked door and rationed piece of myself, he still thinks I’m worth worrying about.

That almost breaks something.

I start the car, and he steps back, giving me a little salute as I pull away. In the rearview mirror, he gets smaller, then smaller, until the dark takes him.

Cute little fucker.

Not that I’d ever say that to his face.

Not that I’d say any of it.

That’s the whole point of a lock.

You keep the dangerous things where they belong.

Even when they’re clawing to get out.

FIFTEEN

SAGE

My limbs won’t work.

My mouth is open, jaw locked mid-scream, but sound doesn’t travel through whatever dark world I’m trapped in.