Page 241 of What We Brave
"Bed," Reid groans without moving. "New bed. We should use it."
"Requires standing."
"Standing is the worst."
"We have a brand new bed," I point out. "Giant, expensive, extremely comfortable. And we're on the couch."
"The couch is right here."
"Blake." I poke his side. "Tell him."
Blake raises an eyebrow at me.
"Bed. Now. Both of you."
It takes ten more minutes of groaning, but we make it downstairs. The bedroom is dark, the bed a massive pale shape in the shadows. Reid hits the bathroom first, then Blake, then me. Teeth brushed, faces washed, pajamas on.
I climb in first. Middle position. The sheets are cool and smooth, and I'm pretty sure this is the mattress people sleep on in heaven.
Blake slides in on my left, nearest the door. Reid on my right, by the window. So much space — I could roll over twice without touching either of them.
But I don't want space.
I scoot toward Blake until my shoulder touches his. Reach back until my foot finds Reid's calf.
"Octopus," Reid mutters. But he shifts closer.
"You love it."
"I tolerate it."
Blake's hand finds mine under the covers.
"Hey," I say softly. "Thank you. For this. The bed, the room, all of it."
"You don't have to thank me."
"I know. I want to."
Quiet. Then, so soft I almost miss it, "I didn't think I'd get to have this."
My heart clenches. I squeeze his hand.
"Well," I whisper. "You do."
Reid's arm comes around my waist from behind, pulling me back against his chest. Sandwiched. Blake's hand in mine, Reid's arm around me, both heartbeats close enough to feel.
"Go to sleep, Laine," Reid murmurs into my hair.
44
LAINE
Iwake up to hands, and my first coherent thought iswho forgot to turn off the octopus?
That doesn't make sense. Sleep-brain. Give me a second.
Warmth. Pressure. Fingers tracing slow patterns across my hip. I'm not sure whose hand it is, and my sleep-addled brain decides this is a problem for future Laine.
