Page 282 of What We Brave
I'm here. We're here.
"Bed," Laine breathes against my mouth. "Now."
She walks me backward. Reid follows. In the dark I hear him pulling his shirt over his head, fabric hitting the floor. The backs of my calves hit the mattress — thin, on the floor, barely enough for two let alone three — and I sink down. Laine is already climbing into my lap, thighs bracketing mine, hands working my buttons.
"Slow down?—"
"No." Last button. She pushes the shirt off my shoulders. Her palmsflatten against my chest, holding there, feeling my heartbeat. "I'm done being slow. I'm done being careful."
I reach for her — the instinct, always the instinct — check on her, make sure she's okay, make sure this is what sheneeds?—
Reid's hand closes on the back of my neck.
Firm. Grounding.
Stay.
"Let her have this," he says against my ear. His thumb presses into the muscle below my skull. "Let her have you."
Laine pulls her shirt off. Moonlight catches the curve of her shoulders, the soft lines of her. She takes my hands, places them on her hips, holds them there.
"You are not a secret." Her eyes are fierce and wet. "You are not a friend. You aremine."
Something breaks in me.
Not the bad kind. Not the kind I've spent years holding together. The other kind — the wall you built to keep yourself safe turning out to be the thing keeping you trapped.
Reid's hand tightens on my neck. Laine's weight settles into me.
I stop resisting.
The rooster won't shutup. Not that I can blame him for waking me. The grey light's filtering through the window and my body won't let me go back to sleep.
Guatemala. Day three.
The mattress is a disaster — all three of us crammed onto a surface meant for maybe one and a half people, on the floor, shoved against the wall. I'm flat on my back, legs on the floor. Laine is pressed into my left side, her head on my shoulder, her hand flat over my heart. Reid is on her other side, one arm thrown across both of us, face buried in her hair.
I don't move.
She called her mother crying and couldn't even speak.
That fucking thought won't get out of my head. When will that shitstop hurting? I'm guessing never. It's never going to be okay that I hurt Laine. But I have to learn to live with it don't I?
At least I do if I want to keep her. Keep them.
And she forgave me for it. Both of them did. I have to let that shit go.
Laine shifts. Burrows closer. In her sleep she makes a small, content sound — this little hum she does when she's warm enough and comfortable — and my throat tightens.
I don't know what I did to get here. But I'm not giving it back.
Reid mumbles something. His arm tightens, pulling Laine closer, and his knuckles brush my ribs. Even unconscious, the man can't stop touching. I see another conversation about boundaries in our future. Not because I actually care, but because it's pretty fucking fun to wind him up and watch him blow.
I let myself lay there and enjoy the peace for half an hour. Then I ease out — slow, careful, replacing my shoulder with the flattest pillow I've ever seen — and get dressed in the early morning light.
There's work to do.
And a disapproving Dad to wear down.
