Page 118 of What We Brave
"Laine." His voice is gentle now. Real. No performance. "Talk to me. What happened today?"
"I don't —" I hiccup. "I can't —"
"Yeah you can. Come on. What happened?"
The words stick in my throat. Lodged there like something sharp.
"I lost a patient."
Reid's face shifts. Goes soft. "Oh, sweetheart."
"She was pregnant." My voice cracks. "Nineteen weeks. She came in with preeclampsia and we couldn't — we did everything but it was too fast and she —"
Another sob. Reid pulls me back against him.
"Her husband was there," I choke out. "He watched us work on her for forty-five minutes. And then we had to — tell him. That his wife was gone. And the baby."
Reid's arms tighten.
"He just... stood there. Looking at me. Like if he waited long enough, I'd say something different." I press my face into Reid's shirt. "He lost them both. In one day. Everything he had."
Reid doesn't say anything. Doesn't try to fix it or explain it or minimize it. He just holds me while I cry in a batting cage that smells like rubber and dust under buzzing fluorescent lights.
"We couldn't save them," I whisper. "I did everything right and it wasn't enough."
"That's not your fault."
"I know." I hiccup. "I know that. But knowing doesn't help. I still see his face. I still hear her monitors flat-lining. I still —"
My voice breaks again.
Reid cradles the back of my head. "Why didn't you tell me? Before?"
"Because I didn't want to ruin the date." I laugh, but it comes out wet and broken. "Stupid, right? I thought if I could just... push through. Be normal. Be fine."
"You don't have to be fine."
"I know."
"I mean it." He pulls back, hands on my shoulders. "This is what we do now. The three of us. We don't pretend. We don't push through."
I wipe my nose with the back of my hand. Gross. I don't care. At least I didn't wipe it on his shirt. Though something tells me he wouldn't have flinched if I did.
"I wanted tonight to be good," I say quietly. "For us."
"Laine." Reid's smile is the kind that makes you want to cry harder, which is really not what I need right now. "This is good. You trusting me with this? That's good."
And there go the tears again. I'm a mess. A complete, total, mascara-streaked mess.
"Come on." He takes my hand. "Let's get out of here."
"I still didn't hit a single ball."
"Next time." He squeezes my fingers. "Right now, I'm getting you ice cream."
"It's cold outside."
He just grins and starts pulling me toward the exit. "What flavor do you want?"
