Page 71 of What We Become

He steps outside.

The kitchen settles around the noise. Micah carries plates to the sink, and I keep eating while Milo attacks the mountain in bursts—engine, wood, silence, engine again.

The first tree was funny.

The second is still fairly funny.

By the third, we’re getting concerned.

“Seems all the trees are named Stephen,” Micah says, watching through the window as Milo screams the name again.

“Do you know when the last time he slept was?” I ask, looking at the open laptops and the abandoned coffee.

“He’s always awake whenever I am, but that’s not unusual.” Micah’s mouth tightens, but he turns on the faucet and starts rinsing plates.

The saw screams again.

I swirl a piece of pancake through the syrup and listen to Milo murder trees. This is how Milo handles things—loudly, dramatically, and with enough equipment to require a safety waiver.

But the cold coffee and yesterday’s clothes keep pulling at me. So do the laptops, the deer, the light switch, and now the trees.

The saw sputters out mid-whine.

Through the glass, I watch Knox lift the chainsaw out of Milo’s hands one-handed, like confiscating a toy from a toddler. Milo’s arms go up, and even from here I can read the outrage in his shoulders. Holden stands in front of him with his arms crossed, saying something that makes the helmet droop.

For a moment, the quiet feels wrong.

“Talk to me,” Micah says.

“I’m fine.”

“Sage.”

“I’m eating pancakes in a mountain mansion while the man who makes the best coffee I’ve ever had washes dishes. I’m fine. I’m just worried about Milo. I don’t want him pushing too hard again. You saw what happened last time.”

“Hmm.” He dries his hands and turns around, leaning back against the sink.

He doesn’t push.

That’s Micah. He creates the opening, then lets me decide whether to walk through it. No demand. No interrogation. Just space with him waiting on the other side.

I eat another bite. Chew. Swallow.

“He’s doing what he always does,” I say finally. “Finding something he can fix because he can’t fix Stephen.”

Micah glances over his shoulder to where Milo is still talking with Knox and Holden outside. “I’ve been watching this build for three days.”

“You think he’s heading for another crash?”

“I don’t know. But this isn’t only Milo being Milo.”

“So we do something.” My fork is already down. “I’ll talk to him.”

“We are doing something.” Micah covers my hand with his. Warm. Steady. “Holden and Knox are with him.”

“Holden’s going to grouch at him.”

“Probably.” His thumb moves once over my knuckles. “But Milo trusts him. Enough to let him close when the jokes stop working.”