Page 158 of What We Brave
"That's not why you were circling."
"Blake—"
"Tell me."
His voice is quiet. Not demanding. Just... certain.
I run both hands through my hair. Blow out a breath. My knee is bouncing hard enough to shake the coffee table.
"I don't know how to—" I stop. Start again. "It's not jealousy. I need you to know that. I'm not jealous."
"I know you're not."
"It's just—" I gesture vaguely at the two of them. At the blanket and the wavy hair and the peaceful look on his face that I've never seen before. "You look like that. And that'sgood. That's what I wanted. Seeing you like this — Blake, I've wanted this for you foryears."
"But?"
But I spent four hours at Tony's house holding someone else's baby and wondering if I just arranged myself out of my own family.
The thought forms clearly. Sharply. And I almost say it.
Almost.
"But nothing." I force a grin. "Seriously. I'm good."
Blake stares at me for a long time. Long enough that I have to look away.
"You remember what you were like after Jared?" he says quietly.
My stomach drops.
Blake kicked in my door.
Not metaphorically. Actually kicked it in. Walked into my apartment, looked around at the wreckage of my life, and didn't leave. Not that night. Not the next day. Not for weeks. He just... stayed. Slept on my couch. Made me eat. Sat in silence when I couldn't talk and talked when I couldn't handle silence.
That's how we ended up here. In this house. Together. Not because of some plan. Because Blake Moore broke down my door and refused to go home.
"Blake, don't?—"
"You told me you were fine." His voice is level. Not cruel — just factual. "Every single day.I'm good, Blake. You don't have to stay. I'm handling it."
My jaw clenches.
"And every single day I looked at you and I knew you were full of shit." He tilts his head. "Sound familiar?"
Fuck.
"That was different?—"
"How?" His eyes are steady. That immovable Blake thing that makes me want to punch him and hug him simultaneously. "You set this up for us. You walked out that door so I could have this morning. And I love you for it. But I'm not gonna sit here and watch you do what you always do."
"Which is what?"
"Pretend like shit isn't hard. Tell me you're fine." His jaw works. "I kicked down your door once, Reid. I'll do it again. Every time. So don't make me guess — what did it cost?"
The question sits in the air between us.
My knee stops bouncing.
