Page 58 of What We Break
"It worked," Blake grumbles.
"For exactly three days," Reid counters, dropping back into his chair. "Then it sounded like a blender full of rocks. I thought we had a demon in the sink."
"Details."
"Important details! I called a priest, Blake. A priest."
"You did not call a priest."
"I thought about it. That counts."
These two are ridiculous together — the way they finish each other's sentences, the way they communicate in looks and half-gestures. It's like watching a comedy routine they've been perfecting for years. And I'm not just watching it — I'minit. They keep pulling me in. Reid checks to make sure I'm laughing. Blake catches my eye after his driest lines like he's playing to an audience of one.
When's the last time you felt this included? Not just welcome — included. Like your presence made the room better instead of just fuller.
Too long.
Blake drains his beer and pushes back from the table. "Alright, I should let you two..." He waves vaguely between Reid and me.
"You don't have to leave," I say quickly. "I mean, it's your house too."
"I appreciate that. But I've got an early call with a client tomorrow, and you probably want to actually talk without me hanging around." He stands, collecting his plate. "Leave the mess. I'll clean up later."
"Nah." Reid stands, stretching his arms over his head until his back pops. "Laine cooked, you have work. I'll handle the mess."
I shake my head. "I made the mess. I can handle it."
"Absolutely not," Blake says, already heading toward the hallway. "House rules — cook doesn't clean."
"Blake's right," Reid says. "Besides, I want to help. You can teach me more things I'll immediately forget."
"You remembered the pasta water."
"I'm counting that as my win for the year."
Blake pauses in the doorway, looking back at us. For just a second, his expression is soft, almost wistful. Something about that look makes me sad.
"Thanks for dinner, Laine. Best meal I've had in..." He trails off, shrugs. "Long time."
"Anytime. I mean that."
He nods, fingers tapping on the trim, then shakes his head and is gone.
Reid watches him go. "He likes you."
"How can you tell?"
"He used complete sentences. And he laughed. Blake doesn't laugh for just anyone."
After Blake disappears down the hall, Reid and I start clearing the table. We move easily around each other. "You two are really close," I say, running water in the sink.
"Yeah." Reid brings over the last of the glasses, setting them carefully on the counter beside me. "Closer than brothers, honestly."
I hand him a soapy plate to rinse. "How do you mean?"
Reid considers this while drying the plate with more care than it probably needs. "Blake and I... we both went to some pretty dark places after Jared died. I was isolating, drinking too much, basically trying to disappear. Blake was the opposite — throwing himself into work, taking on dangerous assignments, like he was daring the world to finish what it started."
So much pain and loss. I know death is a part of life. I see it every day. But watching a ninety year old woman take her last breath is so different from what these men went through. Honestly, I can't even imagine it.
