Page 211 of What We Break
My boots scrape against the concrete floor. Pace the length of the bench. Turn. Pace back.
I pick up a chisel, testing the edge with my thumb. Sharp. Good. I set it down. Pick it up again.
The air in the workshop is stale, smelling of sawdust and old frustration. I feel like I’m vibrating, a low-frequency hum under my skin that won’t stop.
The phone sits on the workbench. It’s been sitting there for an hour.
I grab it. Dial Hatch.
He picks up on the first ring. "Blake."
"That contract," I say. No pleasantries. "Kabul. Security detail."
"I thought you passed. You said?—"
"Is the seat open?"
Silence on the line. I can hear Hatch shifting gears, the shift fromfriendtoCO. "Transport leaves McChord tomorrow night at 2200. I can get you on it. You can help with setup before the rest of the team gets there."
"Do it."
"Blake, slow down. You said Reid?—"
"Reid doesn't need me." It's the truth, even if he can't see it. Maybe he'll fall apart if I go, but he sure as fuck will if I stay. "Just send the paperwork."
"Kid, if you’re running?—"
The workshop door crashes open.
I don't jump. I don't spin around. I just close my eyes for a second, feeling the inevitable impact, then lower the phone.
"I have to go," I say.
I hang up before Hatch can argue.
I turn around.
Reid's standing in the doorway. Breathing hard, chest heaving. Hair wrecked, face washed out under the overhead lights.
He looks like a man who just watched his house burn down.
"She's gone," he says.
She's gone.
I don't move. Don't breathe. She actually left. I knew she would. I made damn sure she would. But hearing it out loud makes it something else entirely. Something I can't fold up and put away.
Good. That was the point.
But my hands won't stop shaking. I look down at them and they're useless, trembling like they belong to someone else. There's this hollowed-out feeling behind my ribs, like someone reached in and scraped me clean.
I did this. I looked at her soft smile and her trust and I took a fucking knife to all of it. Because I couldn't stand watching Reid be happy when I wanted what he had.
Mission accomplished, asshole.
I lean back against the workbench, crossing my arms over my chest to keep my hands from shaking. "It's better this way."
Reid stares at me. For a second, I think he didn't hear me. Then he lets out a sound—half laugh, half sob.
