Page 154 of What We Bury

“Do that,” he says finally. “If Dean is going to be useful, I want him in play before another op goes sideways. Not after.”

Useful. Like we’re discussing a new piece of equipment. Not a man.

He rises, smooth and unhurried. “Keep your timelines tight. I don’t like drift.”

None of us answer. We don’t need to. He leaves the same way he came in—quiet enough that the room feels louder after the door clicks shut behind him.

For a second, nobody says shit.

Then Milo exhales through his nose. “Well. Delightful as always. Love when Father drops by to call Sage ‘the girl’ like she’s some Dickensian orphan we found in a coal chute.”

Eli’s face is stone but there’s a tic in his jaw. Milo is already pawing at the box for a second croissant.

I get up, stretching. “Anyone else need a drink, or is it too early for whiskey?”

“It’s eight in the morning,” Knox says.

“So that’s a maybe.”

I don’t wait for an answer. I head for the bar, snag a clean glass from the rack Micah was stocking, and pour two fingers of whiskey.

Behind me, Milo says, “Actually, while Captain Emotional Constipation is still seated—should we address whatever’s been lodged up your ass lately?”

I take a sip and turn.

Eli doesn’t look at him. He closes the folder with slow, precise care. “No.”

Milo spreads his hands. “Cool. Good talk. Love a collaborative environment.”

“Drop it,” Eli says.

Micah leans a hip against the table, arms folded, expression mild in the way that means he’s about to put a knife in somewhere soft. “You know he won’t.”

“I know,” Eli says flatly.

“Good,” Milo says. “We’re on the same page.” He leans back with his hands behind his head. “Because we need to talk about the fact we’re all obsessed with the same woman. Or are we just gonna keep pretending this is a professional surveillance operation with a little kissy-kissy on the side?”

“Milo—” Eli starts.

“No, he’s right.” I cut Eli off because someone has to, and it might as well be me. “We need to have this conversation. A shared fixation is a shared vulnerability. So let’s figure out what this actually is before it becomes a problem we can’t solve.”

Knox pushes off the wall. Takes a seat for the first time. That alone tells me he knows this matters.

“Okay, I’ll go first,” Micah says. “How do we make this work?”

“Ground rules,” I say, sipping the whiskey and enjoying the burn. “Because right now, we’re all orbiting her in our own little silos, and it’s creating friction.” I gesture between Eli and Micah with my glass. “Case in point.”

“There’s no friction,” Eli says flatly.

“There’s enough friction to start a fire, and you know it.” I set my glass on the counter and lean forward. “So here’s what I think. We stop tiptoeing around it. She likes us. Some of us, she already more than likes. The question is whether we turn that into a pissing contest, or whether we build something that lets her choose without any of us making her pay for it.”

“We’re not competing,” Knox says. Three words. Verdict delivered.

“Agreed,” Milo says. “Competition implies a loser, and I refuse to lose at anything, so sharing is the only logical option.”

“It’s not up to us,” Micah says. “It’s up to her. She decides who she wants, when she wants them, and how. Our job is to make sure she feels safe enough to choose honestly.”

“Beautifully put.” Milo slow claps. “Spoken like a man who’s already been chosen.”