Page 182 of What We Break
Reid's quiet for a long moment. I can feel him studying my back, trying to read me the way he's always been able to. We've been through too much together for secrets.
Most secrets.
"Is it the anniversary?" he asks finally. "Jared's coming up. I know that always hits you hard."
The out is right there. Easy. And not even a complete lie.
"Yeah," I say. "Maybe that's it."
"You could have told me. I get it, man. I do."
I turn around. The concern on Reid's face is almost worse than suspicion would be. He's worried about me. He loves me. And I'm standing here letting him believe something that's only half true.
But fuck if I'm going to tell him the rest of the truth. "I know you do."
"So come to dinner tonight. Laine's making that chicken thing you like. The three of us, just hanging out. It'll be good for you."
Another fucking dinner. Would it kill them to go out once in a while? They're fucking hermits. My stomach clenches. "Reid?—"
"Please." He steps closer. "She thinks you hate her. She's trying so hard, and you keep shutting her out. I need you two to get along."
She thinks I hate her.
Good. That's what I wanted.
So why does it feel like someone rammed a spike in my chest?
"I don't hate her," I force out through the gravel in my throat.
"Then prove it. Dinner. Tonight."
I should say no. Make up another excuse. Find another way to avoid sitting across from her while Reid watches us with those fucking puppy dog eyes.
But Reid's looking at me like I'm breaking his heart, and I just can’t do it.
"Fine. Dinner."
His face breaks into a grin. "Yeah? Awesome. She'll be so happy." He claps me on the shoulder. "Thanks, man. I know it's been an adjustment, having her around so much. But she's the one, Blake."
The one.
"That's great," I manage. "I'm happy for you."
Reid heads off, and I stand in the kitchen holding coffee I no longer want.
She's the one.
I know she is. That's the whole fucking problem.
I'm fucking drowning.
Laine made the chicken—the one with the crispy skin and lemon that Reid won't shut up about. She's wearing a blue sweater that makes her eyes look stunning. Reid sits between us, oblivious, shoveling food into his mouth and talking about a call from last week.
I eat. I nod. I answer questions in as few words as possible.
"Blake, you want more?" Laine's holding the serving dish out to me, and I have to look at her, have to meet those eyes.
"I'm good."
