Page 34 of What We Brave
"Hi." He takes a step forward, then stops himself, and his handflexes at his side like he wants to reach for me but doesn't know if he's allowed. "I didn't—we weren't?—"
"We're just picking up supplies," Blake says, and his voice is steady, careful, a lifeline thrown into churning water. "For the garage. We didn't know you'd be here."
I believe him, I do, but it doesn't change the fact that they're both here now, both real and alive and close enough to touch, and I'm sitting on this bench trying to remember how to breathe while Reid stands there looking at me like I might disappear if he blinks.
"You look good," Reid says, and he swallows hard. "You look—God, Laine, you look?—"
I don't know what to say, don't know what I'm allowed to feel, and this is too much, both of them here, Blake beside me on the bench and Reid standing there three feet away, and I stand up too fast and the world wobbles.
"Laine—" Reid's hand moves toward me.
I step back and press my palm to my chest, trying to calm my racing heart. "I'm fine. I just?—"
The words tangle in my throat and both of them are watching me, Blake from the bench with tension in every line of his body, Reid standing there looking at me like I might shatter, and I can't do this, can't stand here and pretend I know how to handle this situation.
Reid's hand drops back to his side. He's still holding the canvas bag, knuckles white around the strap, and I can see him trying to figure out what to do—stay, go, say something, stay quiet. Blake hasn't moved from the bench, but the careful distance he'd maintained is gone. Now he's coiled, tension radiating off him in waves.
"We should—" Reid starts, glancing at the hardware store entrance where people are still navigating around us. "Maybe we should move. There's a—there's that little park. Two blocks over."
"No." The word comes out too sharp. I don't want to go anywhere with them. I don't want to be here at all. But my purse is in my hand and my feet aren't moving and apparently my body hasn't gotten the message that we're leaving.
"Okay." Reid nods too quickly. "Okay, we can—we can just talk here. Or not talk. Whatever you?—"
"Reid." Blake's voice cuts through. "Give her a second."
He nods, bouncing on his toes. He's trying, I'll give him that, but the words bubble up anyway. "Blake doesn't know," he blurts. He's looking at me now, something desperate in his expression. "About after. What I did."
Blake's head turns sharply. "What are you talking about?"
Reid's jaw works. "I didn't tell you everything. About what happened after Laine and I broke up."
"Reid—" I start, but I don't know how to finish the sentence.
"I need to say this." Reid's voice is rough. "I scared her. After we broke up. I showed up at the hospital. Multiple times. I sent texts. Too many texts. I waited in the parking lot." He stops, swallows hard. "Bad enough that Joyce had to intervene. Bad enough that security got involved."
The parking lot feeling floods back—that hypervigilance, checking over my shoulder, the weight of my phone constantly buzzing, the flowers I stopped bringing inside because seeing them made my stomach turn.
But just as quickly, they fade away. That's not Reid. I know that. Or it was, but the fragile, broken part of him that did all that. And I'm not angry about it. Not hurt. Just a little sad that both of us were so shattered.
Blake stands up.
The movement is sharp, sudden, and when I look at him his face has gone hard in a way I haven't seen since the workshop, since the night everything fell apart. Reid and I might be at peace with what happened, but clearly Blake has some feelings.
"Security," Blake repeats, his voice dangerously quiet.
"I was drowning," Reid says. "You were gone and she was gone and I?—"
"So you made her afraid to go to work?" Blake takes a step toward Reid and I can see the effort it's costing him to keep his voice level. "You scared her?"
"I know. I stopped as soon as Joyce?—"
"As soon as Joyce had to tell you?" Blake's hands are clenched at his sides. "You didn't figure it out yourself? You didn't notice she wasscared?"
"Stop." The word comes out in a crack. "Both of you, just stop."
They both turn to look at me.
"I don't need you to be angry for me, Blake." My voice is shaking but I keep going. "I don't need you to defend me. I was there. I lived through it. And Reid and I already talked about this."
