Page 43 of What We Become

In the helicopter, I couldn’t even touch her. Every inch of her belonged to wires and medicine and strangers with steady hands. I sat there with foam crusted on my arms and nothing to hold except Knox’s hand and my own terror.

Now she’s warm against the whole front of me, breathing under my palm like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

“What time is it?” she asks.

“Three-oh-seven.”

“Morning?”

“Generally what comes after midnight.”

She wriggles closer. “You’re getting mouthy, Raine.”

“Your attitude is contagious.”

She shifts again and immediately winces. I snatch my hand away.

“Ribs?” I ask.

“They’re attached to my lungs, so yes. They hurt when I breathe.”

“And you put my hand on them?” I try to pull away so I can get off the bed. “I’m getting Shahid.”

“No.” She grips the arm she’s using as a pillow. “You can stay right here and hold me.”

“I’ll stay as long as you need,” I say, and settle back against the pillows, curling around her until there’s no part of her back that isn’t against me.

Her ribs rise. Fall. Rise again. Her oxygen is at ninety-six percent, and my body is behaving like the screen says fifty, because my mind keeps circling questions I don’t want the answer to.

A few nights ago she needed me to breathe for her. Tonight she needs me to feel her breathe. But a week from now? A month? When the bruises fade and the rib knits and Stephen is a name we only say in past tense—what does she need me for then?

I’m the comfort guy. That’s my whole function here. Holden strategizes. Milo solves. Knox protects. Eli commands. And me? I’m the soft place to land. The safe harbor.

Harbors are where ships stop. Not where they stay.

“You’re doing it again,” she murmurs.

“Doing what?”

“Worrying with your whole personality.” She turns her head just enough that I can see the edge of her smile. “Your hand gets tense. Right here.” She presses her fingers over mine, flat against her hips. “Like you’re trying to hold my bones in place. Talk to me, Micah.”

“It’s nothing, baby girl. You should sleep.”

“Micah Jeffrey Raine.” Full name. I’m done for. “I got bricked into a wall a few days ago. Nothing you say is going to be the thing that breaks me. Spill.”

I stare at the ceiling. The machines make their polite, expensive noise. And because she’s Sage, because she’s the only person I’ve ever met who can drag the truth out of me with nothing but patience and a raised eyebrow, it comes out.

“What happens when you’re safe?”

She goes still. “What do you mean?”

“I mean—” My throat works. “This. Us. All of it. It happened in the middle of everything. The beach, the rope, the Kennel, the wall. Every single milestone of our relationship has blood on it somewhere.” I force the rest out before I lose my nerve. “What if that’s all it is? Proximity and adrenaline. What if when the danger’s gone, you wake up one morning and realize you don’t actually need any of us—you just needed us to survive?”

“Micah—” She draws a slow breath, careful with the rib, and when she speaks again her voice drops into that low, direct register that means she’s done joking. “We all just agreed to move in together. Permanently. Holden asked us. All of us. Milo even built fuck pit two-point-oh. So let me get this straight—are you having second thoughts?”

“No.” It comes out fast, my arm tightening around her before I can soften it. “No. Absolutely not. I love you. I love Eli, I love all of them, I love the mess of it. It’s the only thing I want.”

“Okay. Then what is this?”