Page 71 of What We Break
Reid nods, but something flickers across his face. Relief, maybe. Or concern that I'm taking on too much. He doesn't need to worry about that. Work is simple. Work makes sense. Work doesn't ask me to feel things or deal with shit or be anything other than good with my hands.
"Actually," Reid says, setting down his mug, "I was hoping to have her over more often. Maybe not just for dinner here and there."
I take another sip of coffee, buying time. "Yeah? Like what, movie nights?"
"Maybe. Or just..." He shrugs, but there's something careful in his voice. "Normal stuff. Having her around. I didn't want to assume anything, though. This is your space too."
Right. My space. The workshop where I sleep on a busted couch because the bed in my actual room feels too much like a coffin. The kitchen where I grab coffee and run. Yeah, it's my space the way a rest stop is home.
"Reid, just give me a heads up when she's coming over. I'll make myself scarce."
"No." He says it fast, sharp enough that I look up. "That's not what I want."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean hiding in your workshop every time she comes over isn't a solution." Reid leans forward. "She's going to want to know you. Spend time with you. You're my best friend, Blake. My family."
My chest tightens. This is exactly what I was afraid of. "Look, I'm not really the dinner party type these days."
"Fuck dinner parties, asshole. Just... be around. Exist in the same space without running away."
I want to tell him that's not how this works. That I'm not good company anymore, haven't been for five years. That the last thing someone like Laine needs is my particular brand of broken hanging around, dragging down the mood. She's all sunshine and hope and fixing people. I'm sawdust and insomnia and the kind of grief that doesn't get better.
"She seems nice," I say instead. Nice isn't the word for it. She's pure light. Too bright for my fucking eyes.
"She is nice. She's also not fragile. And she's not going anywhere." Reid's voice has an edge now. "I'm not asking you to be someone you're not. I'm just asking you not to disappear every time she shows up."
The thing is, I can see what he's not saying. That he's falling for her hard. That this isn't some casual thing that'll burn out in a month. And if I treat her like a stranger, it's going to create problems between them.
Fuck.
"Fine," I say. "I'll stick around. Be social."
"You don't have to be social. Just... present."
Present. Like it's that simple. Like I can just flip a switch and be the kind of person who makes small talk and asks about someone's day without wanting to crawl out of my skin.
But Reid's looking at me with that expression he gets when something really matters to him. The same look he had when he asked me to move in here, when he said we were all the family either of us has. The look that means he's not asking for much, but what he is asking for means everything.
And the truth is, if Laine makes him this happy, if she's the reason he's been sleeping better and smiling more, then I owe it to him to try.Even if the idea of letting another person into our carefully constructed life makes my skin crawl.
"Alright," I say. "I'll be around. Just don't expect me to be charming."
Reid grins. "Wouldn't want you to strain anything."
"Good." I drain my coffee and stand up. "Now if you'll excuse me, I've got a mantelpiece that's not going to restore itself."
"Blake."
I turn back.
"Thanks."
"No problem, man."
I head back to the workshop, coffee in hand, and I can already hear Reid's phone buzzing again. Another text from her. He's probably already typing back, thumbs flying, that dumb smile back on his face.
It's not that I don't want Reid to be happy. I do. More than anything.
