Page 68 of What We Burn

“Because a fist would have been easy for you. You know how to take pain. You’ve always known how to take pain.” I twist my grip and he bites back a groan. “But you’ve never known how to take this.”

I kiss him. Not hard this time. Not with teeth. I kiss him like I mean it, long, soft, and slow. A gasp breaks out of his chest.

“God, Micah—missed this, missed you,” he murmurs against my mouth.

“This doesn’t mean I’ve forgiven you, Eli. You have to make it right with Sage first.”

“I will,” Eli gasps, his fingers tangling in my hair, voice breaking as he brings his mouth to mine again. “Just—don’t stop touching me. Please.”

TWENTY

HOLDEN

My alarm goes off at five, and Sage is wrapped around me like a vine.

Her face is pressed into my chest, one leg hooked over mine, her fingers curled into my T-shirt like she grabbed hold sometime in the night and never let go. She’s breathing slow and even now, but that wasn’t the case when I got home.

I’d come through the side door around two-thirty. Keys palmed, quiet out of habit. The stove light was on. I rounded the corner into the kitchen and stopped.

Micah was chest down across the counter, Eli fucking him from behind.

Neither of them heard me come in.

I stood in the dark for approximately four seconds. Assessed the situation. Determined that intervention was neither required nor desired. Backed out of the kitchen, went upstairs, and opened Sage’s door to check on her.

She was tangled in the sheets, making small, choked sounds in the back of her throat, her hands clawing at the pillow. Nightmares. I’d seen it enough times by now to know the drill. I kicked off my shoes, took off my jeans, and climbed in beside her. When I pulled her against my chest, she fought me for about three seconds—rigid, gasping, hands shoving—and then her brain registered who I was and she collapsed into me like a building with its supports cut.

“Holden,” she’d whispered. Half asleep. Half drowning.

“I’m here, wildcat. Go back to sleep.”

She did. I didn’t. I lay there with her hair in my face and her fist in my shirt and ran scenarios until the alarm.

Tuesday. Meeting with Odin at seven. The agenda has only two items—the Sage Situation, and our next target.

We have two hours to get everyone fed, caffeinated, and into the city without killing each other first.

Given the current state of this household, that’s ambitious.

I silence my alarm just as Sage stirs, blinks, squints at me like she’s confused.

“Morning, wildcat.”

“Mmm.” She stretches against me, catlike, then settles back into my chest. “What time is it?”

“Five.”

“That’s inhumane.”

“We’ve got Odin at seven.”

She groans into my shirt. Then lifts her head. Looks around the room. Frowns.

“Where’s Micah? He was here when I fell asleep.”

“Last I saw, he was downstairs. With Eli.”

“With Eli?” She pushes up on one elbow. “Is everything okay?”