Page 58 of What We Bury

He’s halfway to the door when I hear myself call after him. “Stay.”

He freezes. Looks at me.

“Stay,” I repeat, and my voice sounds strange in my own ears. It’s thin and raw and dangerously close to breaking. “Just . . . stay. Talk to me. For a while. I don’t want to go back to sleep yet.”

I shift to the side a little and pat my bed. He hesitates for the briefest moment before he crosses the room and sinks downonto the bed beside me. He does it slow, careful. Like he’s afraid any sudden movement might spook me.

Once he’s settled, he shifts to look at me. “What do you want to talk about?”

“I don’t know. Anything.” I lean my head back against the headboard and stare at the ceiling. “Tell me how you became one of the Hangmen.”

“The Hangmen?”

I shrug. “It’s what I’m calling your band of merry murderous men.”

He chuckles a little and swipes a hand across his jaw. “Milo is going to love that.”

“Milo’s the one who had the note?” I ask, trying to recall his face.

Micah nods. “He has a flair for forgery.”

“How come I haven’t met him yet? Has he somehow gotten out of Sage-sitting duty?”

“He and I have been on Brock-disappearing duty. But he’ll likely keep his distance a little longer.”

“Why? Is he shy?”

Micah laughs at that. “Far from it. He’s giving you some space. Milo can be . . . a lot.”

“And what about you? Are you a lot? Is that why you didn’t approach me like the others?”

He frowns. “How did they approach you?”

“Let me see . . .” I count them off on my fingers. “Holden grabbed me off the street to explain, in detail, that if I talk it’s mutually assured destruction.”

“Sounds like something Holden would do.”

I smile. “He’s a delight. That’s for sure. Then Knox—he didn’t really approach me as much as I called him out. And Eli came straight into the diner and kind of explained how this whole Hangmen thing got going.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. But he didn’t explain how each person got involved.”

“That’s something you want to know?”

“Of course. You all know my murder origin story. It’s only fair I know yours.”

A smile ghosts across his features before he falls quiet. For a while, I don’t think he’s going to answer. But when he does, his voice is soft as a memory.

“I was raped,” he says.

SIXTEEN

SAGE

My eyes fly to his. I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t that.

He sees the way I flinch, and for a second he almost looks like he’s going to take it back, make a joke, change the subject, but he doesn’t. He sits with it. Lets it hang in the air between us.