Page 28 of What We Brave
"Then I deal with it." Reid's voice is firm. "That's what I should have done with Laine. When she tried to tell me something waswrong, I should have listened instead of making excuses for you. I stuck my head in the sand because I didn't want anything to change. I was avoiding the hard shit."
Her name hangs in the air between us. The elephant in the room we've been dancing around all night.
"Have you talked to her?" I ask. "Since..."
"No." Reid's jaw tightens. "She asked for space. I'm trying to respect that."
"But you've seen her. At the hospital."
"A few times." He looks away. "When I bring patients in. We're professional. Polite. It's fucking awful."
I can picture it perfectly. Reid wheeling in a stretcher, Laine meeting him in the ER. Both of them pretending they're strangers while all the hurt simmers between them. It sounds fucking terrible.
I've imagined her face so many times over the past three months. Tried not to, but it happens anyway. In the quiet moments between missions. In the dark before sleep. Her laugh. The way she tilted her head when she was thinking. The kindness in her eyes before I taught her to look at me with fear instead.
I shove the thoughts down. They don't belong to me. They never did.
"I'm sorry," I say. "For what I did. For how I treated her."
"I know." Reid is quiet for a long moment. He traces the rim of his mug. "I really fucked it up, Blake." He looks up, and his eyes are wet. "I tried. After you left... I tried everything. I begged. I promised I’d change. I told her I could be what she needed."
My chest tightens. "And?"
"She said she couldn't do it. Said she couldn't be the person who made me choose between her and my brother." He swallows hard. "She walked, Blake. I watched her drive away, and I knew it was done."
"She texted me."
"I know. She’s... she’s good. She worries." He shakes his head. "But that doesn't mean she wants me back. It just means she doesn't want me dead."
"You don't know that."
"I know her." He looks down at his boots. "I burned the bridge. I nuked it. There’s nothing left."
"But you’re still hoping."
He freezes. Then he nods, slow and painful. "Yeah. Every time the phone rings. Every time I see a shift change at the hospital. I can’t turn it off. It’s pathetic."
"It’s not pathetic."
"It feels pathetic." He looks at me, eyes searching. "Be honest. If... hypothetically. If I’m wrong. If she ever came back."
I grip my mug. I know what’s coming.
"If we tried again," Reid says, his voice quiet. "Could you handle it?"
I look at him. I try to picture it. Laine back in this house. Laine laughing in the kitchen. Laine touching Reid’s arm, kissing him, looking at him the way she used to look at me.
I want to lie. I want to tell himyes, sure, no problem.I want to be the good brother.
But he asked for honest.
"No," I say.
Reid flinches.
"I couldn't handle it," I say. My voice is flat. "It would tear me apart."
Reid closes his eyes. He leans his head back against the cushion. "Fuck."
