Page 101 of What We Brave
I exhale. Didn't realize I'd been holding my breath.
Reid moves closer to her. Not crowding. Just closing some of the distance. "Yeah. Probably should."
Laine takes a breath. Squares her shoulders like she's bracing for a hit.
"I've been thinking. A lot. I talked to Jamila about it for hours. Drank too much. Layed on her floor like a crime scene outline." A weak laugh. "And I think—" Another breath. "I think I want to try this. The three of us. For real."
The words hang in the cold air. I don't move. Don't trust myself to move.
"You're sure?" I ask. It comes out rough. Rough and desperate and I hate how obvious I am.
"No." She laughs, but it's shaky. "I'm terrified. But I'm also tired of being scared. And when I imagine walking away from both of you..." She shakes her head. "I don't want that. I want to see what this could be."
Reid exhales hard, his breath pluming white. "I'm in. You know I'm in."
They both look at me.
I should say something. Something better than what's about to come out of my mouth. I've never been good with words. Gramps used to say I had a poet's soul and a mute's tongue. Load of shit, but the second part's accurate enough.
"Yeah." The word scrapes out like I'm dragging it over gravel. "I want this. More than I know how to say."
Brilliant. Real fucking eloquent.
The rigid tension in Laine's shoulders eases. Just slightly. Just enough that I notice.
"Okay." She exhales. "Okay. So we're doing this."
"So we're dating," Reid says, a grin breaking across his face. "All of us."
"Starting slow," Laine says firmly. "I mean it. Dating. Getting to know each other again. No pressure to figure everything out immediately."
"I can do slow," Reid says. "I'm excellent at slow."
"You're the least slow person I've ever met."
"Slow-ish. I can do slow-ish."
Laine shakes her head, but she's fighting a smile. Then she looks at me, and the smile fades into something more serious. More guarded.
"Blake and I need some one-on-one time. We haven't had the chance to build anything yet. Not really."
Reid nods. "Makes sense."
"You're okay with that?" she asks him.
"I'm not saying it won't be weird." He shrugs, shoving his hands deeper into his jacket pockets. "But you're right. You two need space to figure out what you are. Without me hovering."
I've wanted time alone with her since the first night Reid brought her home. The idea of actually having that—her attention, her focus,without guilt or secrecy—feels too big. Too fragile. Like holding a bird in my hands and knowing I could crush it without meaning to.
"I'd like that," I manage. "A lot."
Laine nods, then looks around the garage again. Avoiding eye contact. Delaying.
I can't let her delay. Not with this question burning a hole in my chest. The one I've been carrying since I got back. Since before I left. Since the night I destroyed everything and watched the fallout from eight thousand miles away.
"Laine."
She looks up.
