Page 102 of What We Break
"Relax," Blake mutters, hiding his grin behind his beer bottle. "I said I'm experimenting. I haven't actually managed to make anything edible. Baking's fucking hard."
Reid seems to settle at that. "If you do make something even halfway good, I get some too, right?" He glares at Blake and points a finger. "Right?"
"Fuck. Fine. If it's any good, I promise I'll share. Now shut the fuck up and watch the show."
I could get used to this. Maybe I can claim this cushion. Stitch a little plaque on it that says Laine's Spot.
When the episode ends, I don't want to leave. Don't want to break whatever this is by going back to my own place.
"I should probably head home," I say reluctantly.
"Stay," Reid says immediately. "It's late, and you're tired."
"I don't have clothes for tomorrow."
"You can borrow something of mine," Reid offers. "Come on, stay."
I look at Blake, suddenly aware that this is his space too. But he just nods.
"Stay," he echoes quietly. "Not a good idea to drive when you're tired."
Reid kisses my temple, lingering there for a moment, his breathwarm against my skin. "Stay," he murmurs. "I'll just end up worrying if you drive home this late."
"Okay," I say. "I'll stay."
From the corner of my eye, I catch Blake watching us. There's something in his expression — not discomfort exactly, but not quite comfortable either. Something I can't name that disappears the moment he realizes I'm looking.
He turns away to collect our empty beer bottles, and I tell myself I imagined it.
Later, as I'm getting ready for bed in Reid's room, I can hear him and Blake talking quietly in the hallway. I can't make out words, just the rhythm of it. Reid's laugh, low and genuine. Blake's voice, rougher but fond.
Reid slips into the room a few minutes later, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it toward the hamper. He misses, doesn't bother to pick it up, just crawls into bed beside me and pulls me against his chest.
"Good day," he murmurs against my hair.
"Really good day."
His arms tighten around me. "Told you Blake would come around."
"You did."
"I'm very smart."
"Mmhmm."
"And humble."
I laugh softly, pressing closer. Outside, I hear Blake's footsteps heading away, toward his workshop.
They sound lonely.
21
REID
Isit in my truck outside the hospital, engine off, hands locked on the steering wheel like if I let go the whole cab's gonna drift apart.
Not adrenaline. Not the usual post-shift buzz wearing off. Something older. Something with teeth. Seven years of dirt packed over a grave, and tonight the ground shifted.
