Page 114 of What We Brave
"Hey," she says, voice husky.
Every muscle in my shoulders drops about three inches. "Hey."
"You okay?"
I lean against the counter, tilt the phone so she can actually see me instead of my ceiling. "Yeah. I just... wanted to see you."
Her lips curve. "Missed me already?"
"Always." No joke chaser. No pivot. Just the word, sitting there, naked and honest. I clear my throat. "Blake just got home."
"I know. He texted me when he pulled into the driveway." She shifts against the pillow, and even through the screen I can feel her reading me. Scanning. That thing she does where her eyes move across my face like she's checking vitals. "Reid. Are you okay?"
I could lie. I could tell her I'm fine, that I spent the evening on the couch like a normal human being, that I didn't pace a groove into the hardwood until I could practically see subfloor.
But we promised honesty.
"I was worried," I admit. "I waited up for him. Cleaned the kitchen three times."
"Three times?"
"Maybe four."
She laughs — that soft, low sound — and my hand tightens around the phone like I can hold onto it. "That bad?"
"I was tempted to drive over." The words scrape out sideways, like they don't want to leave. "Park outside your building. Just... make sure."
Her expression shifts. Not fear — she's not afraid of me anymore, thank fuck — but something careful. Watchful.
"But you didn't," she says quietly.
"No." I swallow hard. My thumb drags back and forth across the edge of the phone case. "I didn't want to be that guy again." Pause. "Stalker Reid. The one who scared you."
"You're not him anymore."
"I'm trying not to be."
She's quiet for a moment, her eyes soft in the lamplight. "How do you feel? Knowing I was out with Blake tonight?"
The question lands in my gut like a fist. I take a breath. Think about it. Really think.
"I didn't love it," I admit. "Sitting here. Wondering. Not knowing what was happening." I pause, watching her face. "But now that I get to see you? Talk to you? Have some time with you?" I exhale. "I'm good. This helps."
Her smile widens, sleepy and sweet. "Yeah?"
"Yeah."
She yawns, jaw cracking loud enough I hear it through the speaker. "I'm fading fast."
"I can let you go?—"
"No." She burrows deeper into the blankets, shuffling her phone on the pillow next to her so I can still see her face. "Take me to bed with you. Tell me about your day."
I grip the edge of the counter. "Laine..." She's too sweet. Too good. Handing me exactly what I need when she's the one who should be resting.
"Please? I want to fall asleep with you."
I push off the counter and head for the stairs, keeping the phone angled toward my face. "Okay. But my day was boring. You sure you want to hear about a grease fire and a twisted ankle?"
