Page 99 of What We Break
"You'd probably like them, actually," I say. "They appreciate good craftsmanship."
"Maybe we'll meet them someday," Reid says, then catches himself. His hand tightens briefly on my knee. "I mean, if they ever visit Oregon..."
The casual mention of a future where my parents meet Reid — meet both of them — and suddenly I want that. Desperately. I want them to see what I've built here. How good it is.
I glance at Blake to see his reaction, but his face gives nothing away. "They'd love you both," I say. "Dad would probably try to recruit you for his next church build."
Blake snorts. "I don't think missionary work is in my skill set."
"I don't know," Reid grins, leaning back in his chair and stretching his arms over his head. "You've got the self-sacrifice thing down. Remember when you spent three straight days hand-sanding that mantelpiece?"
"That was different. That was for the client in Seattle who paid me obscene money to?—"
"Three days," Reid repeats to me, completely ignoring Blake's protest. He's fully animated now, gesturing with his chopsticks. "Barely ate, slept in the workshop. I had to physically drag food to him like he was a feral cat I was trying to domesticate."
"I'm not a feral cat."
"You hissed at me when I woke you up."
"I did not hiss."
"You made a sound. It was hiss-adjacent." Reid turns to me, delighted. "He's like a grumpy raccoon when he's in the zone. All hunched over his work, growling at anyone who interrupts."
"I don't growl," Blake says in something very close to a growl. I have to hide my laugh behind a little cough. Reid catches it though,and judging by that devilish grin, it just encourages him to keep going.
"You definitely growl."
Blake looks at me, almost pleading. "I don't growl."
I hold up my hands. "I'm staying out of this one."
I watch them volley back and forth, Reid's whole body animated while Blake tries to maintain his stoic facade and fails. Reid keeps reaching over to poke Blake's arm, steal food from his container, invade his space in ways that would annoy anyone else but seem to just make Blake's mouth twitch toward a smile.
When did I stop feeling like an audience to this? Because somewhere between the tiling and the spring rolls, I stopped watching their friendship and just... ended up in it.
Reid catches me watching and winks. His hand finds mine under the table, fingers interlacing.
"What about you, Laine?" Blake asks, and there's genuine curiosity in his voice. He's leaning forward slightly, forearms on the table, actually engaged in a way he hasn't been before. "Ever think about doing construction full-time instead of nursing?"
Reid's eyebrows shoot up. Blake voluntarily extending a conversation. His thumb strokes across my knuckles once, twice.
Who would have thought he was funny? I really like this side of him. "No, never. I like fixing people more than fixing buildings."
"Same result, though," Reid points out. "Making something broken whole again."
"I suppose." I consider it. "But people are more complicated. More rewarding when you get it right."
"And more devastating when you can't help them," Blake adds quietly.
Something passes between them. Reid and Blake, trading a look I can't read. Loaded. Heavy with whatever they carry that I don't.
Reid's hand tightens on mine. Not deliberate — more like a reflex. Like his body forgot to ask permission.
Blake's jaw locks up for half a second. Then he smooths it out, quick, like he's had practice.
Military stuff, probably. Things they've seen. Things I haven't. Jared, maybe. The brother they both lost and neither one talks about.
I want to ask. But what right do I have to pry open that door? People get to share that stuff when they're ready. Not when I'm curious.
