Page 93 of What We Break
Oh.
Oh, this man.
"I've never had that before," I say, my voice a whisper. "Someone who'd stay when things got complicated."
"Well, you have it now. And buckle up baby, because I'm a lot."
Laughing, I lean into his touch. Ten years of handling every crisis by myself. Every scare, every emergency, every middle-of-the-night phone call — just me and my suitcase and whatever grit I could scrape together. And now there's him, and I can't imagine my world without him anymore.
"I love you too," I whisper.
His smile widens. "Of course you do. I'm terrific."
He leans in and kisses me through my laughter. Gentle and sweet. Not a kiss that's going anywhere — just connection. His hand cups my jaw, thumb brushing my cheek, and when we break apart he rests his forehead against mine.
"You're not going to lose me," he says quietly. "No matter whathappens with your dad, no matter how long you might be gone, you're not going to lose me."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
My phone buzzes on the table. We both freeze.
My hand shoots out. Heart hammering so hard I can feel it in my teeth.
Please be good. Please.
Arrived at hospital. Dad stable, awake, complaining about the bumpy ride. Doctors running tests now. Will call in few hours with results.
The air leaves my lungs in a rush. My hands are shaking — but different now. Relief instead of dread. The phone nearly slides out of my grip and Reid catches it, reads the screen, and his whole body uncoils.
"He's okay," I tell him, even though he already read it. I need to say it out loud. "I mean, he's stable. They're running tests. He's complaining about the road."
"That's really good news." Reid pulls me into his arms, and I let myself fall into him. Really fall. The tension I've been holding for the past million hours just leaves. Shoulders drop. Jaw unclenches. Everything shakes loose at once.
"Hey," he murmurs against my hair. "Hey, it's okay. He's okay."
"Yeah." I laugh, and it sounds watery and ridiculous. "Dad only complains when he's feeling well enough to be annoyed. If he was quiet, I'd be worried."
"See? Complaining is a good sign. Very healthy." Reid's hand strokes my back. "I complain all the time. I'm basically immortal at this point."
Don't laugh. Don't encourage him.
A snort escapes me anyway. "That's not how that works."
"Pretty sure it is. Tony complains constantly and he's survived some truly stupid decisions. There's definitely a correlation."
"I'm still scared," I admit.
"Of course you are. But he's getting help now." His hand moves in slow circles on my back. "And whatever happens next, we'll handle it together."
Sitting here in Reid's arms — his heartbeat steady under my cheek, his hand on my back, the garlic soup cooling on the table — I realize I have something I've never had before. Someone who'll sit with me through the scary hours. Make me soup. Hold me while I wait for news.
Someone who loves me enough to let me go, and who I trust enough to believe he'll be here when I come back.
But I also have something to lose now. And that's new. Leaving — even for family — would cost me something.
I don't know how to hold all of it yet. The loyalty to my parents, the life I'm building, the man whose heartbeat is keeping time under my cheek.
