Page 233 of What We Become

“I’ve held your hand enough times to know.”

The kitchen goes quiet. Not uncomfortable. Just full. Full of cake and gauze and perfect gifts.

“This is all—” Emotion catches in my throat, and I have to blink fast and breathe slow to push it back down. “Amazing. Thoughtful. Wonderful. Thank you all so much.”

Holden clears his throat before anyone else can respond. “There’s still one more thing.”

I look at him. “Holden, I can’t take any more gifts. I’m going to short-circuit.”

“There’s something I want to ask you.” He looks at Eli. At Knox. At Micah and Milo. “All of us, if I’m reading this right.”

Eli nods. Micah’s smile trembles. Knox reaches for my hand, and Milo sits a little straighter.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

“Remember what Milo said on the beach?” Holden asks.

I blink. “The part where he praised my tight ass?”

Milo gasps. “Rude. Reductive. Also, not the part we were referring to, though thank you for bringing it up—I stand by my analysis.”

Micah gives me a helpless little smile. “The other part.”

“The proposing part?” I ask, and the second the words leave my mouth, the sound drops out of the room.

Milo’s fidgeting with the edge of his plate. Micah’s watching me carefully. Eli hasn’t blinked. Knox is looking at me like I’m his world. Holden—God help me—looks almost severe about it.

“Oh,” I say. A titan of eloquence.

“Yeah,” Milo says. “Oh.”

My pulse starts climbing. “You’re serious.”

“Yes,” Holden says.

“Very,” Micah adds.

I look at Eli. “All of you?”

His mouth tips. “Little savage, there’s no version of this where any of us step back.”

The movement is almost comical in its inevitability. All five of them begin the slow process of levering themselves out of their chairs, bracing on the table, or each other, or just forcing their muscles to move with raw fucking will.

And then, like the idiot heroes they are, they all move to go down on one knee.

“Wait—stop!” I blurt, nearly knocking my cake over. They freeze mid-motion. Two with hands on the table, one with a leg already half-bent, Milo clutching a chair back, Knox upright but already projecting the angle he’d need to swing his splinted leg so he could get to the floor.

“Are you kidding me? You are all held together by duct tape and spite. If you try to kneel, someone’s going to re-open a wound or need an ambulance.” My voice cracks on the last word, but I don’t care. I’m laughing and crying at the same time. “Just. Sit. Or stand. Whichever works—but please don’t kneel right now.”

They all hover there, suspended between persistence and pride, and then Micah pipes up, “We’ll stand, then.”

“Thank you.”

He smiles, then moves around the table to stand in front of me, reaching out and taking my hand between his. “Sage. Baby girl. You came into my life covered in blood and shaking so hard I thought you’d shake apart.” His voice is steady, but his eyes are full. “And I held you. And you let me. And that was the moment I knew you were mine. That I’d spend the rest of my life being the person you let hold you. You made me brave enough to love again, baby girl. I don’t ever want to let go.”

I bite my lip hard and try not to let my eyes fill with tears.

Knox takes my hand next. “Fury. Before you, I was a wall.” His voice is low, rough. “You made me a door. I’m never closing.”