Page 276 of What We Burn

Sage snorts. “Jesus Christ.”

“My penis had expectations today, Sage. It was promised an adventure. Instead, it got a participation trophy and a front-row seat to someone else’s grand romance—which I know is a net positive for the household but a net negative for my wang.”

Sage presses her lips together. She’s trying not to laugh. “So you’re jealous.”

“I’m not jealous. I’m . . . dickappointed.”

“That’s not a word.”

“It is now. I’m coining it. Dickappointed. The state of being emotionally fulfilled but sexually overlooked. Trademark pending.”

Holden crunches another carrot.

“The thing is,” I continue, because once I start talking about my feelings, I physically cannot stop. It’s a design flaw. “I know I wanted Micah. That kiss was good. Embarrassingly good. The kind of good that deserves a follow-up study involving fewer clothes. What I don’t know is whether I’m attracted to Micah specifically, whether he opened a door that includes other men, or whether I need to stick a label on any of it yet. I just know I wanted more, and Eli carried him upstairs before I got to find out how much more.”

“Then maybe that’s all you need to know today,” Sage says gently. “You wanted him. You liked kissing him. You can let the rest unfold without turning it into a personality test you have to finish before dinner.”

I look at the pasta and don’t say anything for a second.

“Yeah,” I say. “Maybe I can.”

“You know what I think?” Sage hops up onto the counter, legs swinging. “I think you spent a week being held together by other people, and now that you’re upright again, part of you is wondering if anyone would hold you when you don’t need it. When it’s not a crisis. When it’s just—because they want to.”

A lump fills my throat. I swallow it down. “When did you get so smart?”

“I’ve always been smart. You were all too busy being loud and trying to fuck me to notice.”

“Fair.”

Holden crunches the last of his carrot. The sound is very loud in the quiet kitchen. Then he says, without any particular inflection, “I’ll suck your dick for you.”

SEVENTY

MILO

Ichoke on my own spit.

I cough. Splutter. Sage hands me a napkin and I hack into it for about ten seconds while my brain tries to reboot from the catastrophic error of Holden Cross, the most heterosexual man I’ve ever met, casually offering to put my dick in his mouth over a bag of carrots.

“I’m sorry,” I wheeze. “What?”

“You heard me.” Holden takes out another carrot and bites it. Absolutely unbothered. “You want your dick sucked. I’m offering. I’ll fuck your ass too, if you want it.”

There’s a full second where nobody in the kitchen moves.

The refrigerator hums. Sage’s bare heel taps the cabinet once. Somewhere outside, a gull screams like it’s personally offended by my life choices.

I stare at Holden.

Holden stares back with the same expression he uses when discussing weather patterns, murder cleanup, or the proper placement of cheddar.

“You cannot say things like that,” I finally manage.

“I can. I just did.”

Sage makes a strangled noise that is definitely laughter and definitely not helping.

I point at Holden with the hand still clutching the napkin. “You. Detective Repression. Captain Fun-Police. Human Spreadsheet. You are standing in your kitchen eating baby carrots and telling me you’ll suck my dick.”