Page 290 of What We Bury

Nothing.

I look down the walkway, irrationally sure I’m going to see someone jogging away with our dinner and a guilty conscience. But the street is quiet—just a car passing at the end of the block, the low hush of the ocean somewhere beyond the buildings.

Micah looks at me. “Did they text?”

I shake my head. “They’re old school. You call the order in and one of their family members delivers.”

“Okay. Well, if it was someone buzzing the whole building to let them in, we’d have passed someone on the way down.”

“Maybe some asshole kid hit random units and ran,” I suggest.

He scans the lot one more time, shoulders loose but alert. “Want to head back up?”

I look up to the darkening sky. “I’d rather wait out here—if that’s okay.” I take a deep inhale. “Need some air.”

“Of course. I doubt they’ll be much longer.”

I nod, grateful. I’ve been feeling so strong. So secure with my guys around me that I haven’t felt this tightness for weeks. But now . . .

Now the danger feels too close.

Micah stands beside me. Near enough but not touching. Giving me space to fall apart or hold it together, whichever I need, without making the choice for me.

“Thank you,” I say after a minute. “It all just . . . hit me. You know?”

He gives me a small smile and nods. “You don’t need to thank me, baby girl.”

“I do, though. You’re carrying a lot right now. Not just me—Eli, the group, everything. You haven’t cracked once.”

“I’ve cracked plenty. I just do it quietly.” He gives me a half-smile. “Call it the Micah specialty.”

I reach for his hand. He takes it. We stand there in the fading light, my back against the brick building, his shoulder against mine, and for a moment the world is still and the noise in my head goes quiet.

I can almost pretend that everything is going to be okay.

Then his phone rings.

He pulls it out. Looks at the screen. And his whole body goes rigid.

“What?” I ask.

“It’s Eli.”

The name hits me like a slap. My hand tightens on his.

“Take it,” I say.

“Sage—”

“Take it. I’m fine. I’m right here. I can wait for food.”

He searches my face for a beat, then nods. “Don’t move. I mean it—stay right here.”

He steps away—not far, just a little farther along the building, phone pressed to his ear. I catch the low murmur of his voice but not the words.

I close my eyes and lean my head back against the brick. The ache behind my ribs flares the way it does every time I think of Eli and the way he left, the things he said to me.

I try to breathe through it but my chest just gets tighter, my thoughts more jumbled.