Page 248 of What We Burn

“To my⁠—”

“Yes.”

“With your⁠—”

“Milo.”

“I need a minute.” He holds up one finger. Stares at the ceiling. Then he looks at Micah again, tilting his head the way he does when he’s evaluating a new piece of data. “Okay. So. Here’s the thing. I’ve always identified as aggressively, enthusiastically, almost competitively heterosexual. Like, if straight was a sport, I’d be in the Olympics.”

“Noted,” Micah says.

“But.” Milo pauses. Looks down at the blanket covering his lower half. Looks back at Micah. “There was a twitch down there when you said that. A definite twitch. Which I’m going to need to unpack at some point, possibly with a therapist, but also possibly with your mouth.”

I bury my face in the pillow to keep from laughing so hard I choke.

“So maybe I’m kinda gay now,” Milo says, like he’s announcing a minor schedule change. “Or bi. Or Micah-sexual. Is that a thing? Can I be Micah-sexual? I feel like that’s the most accurate descriptor for whatever’s happening to my penis.”

“You can be whatever you want,” Micah says, grinning.

“What I want is breakfast,” Milo says. “Because I’m starving and I’m sure my mom left instructions that if I don’t eat before doing anything else, she’ll come back and burn the house down or something.”

“Protein,” I say. “She said you need to eat protein.”

Milo pouts. “Damn. She was that specific? I really wanted pancakes and like, a butt-ton of syrup.”

“How about we do bacon and eggs with a side of pancake and a butt-ton of syrup?” Micah suggests.

Milo turns to face him and smiles. “Yes, Micah! That’s perfect. No wonder my dick likes you.”

“Sexuality is a spectrum,” I say. “You could be straight for everything except Micah giving blow jobs. I think that’s actually very woke.”

Milo beams. “Thank you, kitten. I always knew you’d be supportive about my alternative lifestyle choices.”

Micah laughs and entwines his fingers with mine across Milo’s stomach.

For a second, the three of us lie there in the honeyed morning, a tangle of arms and legs and the easy relief of being together.

“Okay. Can we please go eat before my blood sugar tanks and I start weeping uncontrollably again?” Milo asks. “Not that I don’t love a good cry, but I feel like I got most of it out of my system last night.”

Micah stands and holds out a hand. Milo takes it. Gets pulled to his feet. Sways for a second, then steadies. When I get up to help Milo wobble off the mattresses and onto solid ground, I realize that you can watch someone you love fall apart completely, hold them through the worst of it, and wake up the next morning making dick jokes on a bedroom floor. That the falling apart and the putting back together aren’t separate events. They’re the same event, experienced from different angles, and the only thing that matters is that you’re there for both.

“Come on,” I say, taking Milo’s other hand. “Eggs. Bacon. Pancakes. And, on special request, a butt-ton of syrup.”

Milo and Micah shuffle out of the bedroom, Milo clinging to Micah’s arm like he’s forgotten how to walk by himself and has decided to make it everyone’s business. I stagger after them, tripping over the edge of a blanket, and nearly collide with Knox in the hallway.

“Morning, Fury.”

He tilts his head down and I immediately wrap my arms around his neck, holding him tight. He picks me up off the floor and I wrap myself around him koala style.

“You good?” He pulls back far enough to read me.

I shake my head. “I don’t know what I am anymore. But I know I’m glad for you.”

“Same,” he says, leaning in to kiss me. His lips are soft and firm on mine, and the world becomes incredibly narrow. He doesn’t let go when I pull back, just keeps me cradled in his arms, breathing me in like he needs to be sure I’m real. Only then, when I uncoil, does he set me down gently. “Don’t like almost losing you, Fury.”

I place both hands on either side of his face. “I’m right here. And it’s over now, right? They’re all gone.”

He doesn’t answer. He just presses his lips to my forehead, and for a second, I feel the last twenty-four hours contract to a single pinpoint of warmth.