Page 159 of What We Brave
What did it cost?
I stare at the floor. At Laine's bare feet poking out from under the blanket. At Blake's hand resting on her hair.
"I held Tony's kid," I say quietly. "And she fell asleep in my arms. And it was... really nice. Perfect, actually. And then I put her down and got in my truck and the whole drive home I kept thinking—" I swallow. "I kept thinkingwhat if they're going to want it to be just them? What if there's no room for me?"
Blake doesn't say anything for a minute. Just looks at me with something so raw on his face that I have to fight the urge to crack a joke. Deflect. Make it light.Ha, pretty dark for a Saturday, right? Anyway, what's for dinner?
But I don't. Because he asked. And because this is Blake, and lying to Blake is like lying to a wall — pointless and exhausting and he just stares at you until you stop.
"Come here," Blake says.
"I'm right here."
"Closer."
I lean forward. Elbows on my knees.
Blake reaches out and grabs the back of my neck. Firm. Grounding. The same way he's done a hundred times — in barracks, in trucks, in hospital waiting rooms. His hand is warm and calloused and solid.
"You are not the outside of this," he says. Low and certain. "You hear me? You're not some fucking accessory."
"Blake—"
"This doesn't work without you. None of it. Not me and her. Not this house. Not any of it." His grip tightens. "I know you think your job is to take care of everyone else. I know that's how you're wired. But you don't get to set the table and then not sit down."
My eyes are burning.Shit.
"That's..." I clear my throat. Try to smile. It comes out crooked. "That's a pretty good metaphor for a guy who communicates in grunts."
"Learned from the best." He doesn't let go of my neck. "We good?"
"Yeah." My voice cracks on it. Just barely. I clear my throat again. "Yeah, we're good."
He holds on for another few seconds. Then releases me. Settles back against the couch. His hand finds Laine's hair again.
The tight thing in my chest loosens. Not all the way — I don't think it ever goes all the way. Hasn't in 7 years at least. But enough.
Enough to breathe.
Laine stirs aboutten minutes later.
Her eyes flutter open, unfocused and sleepy. She sees me on the coffee table and her whole face changes. Softens. Something warm flooding in that makes my chest do that complicated thing again.
"Hey." Her voice is rough. Wrecked. "You're back."
"Hey yourself." I lean forward. "Heard you had a busy morning."
She blushes. Actually blushes. After everything she did today, and we did last night, she's blushing because I'm teasing her.
God, I love her.
"Blake's very thorough," she mumbles, pulling the blanket up to her chin.
Blake grins. Smug bastard.
Laine reaches out from under the blanket. Finds my hand. And then she does something that cracks me open.
She tugs.
