Page 153 of What We Brave
"Do what?"
"Whatever's happening behind your eyes right now. That spiral. He chose this, Blake. He's not a martyr—he's a grown man who made a decision."
"I know that."
"Do you?"
I don't answer. Because she's right and she's wrong at the same time. Reid did choose this. He's not a victim. But Reid choosing to give doesn't mean the giving doesn't cost him, and I know that better than anyone alive.
"When he gets home," I say, "we make sure he knows. That he's not on the outside of this."
"How?"
"I don't know yet." I press a kiss to her temple. "But we figure it out. Together."
She nods against my chest.
"He's lucky to have you," she says quietly. "Both of you are lucky to have each other."
Lucky.The word doesn't fit right. Lucky is finding a twenty in your coat pocket. Lucky is making a green light. What Reid and I have—what we survived to get here—that's not luck. That's scar tissue and stubbornness and refusing to let go of each other even when we probably should have.
She relaxes against me. Lets out a long breath.
The fear is still there. Underneath everything. That voice sayingyou'll ruin it, you ruin everything good.
But right now she's here. Warm and real and pressed against my chest, her heartbeat tapping against my ribs. And somewhere out there, Reid is on his way home. To us. To this.
Right now is enough.
It has to be.
We eventually makeit to the shower.
I carry her because her legs aren't working right. She wraps around me like a koala, laughing into my neck. Am I a little proud about that?
Fuck yeah.
"This is ridiculous," she says. "I'm not an invalid."
"You can barely walk. I did that." I adjust my grip on her thighs. "Let me have this."
She doesn't argue.
The shower is too small for both of us. We make it work. I wash her hair, careful and gentle, working out the tangles. She leans back against my chest and lets me.
This.
Not just the sex—though fuck, the sex. But this. The quiet after. Soap and water and her body against mine. The sound of her breathing. The way she tips her head back against my shoulder and trusts me to hold her up.
I've never had this. Not really. Hookups that burned out by morning. Relationships that never got past the surface because I wouldn't letthem. Nothing that felt like coming home after years of sleeping in places that weren't mine.
Laine feels like home.
And that scares the shit out of me.
Because I know what I do to homes. I know what I've done to this one. To Reid. To her.
Stop. Don't do this now. Not now.
