Page 145 of What We Brave
"Reid said you're waiting for me." She's still sitting at the table, turned in her chair to face me. "That you haven't pushed for... for sex because it has to come from me." A pause. "Is that true?"
I turn around slowly.
She looks so small in that chair. Reid's shirt swallowing her up. Hair still messy from sleep. From him. Eyes searching my face.
"Yeah." My voice comes out rough. "It's true."
"Why?"
Because I fucked everything up so bad I can't risk doing anything elsewrong. Because I spent months making you feel worthless and small and I don't get to demand anything from you now. Because if I push too fast and you pull away, I won't survive it.
"I hurt you." The words scrape out of my throat. "A lot. For a long time. I don't get to—" I shake my head. "It has to be your choice. When you're ready. If you're ever ready."
"And if I'm not? Ever?"
"Then I learn to live with that."
She's quiet for a long moment. Processing. I can practically see the wheels turning behind her eyes.
"I love you," I say. It comes out before I can stop it. Quiet and raw and not at all how I'd planned to say it again—not here, not standing in the kitchen doorway trying to escape my own want. But it's true. It's the truest thing I've got. "That's not conditional on anything. You never have to—it doesn't come with strings."
Her eyes go glassy. She opens her mouth but nothing comes out.
I try to smile. Pretty sure it comes out more like a grimace. "I'm not gonna die, Laine. I'll be fine."
It's supposed to be a joke. Neither of us laughs.
I turn for the door again. Need to get out of here before I do something I can't take back.
"Blake."
I stop. Don't turn around.
"You're not wearing a shirt."
I look down. She's right. Just sweats. No shirt. No shoes.
"It's cold outside," she adds.
Fuck.
I forgot. I actually forgot I was half-naked. That's how scrambled my brain is right now.
"Right." I scrub a hand over my face. "I'll just—yeah."
I head for the stairs. Take them two at a time. Get to my room. Close the door behind me.
Idiot. Complete fucking idiot.
Told her I loved her while running away. While trying to flee my own kitchen because I can't be in the same room with her withoutlosing my mind. Standing there with no shirt on, shaking like a junkie, telling her it's fine if she never wants me.
Real fucking eloquent, Moore.
I lean my forehead against the door. Bang it lightly against the wood. Once. Twice.
Get it together.
I push off and walk to the dresser. Pull open the top drawer. Stare at the stack of t-shirts like they're written in a language I don't speak.
