Page 163 of What We Break
"Figure out what you want," he says. "Really want. Not what you think you should want, or what would make me happy. Whatyouwant."
"And what if what I want is you?"
He's exhales heavily. When he speaks, his voice is barely above a whisper.
"Then I need to know you're not going to wake up in five years and realize you made a mistake."
The door opens. Closes.
I stand in my kitchen, alone.
The French toast is still sitting on the counter. Cold now. Congealed syrup.
Everyone leaves.
Is that what he really thinks? Is that what five years of grief and one woman's note taught him?
I think about calling him. Going after him.
I don't.
Instead, I pick up the plate of French toast and scrape it into the trash. Wash the plate. Dry it. Put it away.
Busy hands. Quiet mind.
It doesn't work.
There was someone.
He never told me. Four months of lazy Saturdays and midnight conversations and falling asleep tangled together, and he never once mentioned her.
What else hasn't he told me?
I lean against the counter, right where he was standing. Try to imagine what it felt like to be him—twenty-something, grieving his brother, and the person who was supposed to love him just... left.
Has he been waiting for me to leave since the day we met?
My phone buzzes. For one wild second, I think it's him.
It's Dr. Parker. A follow-up email.So wonderful to talk! Here's the info we discussed. Can't wait to hear your decision.
I don't open it.
Instead, I sit down at my kitchen table, in the chair Reid was sitting in an hour ago, and I try to figure out what the heck I actually want.
33
REID
"You've been quiet all shift," Tony says as we pull away from the hospital. "Everything okay?"
I stare out the passenger window at the afternoon traffic. We just dropped off a cardiac patient who's probably going to be fine—chest pains that seem to be more about anxiety than a heart attack. Should have been a routine call, but I've been distracted all day.
"Yeah, I'm fine."
"Bullshit." Tony glances at me while we wait at a red light. "You've said maybe ten words since we started this morning. And you've been checking your phone every five minutes."
Have I? I pull out my phone and look at the blank screen. No messages from Laine. Not that I expected any. I told her to figure out what she wants, not to update me on her thought process. But I guess I hoped she'd come running after me. I think I wanted her to jump into my arms and tell me she chooses me. That our relationship is the only thing that matters.
