Page 162 of What We Break
"Because I've seen what happens when someone stays for the wrong reasons!"
The words echo in my kitchen. Too loud. Too raw.
Reid's breathing hard. His hands are clenched at his sides.
"What does that mean?" I ask. Quieter now. "What do you mean, you've seen what happens?"
He doesn't answer. Just stands there, jaw tight, looking at a spot somewhere over my shoulder.
"Reid."
"It doesn't matter."
"It clearly matters."
"Just—" He turns away from me. Grips the edge of the counter with both hands, knuckles white. "After Jared died. There was someone."
I go very still.
"She was there through all of it. The funeral. The aftermath." His voice is flat now. Distant. Like he's reading from a script. "She stayed because she thought she was supposed to. Because leaving would've made her the bad guy."
I don't say anything. I barely breathe.
"But she couldn't handle it. The nightmares. The days I couldn't get out of bed. The anger." He laughs, but there's no humor in it. "I was a lot, back then. Too much. And she stayed anyway, because she felt obligated. And then one day she just... didn't."
"Reid—"
"She left a note." He's still gripping the counter. Still not looking at me. "Said she was sorry, but she couldn't do it anymore. Said she hoped I'd understand someday."
My chest aches. He's never mentioned her. Not once, in four months.
"I'm not her," I say.
"I know you're not."
"Then why are you acting like I'm going to do the same thing?"
He finally turns around. His eyes are red-rimmed. Bright.
"Because everyone leaves, Laine." The words come out quiet. Almost resigned. "That's what people do. They stay until it gets hard, and then they leave. And I can't—" His voice breaks. "I can't watch you choose me and then regret it. I can't be the reason you gave up your life."
"You wouldn't be."
"You don't know that."
"Neither do you."
We stand there, three feet apart, the kitchen full of cold French toast and stale coffee and words neither of us knows how to take back.
"I should go," Reid says finally. "Give you space to think."
"I don't need space. I need you to talk to me."
"I can't." He's already moving toward the door, grabbing his keys from the hook. "Not about this. Not right now."
"Reid, please?—"
He stops with his hand on the doorknob. Doesn't turn around.
