Page 45 of What We Become

As the laughter drains out of us, her breathing starts stretching toward sleep. Then she surfaces one more time, eyes finding mine, half-lidded and fierce anyway.

“Hey. You know you were my first, right?”

“First what?”

“My first of all of you.” Her thumb brushes over my knuckles. “Before Holden. Before Knox. Before any of them. On the beach, covered in blood, surrounded by five masked strangers—I looked at you and decided you were safe. I picked you first, Micah. When I had every reason in the world to trust nobody.”

My throat closes. The machines hum.

“So if we’re ranking by usefulness,” she continues, “the guy who got chosen first wins. That’s just math.”

“That’s not math.”

“It’s Sage math. It’s better than regular math. I’ll probably start a podcast.”

“You should do that.”

“That’s what we can do when it’s over.” She yawns into Milo Number Two’s fur. “Milo will produce it. He’ll build us a sound booth with top-of-the-line everything, sourced questionably.”

“Sounds perfect.” I press my lips to her hair. Her breathing evens out. Slows. The rise and fall under my palm stretches long and easy, and I think she’s gone under when her voice surfaces again—thick with sleep, barely above a whisper.

“Micah.”

“Hm?”

“I’m gonna make sure you let me take care of you too.” The words slur at the edges, tangled up in Milo Number Two’s fur. “When I’m better. When this is all over.”

I go still. “Baby girl⁠—”

“No, listen.” She doesn’t open her eyes. Her fingers find mine and hold on, loose and warm. “You take care of everybody. All the time. And nobody—” she yawns so hard her jaw cracks “—nobody ever asks who’s taking care of you. So I’m gonna. I’m gonna learn how to cook your favorite food for when you’re sad. I’ll give you snuggles and make sure you’re always noticed. I always want you to feel like you belong. You own my heart.”

My chest gets so tight it’s difficult to draw a full breath. My eyes burn.

“You deserve to get some of it back,” she murmurs as her grip goes slack. “So I’m gonna give you more, Micah. Promise. Gonna love you so hard you forget what it felt like to think you had to earn it.”

“Sage—”

“Shh. I’m sleeping now.” A pause. Her breathing deepens. Then, so quiet I almost miss it: “You were my first safe thing. Let me be yours.”

And then she’s gone. Actually gone this time—mouth soft, body heavy against me, Milo Number Two squashed between us.

Her hand stays wrapped around mine.

I lie there listening to her breathe and let the words settle without trying to argue them into something smaller.

You were my first safe thing. Let me be yours.

I press my face into her hair and close my eyes.

“You’re my safe thing too, baby girl,” I whisper, letting the tears roll onto the pillow.

She talked for over an hour tonight. About Milo. About Holden. About the family that stopped calling me.

Not one word about the wall.

I lie in the dark counting her breaths and start working out how you get a woman to tell you something she’s already decided not to say.

ELEVEN