Page 194 of What We Break
God, she cuts right to the heart of it, doesn't she?
"I'm not—" But I can't finish the sentence because she's right. I am making myself smaller. Quieter. Less likely to trigger Blake's coldness or the horrible, horrible things he says. I made a few excuses to avoid going over there since he blew up at me, but I still had to sit through one evening with Blake. He didn't say anything mean. He barely acknowledged me. And I still felt like I was going to throw up the whole time.
"Can I ask you something?" Joyce doesn't wait for an answer. "When you're with Reid, just the two of you, how do you feel?"
"Happy." That's easy. "Like myself. We laugh and talk and it's just... easy."
Joyce takes a sip of her coffee. "You know Reid talks to me when he drops off patients, right? The man doesn't have an internal monologue. Everything's external."
I smile a little. "I know."
"He talks about you like you hung the moon," Joyce says. "But he also talks about his house. And that roommate. The woodworker he served with."
My stomach tightens. I stare at the swirl of cream in my cup.
"He makes it sound like a package deal," Joyce observes quietly, her eyes sharp. "The three of you. He thinks it's this big, happy, blended family. But I've been around long enough to know those transitions are rarely smooth." She leans forward slightly. "So I'll ask again. When you're at his place... with the roommate... how do you feel?"
I hesitate. I don't want to say it out loud. If I say it out loud, it makes it real.
And of course, Joyce picks up on it.
"Different?" she prompts.
"His roommate—Blake—and I don't really click." Understatement of the year. "Blake's... he's been through a lot. Military stuff, like Reid. He's not great with new people."
Her brow furrows. ”How long have you been dating Reid?"
“Five months."
"That's not very new anymore."
No. It's not. Not at all.
"He just needs more time," I hear myself say. The same thing Reid always says.
Joyce sets down her cup with a soft click. "Laine, can I be direct with you?"
"Do you know how to be anything other than direct?"
That gets a small smile. "Fair point. Okay, here it is: In healthy relationships, you don't have to monitor yourself constantly. You don't have to make yourself smaller. You don't have to walk on eggshells in your boyfriend's home."
"It's not Reid's fault?—"
She makes a low sound. Not dismissive. Patient. "I didn't say it was. But honey, whatever the dynamic is there, it's affecting you. I can see it. You're not singing in the supply closet anymore. You're not telling your terrible jokes. You're going through the motions perfectly, but the spark is missing." She raises a brow. "Unless I'm totally off the mark and something else is bothering you?"
My stomach’s churning, but I take a sip of coffee anyway, just to buy myself time.Don't puke. Don't puke.
"You're bang on the mark as usual Joyce." My head hurts. "Blake'snot a bad person," I say quietly. "He helps at the Pine Street camp, works with veterans. He's just..."
"Cruel to you?” It’s a question, but she hit the nail on the head again. Blake is cruel. Cutting. Hateful.
But I don’t want to tell her that.
"Not cruel. Just..." I trail off, thinking about the truck. Thinking about him telling me I'm just playing house. That was cruel. There's no other word for it. So why do I want to keep defending him? "He's honest. He thinks I'm bad for Reid, and he makes sure I know it."
"Bad for him? You?" Joyce scoffs. "That man needs glasses."
"He thinks I'm temporary. A flight risk." Those words are still like little daggers. That's not me. It hasn't been in months. I'm in this thing. I'm fighting for it.
