Page 99 of What We Become

Knox pulls the knife out of the mattress and throws it into the fire.

“The fucking knife!” Milo lunges, but Holden catches him around the waist before he gets within reach of the flames. “Do you know how long I spent getting the head symmetrical? I modeled it after Holden’s beautiful dick.”

Holden’s arm tightens, and the tips of his ears turn red.

“Nothing about this was body-safe,” Eli says as Holden hauls him back.

“The resin was certified.”

“The tree tried to kill you.”

“That’s how you know it was perfect for kitten. She survives everything.”

The handle catches with a small, tragic flame.

I press my lips together, but a laugh escapes anyway. It hurts Milo’s feelings for approximately half a second before he points at me from inside Holden’s grip.

“She loved it. Witnesses heard her. When we get back home, I’m going to get one of those build-a-dildo kits and make you an even better fucking knife. The fucking knife two point oh. I’ll make you one in every size so you can pick if you want to fuck Knoxie Knife or Milo Machete.”

“I would love that,” I say, laughing so hard I’m wiping tears from my eyes.

“Holden, get his clothes into a bag and wash your hands,” Micah says, taking control of the room. “Eli, there’s colloidal oatmeal in the medical supplies. Knox, find every piece of that wood and anything he used to carve it, but don’t touch it with bare skin.”

“I wore gloves,” Milo says.

Micah looks at his bandaged hands. “Clearly.”

“One tore.”

“And the rash across your chest?”

“It was hot, so I took my shirt off. Then I carried the branch inside.” He glances down at the welts. “In retrospect, pressing it against my body may have been an intimacy the tree hadn’t consented to.”

“Bathroom,” Micah orders.

The room breaks into motion. Eli and Knox head for the stairs, while Holden releases Milo only long enough to strip the contaminated jeans from him, bundling them with the shirt and kitchen towel. Micah turns on the shower and pushes Milo under lukewarm water, ignoring every complaint about his creative process being washed away.

I stand beside the bed for one second longer, watching my beautiful, ridiculous knife blacken in the fireplace.

Then I follow Milo and help by filling the giant tub.

By the time Micah is satisfied that every trace of sap is gone, Eli has returned with the oatmeal treatment, clean towels, and enough antihistamines to make Milo suspicious. The bathwater clouds as Micah empties the packet beneath the running faucet, turning pale and milky while Milo peers over his shoulder.

“This isn’t how I imagined getting naked with kitten tonight.”

“Get in,” Micah says.

“You’re very bossy when my epidermis is compromised.”

“Get the fuck in the bath, Milo.”

“I’d have preferred a fucking bath with the fucking knife . . .” Milo gets in.

The tub is large enough for four, but the others leave us after Micah gives us strict instructions about water temperature, scratching, and what to do if the rash spreads or Milo starts having trouble breathing. Holden pauses at the door to make sure Milo actually takes the tablets. Eli collects the contaminated towel and clothing. Knox returns long enough to report that the remaining wood, shavings, and tools are secured outside, then looks at Milo soaking beneath the skylight.

“Treasure map,” he mutters, and walks away.

I wait until I’m sure they’re all downstairs, then strip and climb into the bath next to Milo.