Page 255 of What We Brave
"Obviously," I say. We are fucking awesome.
"— but this. Us. All three of us." She pauses. "I know this isn't going to be easy. The three of us — this isn't exactly the kind of thing that comes with a manual."
"I'd read that manual," I offer. "Might even follow the instructions."
"You've never followed instructions in your life," Blake mutters.
"Fair. But I'd read them. Out of respect."
Laine huffs a laugh, but when she speaks again the humor is gone. Just her voice, quiet and steady and sure.
"I know who we are. I know we're complicated. I know there are going to be days where this is really, really hard." She takes a breath. "But I've never wanted to fight for anything the way I want to fight for this. For us. Both of you."
The pressure in my chest builds. My eyes are burning.
Nope. Not doing this. Not crying. Absolutely not.
"I didn't know it could feel like this," she says, quieter now.
"Like what?" Blake asks.
She's quiet for a long moment. I feel her breathing change against my chest. Careful. Deliberate.
"Like I found the thing worth being brave for."
Fuck.
Okay I'm crying. This is happening.
A tear slides sideways across the bridge of my nose and into Laine's hair. I press my face harder against the back of her head and breathe in and my chest is cracking open and I don't even care.
Because she just —
She looked at all of it. The mess. The complication. The two broken men who come with more baggage than an airport carousel. And she decided we were worth the fight.
Not despite the hard parts. Including the hard parts.
Blake makes a sound. Low and rough and not quite a word. He pulls Laine closer and she burrows into him and I tighten my arm around her waist and press my forehead against the back of her neck and we're —
Three people. One bed. Holding on.
Nobody moves for a long time.
I listen to them fall asleep. Blake goes first — which never happens. He's always the last one down, always standing watch. But tonight his breathing drops deep and steady within minutes. Like his body finally got permission to stop.
Laine follows. She does this thing where she twitches once — full body, like a dog dreaming about chasing something — and then she'sout. Dead weight against my chest. Mouth probably open. She's definitely going to drool on one of us tonight.
Adorable. Disgusting. Mine.
47
LAINE
Reid appears in the doorway holding the lasagna pan like it personally offended him.
"This cheese is never coming off." He tilts it toward us, showing the brown concrete stuck to the corners. "It's fused. This is a chemical bond now. We should just throw it away."
"You're not throwing away my pan."
