Page 144 of What We Brave
"You absolutely are." He grins. "It's fine. She's worth staring at."
Laine drops her toast. "Can you two not talk about me like I'm not here?"
"Sorry." I'm not sorry. "You're just..."
"Just what?"
Everything. You're everything. You're the only thing in this room. In this house. On this planet.
"Distracting."
Our eyes lock across the table.
Everything in me screams to move. To grab her. To carry her upstairs and show her exactly what I've been thinking about for months. Since the first time she walked into this kitchen.
I tear my gaze away. Stare at my plate. The eggs are cold. I don't care.
This weekend is going to kill me.
I need to get out of here. Chop down one of the dead trees at the back of the property. Run until my lungs burn and my legs give out. Anything to burn off this energy before I do something stupid.
"Fuck." Reid shoves back from the table suddenly, standing. "I forgot I promised Tony I'd help him move stuff. His wife's been on his ass."
He rinses his plate. Puts it in the dishwasher.
My brain catches up slowly.
Wait. What?
Reid walks over to Laine, crouches next to her chair. Cups her face in his hands and whispers something in her ear. Something I can't hear.
Her eyes go wide. Her mouth falls open.
Reid stands, drops a kiss on top of her head. Then he catches my eye on his way to the door.
The look lasts maybe half a second. But I know that look. Seen it a hundred times.You're up. I've got your six.
"I'll be a few hours. Have fun."
He grabs his keys and walks out.
The silence he leaves behind is deafening.
Laine's staring at me. Mouth still slightly open. Looking as stunned as I feel.
Reid was supposed to be the buffer. The safety net. The thing keeping me from losing my goddamn mind.
And he just handed me the keys and walked away.
I shove to my feet so fast my chair scrapes against the floor. Laine flinches.
Great. Now you're scaring her.
"I should—" I gesture vaguely toward the back door. "Workshop. Got some stuff to finish up."
"Blake."
Her voice stops me cold. I'm halfway to the door, hand already reaching for the handle.
