Page 129 of Bitter When He Begs

Julian shrugs, stepping over to shove at my shoulder. “Don’t make it a habit, dumbass.”

I almost smile. Almost.

But then I’m back in my head again, not spiraling, just thinking. Sitting with the truth of what I almost did. Of how fucking easy it would’ve been. One phone call. One handoff. One hit. And the whole damn thing would’ve collapsed.

Sage.

Fuck.

He doesn’t even know.

He’s probably asleep, curled around a pillow in one of my old shirts, hair a mess, mouth slack from the candy he keeps in his cheek like a little squirrel. I picture him, tucked into bed, trusting me to be strong while he sleeps. Trusting me not to ruin it all.

And I nearly did.

I pinch the bridge of my nose and try to breathe through it, but my lungs feel like they’re filled with cement again. The peppermint helps. It always does. But the shame is still a lead weight in my gut.

Eli tosses another candy at me and I catch it on instinct.

“Take another. You look like you need it.”

“I’m not going to OD on mint,” I mutter.

“Better that than Oxy,” Julian says, deadpan.

I roll my eyes, but even I know it’s fair.

The second one hits my tongue, I swear that I feel my heart slow down. Not enough to fix everything, but enough to make it bearable.

“I’m gonna tell Sage myself what happened when I get home tomorrow,” I say quietly.

Eli nods, his expression serious. “Good. But for now, we’ll be keeping your phone until we get on that bus.”

Julian walks over and claps a hand on my shoulder. “He’ll get it. That boy’s got more spine than all your hookups combined. He’s not going anywhere.”

My chest aches with how much I hope he’s right.

Because Sage is my anchor.

He’s peppermint and film trivia, and the warm silence that doesn’t need to be filled. He’s knowing when to push, when to hold me, and when to shut me up with his mouth. He’s mine.

And I almost gave all that away for a moment of quiet.

Never again.

I glance up at them both. “I’ll be okay.”

Julian arches an eyebrow. “You sure?”

I nod. “Yeah. I just… I needed to remember what the hell I’m doing this for.”

They don’t say anything more. They don’t have to, but slowly, the edge fades. Not all the way, not completely, but enough.

Enough that I don’t think about leaving.

Enough that I don’t call again.

Enough that I stay.