Page 226 of What We Brave
"I need to tell you something."
"Anything."
Her fingers trace some absent pattern over my sternum. Right above my pounding heart.
"I've been careful with you," she says. "With what I say. How much I show."
I know. I've felt it. Every time you pull back, every time you almost say something and don't.
"I was scared. Not of you. Of how much I feel. Because if I said it out loud and then lost it?—"
I know that math. I've been doing that math my whole life.
"I've spent my whole life leaving before things fall apart. And this — you, Reid, this house — it's the first thing I've ever been terrified of losing."
Her hand flattens over my heart. She can definitely feel it now. No hiding that. Not that I want to hide anything from her anymore. She sees too fucking much, but more than that, I don't ever want her to have to guess what I'm feeling.
"I don't want to be careful anymore." Her voice drops. Quiet and steady and certain. "I love you, Blake."
Everything just... stops.
Not the world. The bird's still going outside. The faintest hint of light's still coming through the curtains. Reid's still dead asleep down the hall.
But something in me stops. Some engine that's been running since I was nineteen — the one that saysdon't want things, don't need people, don't let anyone close enough to say those words because then you have something to lose— it just goes quiet.
She loves me.
I hoped. Figured she probably did. But I never got the words. That fucking hole in my chest just sat there, waiting. For her. For I love you.
"I've felt it for a long time," she whispers. "I should have said it sooner. You deserved to hear it sooner."
Deserved.The word snags. Because I know what I did to her. I know the things I said. I know there were months where she flinched when I entered a room, and I earned every single flinch. I don't deserve a fucking thing.
“You're a good man, Blake. You would never hurt me. I know that."
I did hurt you. You know I did.
But she's looking at me like that's not the whole story. Like the man I was back then isn't the sum total of what I am. Like she weighed everything — the damage and the repair, the breaking and the building — and decided I was worth saying these words to.
She's so fucking brave. I don't deserve her.
Take it anyway, you idiot. For once in your goddamn life, take it.
My hand finds her face. Pushes the hair back from her temple. She's stopped trembling.
"Laine." Wrecked. My voice is completely wrecked. "I?—"
"You don't have to say it back. I know you?—"
"Shut up." Gentle. Almost laughing because my eyes are burning and if I don't laugh I'm going to lose it entirely. "I love you. You know I love you. But hearing you say it?—"
Hearing you say it means you chose this. Chose me. Not out of obligation or momentum or because Reid comes with the package. You looked ateverything I am — the damage, the guilt, the nights I can't sleep, the mornings I can't talk — and you said the words anyway.
I can't get any of that out. My throat's closed. The words are all jammed up.
She sees it. Reads it on my face the way she always does.
"I know," she whispers. Presses her lips to my jaw. "I know."
