Page 67 of What We Bury

“Then what are you?”

Silence. The stairwell is dim, early morning light filtering through the window at the end of the corridor. I can hear Sage’s building settling around us—pipes, floorboards, the distant hum of traffic. Eli’s breathing is too even. Too deliberate. The way you breathe when you’re trying not to feel something.

“You want her.” I don’t ask, because the answer is plain as day. “You want her just as much as I do.”

His jaw flexes. “I don’t even know her.”

“That’s a cop-out.”

“And treating this like some fairy-tale romance is what?” His voice is low and razor-edged. “She’s not some princess, Micah. We’re not here to rescue her. We’re not going to take turns fucking her and somehow we’ll all be magically healed.”

“Don’t be so crass. That isn’t what this is, and you know it.” I lean in closer. “Don’t lie to me, man. She’s under your skin. Fuck, she’s under all of our skins.”

His eyes flick to my mouth, and suddenly his hands fly to my face and grip me hard, fingers digging into my jawline, and for one violent, breathtaking second I brace for a punch. Instead hedrags me into him, mouth crashing onto mine, and it’s not sweet or careful or anything but feral.

He tastes like copper and salt and hurt. I freeze for half a heartbeat then kiss back, matching the pressure, letting him take whatever the fuck he needs. His teeth catch the corner of my mouth and it stings. I let out a sharp, guttural gasp.

It’s only then I realize his whole body’s shaking.

I don’t break away. I let him own this, let him devour my mouth until he’s gasping for breath and the thing inside both of us thrashes satisfied against its cage.

He tears himself back, eyes dark, chest heaving. For a moment, we just stand there—breathing like we fucked instead of fought, heads tipped together, me with my back against the wall and Eli’s hands against my chest.

“She’s not like us,” he says, barely above a whisper. “We should have gotten her out that night. But we didn’t. And now we’ve dragged her into—” He pushes away from me, rakes a hand through his hair. “It’s our job to protect her, not drag her in deeper.”

“I agree.” I tilt my head to try and catch his eyes. Eli is a mask of control and restraint, and it’s always been beautiful to me, how he never lets it slip. But I can see it now—the rupture under the surface. The want, the terror. The knowing that he can’t control this. Whatever is happening right now between us, and with her. He has zero control at all. And that terrifies him.

“I agree with you,” I repeat. “If we’d gotten to that beach a few minutes sooner we could have stopped it before it started. We didn’t. And we have to live with that.” I keep my eyes on his and continue before he can open his mouth to respond. “You’re wrong about one thing, though. She’s exactly like us. You just don’t want to see it.”

He steps far enough away that his back hits the opposite wall. “She’s not ready, Micah. You’ll break her. We all will.”

“She gets to decide who breaks her, and when, and how she wants to come apart.” I take a breath, bracing for his reaction. “And if she does, it won’t be because you or I pushed her. It’ll be because sheneedsto break, and we get to be the lucky bastards who hold her while she puts herself together.”

He looks away. His throat works. The wall is back up but it’s glass now, brittle as fuck. “It was wrong, Micah. What we did in there. She just killed a guy and lost her sense of safety. She needs time, not?—”

“Sheneededwhat I gave her. Whatwegave her. You don’t get to be angry at me for being there.”

“That’s not the same.” His voice is steel.

I crowd him, pressing my palm to the wall next to his head. He towers over me, but I know how to make even giants feel cornered these days. “Then help me understand, Eli. Help me out. Am I supposed to keep her at arm’s length when it’s obvious she’d rather be close? Or am I supposed to shove my feelings down the way you do and call it penance?”

His mouth opens, closes. A muscle in his jaw jumps again. “Micah?—”

“You ever think maybe she needs both of us? All of us? That maybe she’s stronger than we are for surviving this long, let alone letting any of us in?” I stop. Swallow. Force the words from my throat. “I need you, too. Okay? Always have.”

The confession lands like a detonation in the narrow stairwell. I didn’t mean to say it. Or maybe I did. Maybe I’ve been carrying the feelings so long they finally got too heavy.

Eli’s pupils flare, dark and oceanic. “Don’t.”

I want to shove him, fuck or fight, doesn’t matter, just want to see him break out of that ice he lives in. “Don’t what?”

He grabs both my wrists and spins us, slamming me hard to the wall. His grip is iron. Crushing. My pulse spikes but I don’tlook away or flinch. I never do. He can try to pin me all he wants, but he’s the one shaking.

“Don’t what?” I spit it back. My mouth is millimeters from his. I could goad him all day, let us both burn.

His hands tremble at my wrists. Barely, but enough. “Don’t make this about us.”

But it is. It always fucking is.