Page 253 of What We Brave
I press my lips to Laine's throat. Taste salt.
I love you.
The thought just — surfaces. No panic behind it. No asterisk. Nobut you don't deserve itchaser.
Just true.
When my legs stop shaking, I pull out carefully. She inhales — quiet, sharp — and I kiss her jaw. She climbs over me toward the bathroom and I lie there, staring at the ceiling, listening to the faucet run.
When she comes back we rearrange. She settles between us. Where she fits.
Reid's hand finds mine across her stomach. His fingers tighten over mine. Squeeze once.
I squeeze back.
You good?
I'm good.
Then we let go.
46
REID
My hand finds Blake's across Laine's stomach. I squeeze.
He squeezes back.
You good?
I'm good.
We let go.
That's it. Twenty years of friendship and we've got the whole language down to a grip and a release. Works in a firefight. Works in a hospital waiting room. Works in a bed where we just —
Holy shit.
My brain is doing that thing where it tries to process something massive by running the highlight reel on a loop. Her face when Blake pushed in. The sound he made — that broken, wrecked sound I've never heard come out of him in twenty years. The way she reached for my hand while he was inside her. The way Blake shook apart at the end like something structural gave way.
I've seen Blake take a bullet graze without flinching. Tonight a woman told him she wanted him and he shook like he was coming apart at the seams.
You stubborn idiot. Took you long enough.
Laine's breathing is slowing against my chest. Her body warm between us. One hand on my chest. The other resting on Blake's arm.
Even half asleep she's holding onto both of us.
The sheets are wrecked. I'm sticky with sweat and probably smell like a locker room and honestly, if someone told me I had to stand up right now or die, I'd just accept death.
Solid way to go, though. Reid Garrison, died horizontal. No regrets.
Blake's on her other side, his breathing still a little uneven. Coming down. His hand rests on Laine's hip like he's not ready to stop touching her yet.
I stare at the ceiling. Moonlight doing a stripe across it. My heart rate is almost back to normal but there's this hum under my skin that won't quit. Not adrenaline. Not the post-call buzz I get after a bad run. Something else.
The room is quiet.
