Page 119 of What We Break
Reid's room is messy in a comfortable way. Clothes draped over a chair, books stacked on the nightstand, the bed unmade from this morning. It smells like him—cedar and soap and something warm underneath.
I've stayed over before, but I never let myself poke around. I didn't want to be nosy. But I want to know everything about him and I know Reid well enough now to know that he wouldn't mind. So I wander toward his dresser while the shower runs down the hall. There are photos tucked into the mirror frame. Reid, Blake and another man that has to be Jared, in military fatigues, grinning like idiots. Another picture of a younger Reid with an older couple. Mom and Dad.
There's a little scream, then a string of curses from the bathroom. Oops. I forgot to tell him about the hot water. My bad.
His bookshelf is chaos. Medical manuals next to fantasypaperbacks, a dog-eared copy of The Hobbit wedged between Paramedic training guides. Huh. Wouldn't have guessed that one. I somehow pictured him reading thrillers.
A carved wooden box sits on the top shelf. And somehow, I know it's Blake's handiwork.
The shower cuts off. A few minutes later, Reid appears in the doorway—damp, clean, wearing jeans and nothing else. Water droplets still clinging to his shoulders.
"Hey." He's grinning at me. "Funny thing. Turns out, someone used all the hot water."
"Whoops?"
He laughs and does that hot guy lean in the doorway. The one where he grips the top of the door and leans forward, showing off all that skin. And the muscles. And that trail of hair that disappears into the waistband of his jeans. Do guys practice that? Do they talk about in locker rooms? However he learned it, he's amazing at it. Top marks. Top of the class.
My mouth is dry. "Hey, so—." Clearing my throat, I hold up the photo I'd been looking at—him and Blake, somewhere sunny. "You were cute."
"Were?" He crosses toward me, and my pulse kicks up. "I'm still cute. I'm adorable."
"Mm. Debatable."
"Harsh." He stops in front of me, close enough that I can feel the warmth radiating off his skin. "Snooping through my stuff?"
"Learning things about you." I set the photo down. "You read The Hobbit."
"Multiple times. Bilbo's a hero." His hand finds my hip, thumb tracing a slow circle. "What else you got?"
"Blake made you a box."
"After Jared. Yeah." He says it simply, no big emotional moment, and somehow that makes it land harder.
I touch his jaw. Still damp from the shower.
"So." His free hand comes up to trace along my jaw. "Big day."
"You mentioned."
"Just making sure it sunk in." He brings my hand to his lips, presses a kiss to my knuckles. "We were pretty great out there."
"We were okay."
"We were amazing. Admit it."
"Fine. We were moderately impressive."
"I'll take it." He's grinning, that full-wattage Reid grin, the one that makes the room feel like it has better lighting. "Tony fumbles the kit half the time. You were like a surgical assist out there. I'm filing a partner transfer request Monday."
"You can't replace Tony."
"I can dream, Laine. Let me dream." He shifts closer, and I let him, because apparently I've stopped pretending I don't want him closer. "Seriously though. Working with you today. Being a team. I liked it."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. I want more of that." His thumb brushes my cheek, and I hold still like if I move too fast the whole thing will glitch. "You and me, side by side. Whatever comes."
Side by side. Whatever comes.
