Page 266 of What We Brave
In this moment, it would be so easy to say yeah. To just go along with it for her. Not sure I could actually survive it though. "That's not my problem to solve."
"No. It's not. But you and me, we've walked into harder rooms than this. We've walked into rooms where people were trying to kill us and we handled it." He leans forward. "Her parents aren't going to shoot atus. They're going to be weird and religious and maybe they'll hate it. But Laine needs to do this, and she needs us both there to do it."
She needs us both there.
I look down at Laine. She's still pressed against my hands, breathing in hitches, holding on like I'm the only solid thing in the room.
You could stay. You could hold this line. This is the healthy choice. The only survivable choice.
But Laine's shaking. And Reid's right — if not now, when? She'll dodge this for another year, another five years, and the secret will just grow around all of us like a vine until nobody can move. And that's if we even survive this. Because I'm not sure I can be the secret and not fall into a fucking bottle.
And the truth underneath all of it, the thing I don't want to look at: I can't stand the idea of them going without me. Of sitting here in this house for a week knowing they're together in a place I was supposed to be.
That's the pattern. Someone needs something and you fold. Every fucking time.
I know.
They know it too.
"Two days," Laine says, lifting her head. Her eyes are swollen. She's gripping my hands so hard my knuckles ache. "Give me two days. Let them meet you. Let them see who you are. And then I tell them everything."
"And if you don't?"
"I will."
"Laine."
"Iwill. Two days. I promise."
I look at Reid. He holds my gaze. There's something in his face I don't like — he knows what this costs me. He knows I'm folding. And he's letting me do it anyway.
"This is pretty fucking unfair," I say. "You know that, right? Both of you. Asking me to walk in there and play the buddy. Like I'm back on the outside." I look at Laine. "Like I was before."
She doesn't look away. Doesn't defend herself. Just nods.
"Two days," I say. "If you don't tell them…I can't fucking live like that."
"You won't have to," she whispers. "I promise."
I nod. That's all I've got.
Laine's arms come around me and I let them, but I don't pull her in the way I usually do. Not yet.
"I'm sorry," she whispers.
"Yeah."
Reid hasn't moved. I know he's watching. Waiting to see if we're okay. Ifhe and Iare okay.
I don't know yet. I'll let him know when I figure it out.
After a quiet supper we head to bed. Normal positions — Laine in the middle, me by the door, Reid by the window. The sheets are cool. The room is dark. Everything in its right place.
Except nothing is. This ball of pain in my chest won't go away. I thought I was having a fucking heart attack, but according to my watch, my heart's healthy as a fucking horse.
It's not a physical thing. And maybe it's fucked up, but I kind of wish it was. Then I'd have an excuse to bail on the fucking trip.
Laine falls asleep first. She always does — out in minutes, her breathing evening out, her body softening against mine. Reid takes longer, shifting a few times, but within twenty minutes he's gone too. That's his gift. The world can be falling apart and Reid will sleep through it.
