Page 132 of What We Bury

“Five minutes,” he says finally.

He gets out and locks the car, and I can’t help but notice he’s wearing the jacket he was acting so noble over after the meeting. It gives me a little thrill, seeing how transparent he really is and knowing he’d never admit it.

I head across the street and he follows, trailing me into the building without another word. His footsteps are heavy on the steps behind me. We get to Sage’s apartment and I test the handle. The door’s unlocked so I push through it quietly.

The apartment is dim. A single lamp lights the kitchen, the TV glowing in the living room, volume so low it’s just a murmur. The air smells like garlic and dish soap.

Milo looks up when we walk in and his eyes go wide.

“Well, well,” he whispers, keeping his voice low. “Look what the cat dragged in. Or should I say, what Micah dragged in?”

“Shut up,” Eli says, but there’s no heat in it. His eyes are locked on Sage.

She’s curled on her side, her head on Milo’s lap, a throw blanket pulled up to her chin. One hand’s tucked under her cheek, her hair fanned across his legs. The TV is cycling through the credits of something.

“Fellowship of the Ring,” Milo says, following my gaze. “Extended edition. She made it as far as Lothlórien.” He shakes his head, mock-solemn. “Didn’t even get to Boromir’s noble death. Devastating, really. We’ll have to start it again.”

“You watched all three?”

“Just the first. We were planning to marathon them, but as you can see, my apprentice has limits.” Milo pauses. “She’d never seen them. I know. I had the same reaction. It’s practically a crime. But she’s been educated now. Mostly.” He runs his fingers through her hair. “I was trying to figure out how to carry her to bed without waking her, but since we now have two gentlemen present . . .” He looks at me, then Eli.

Eli doesn’t move. Just stands there, staring at her like she’s something fragile and impossible, something he wants to touch but is afraid will shatter.

“She won’t bite,” Milo whispers. “Well. She might. But you’d like it.” His eyes shift to me. “Or maybe it’s Micah who likes that.”

I ignore him.

“Eli.” I keep my voice soft. “Just take her to bed. She’ll sleep better there.”

He hesitates. But then he crosses the room and crouches beside her. He slides one arm under her knees, the other behind her shoulders, and lifts her in one smooth motion. She barely stirs. Just makes a small sound in her throat and turns her face into his chest, her fingers curling into the lapel of his jacket.Thejacket.

“Eli.”

She says it in her sleep, but his whole body goes still. Just for a second. Like the contact has short-circuited something inside him.

For a long beat, he stands there, holding her like there’s nowhere else in the world he’d rather be. Then he carries her down the hallway.

Milo and I look at each other.

“We absolutely cannot,” I whisper.

“We absolutely have to,” Milo whispers back.

He’s already moving. I follow because what am I going to do,notfollow.

We creep down the hallway like idiots, stopping shy of her bedroom doorway so we can peer around the frame without being seen. Eli has his back to us. He’s laying her down on the bed with a tenderness that makes my chest hurt to watch, pulling the covers up, tucking them around her shoulders. Brushing the hair back from her face.

Then he straightens. Hesitates. Shrugs out of his jacket and hangs it carefully over the back of her chair.

Milo elbows me hard enough to bruise.

Eli stands there for another moment, looking at her. Looking at the jacket.

“Now,” Milo hisses.

We bolt back down the hall on the balls of our feet and head for the kitchen. Milo dives for the sponge and starts wiping a surface that’s already clean. I study the spice rack like it contains the secrets of the universe. My pulse is going like I just ran a sprint.

“She’s in bed,” Eli says.