Page 258 of What We Bury

“You need anything, kitten?”

“I’m happy right here.”

“Good enough for now.” He kisses the tip of my nose and settles back, arm around my shoulder, fingers playing with the ends of my hair.

Eli has been watching from the coffee table the whole time, and where the others have folded into me, he hasn’t moved. When our eyes meet, something in his face is shut in a way it hasn’t been since before the club. He stands and crouches in front of me—hands on his own knees this time, not mine—and looks straight at me.

“We’re going to figure out who did it,” he says. “We’ll keep you safe.” It’s steady. It’s a promise. But there’s a wall behind it, and I feel the wall go up even as he says the words.

I reach for him, the way I have multiple times now, fingers finding his hair. For a second he leans into it—helpless, hungry—and then he catches himself and pulls back. Stands. The retreat is so deliberate it’s almost violent, and the loss of him is a cold spot in a warm room.

I’m not the only one who notices. Micah’s arms tighten around me once, almost imperceptibly. Milo stops playing with my hair.

“Maybe we should just see what’s on TV,” he suggests, grabbing the remote.

We sit and watch for a while, some show about home renovations that doesn’t require much brain power. Then Knox returns from the kitchen and I reach for him as he passes, catching his hand, pulling him close enough to press my mouth to his knuckles. He holds the contact for a beat, the heel of his thumb pressing into my palm, and something passes between us that doesn’t need words.

He drops a kiss on my head then moves to sit back in his armchair. I nestle myself back into Micah and Milo, the three of us folded into each other in a way that could go somewhere fast if anyone let it. I let out a low hum of satisfaction as Milo’s fingers go back to brushing through my hair.

“I love it when you purr, kitten,” he whispers, just as his mouth finds the spot below my ear. My breath hitches, and his hand slides from my hair to my neck, fingers tracing my collarbone. Micah’s grip on my waist tightens at the same time, his lips moving up to the curve of my jaw. I moan.

“That’s enough.”

Holden’s voice cuts through the haze like cold water. I open my eyes and he’s leaning in the kitchen doorway, arms crossed, watching us with an expression that’s a mix of fondness and authority.

“We’re just—” Milo starts.

“I know what you’re just. And she needs sleep, not a five-man pileup.” He pushes off the door frame and crosses to the couch, extending his hand to me. “Come on, wildcat. Bath and bed.”

“I’m fine,” I protest, even as my body screams otherwise—the soreness from last night is still lingering, along with theemotional whiplash of the day. If I’m honest, my bones feel like concrete.

I look at the others. Micah gives me a small nod. Milo releases me with an exaggerated sigh. Even Eli tips his chin toward Holden, an unspokengo.

I take Holden’s hand. He pulls me to my feet with the effortless strength I’ll never get used to and tucks me against his side.

“Say goodnight, boys. She’s done for the day.”

“Goodnight, kitten.” Milo blows me a kiss.

“Sleep well, baby girl.”

Knox raises two fingers from the armchair. Eli watches us go.

Holden walks me upstairs with his hand on the small of my back, guiding me into the bedroom and shutting the door with a soft click. The room is dim—just the nightstand lamp—and the bed is turned down, my pajamas already laid out.

“You did this?” I ask.

“Sit.” Holden doesn’t answer. Just points at the bed. Then he disappears into the bathroom. I hear the faucet turn, water hitting the tub, and a minute later he comes back.

“Bath’s running. I put out towels and some of my body wash—it’s not exactly lavender and rose petals, but it’ll do.” He crouches to untie my shoes, working the laces, precise, unhurried. “There’s a robe on the door. Take your time. Relax. Call out if you need anything. I’ll be downstairs.”

He starts to stand.

“Don’t go.”

My voice comes out small. I didn’t want that to happen, but it does anyway. Holden stops, one hand still on my ankle, and looks up at me.

“Please don’t leave me alone tonight.” My voice is steady, mostly, but the edges are raw. “I know you think I need rest. And I do. But I—” I swallow. “I don’t want to close my eyes in aroom by myself right now. I keep seeing it. The rope. The threat. Please?”