Page 5 of What We Brave
I know this is fucked up. I know it is. But I can't seem to stop myself.
Week Seven
I waitoutside her yoga studio on Thursday evening. I don't go in—that would be crossing a line. But I sit in my truck across the street, watching people file out after class.
I shouldn't be here.Put the truck in drive, Reid. Step on the gas. Go home.But my foot won't move. My hands are locked on the steering wheel, knuckles white. I'm a pathetic, broken mess, but if I can just see her walk out of that door smiling, maybe I can breathe for the next twenty-four hours.
She emerges with an older woman I've never seen before. They're talking and laughing, and for a moment, Laine looks like herself again. Happy. Relaxed.
Then she sees my truck.
The change is instantaneous. Her whole body tenses. She says something to her friend, who follows her gaze to where I'm parked. Even from this distance, I can see the other woman's disapproving expression.
Laine pulls out her phone. For a wild moment, I think she might be calling me. Then I realize she's probably calling someone else. For help. For protection.
From me.
I drive away before I can find out, my hands shaking on the steering wheel. I don't recognize the man I'm becoming, and it's fucking terrifying.
Week Eight
Joyce cornersme outside the ER on Tuesday morning. I'm bringing in chest pain—routine call, stable patient. I should have been in and out in ten minutes, but I've been lingering, hoping for another glimpse of Laine. I don't understand why I can't just let her go. I love her. That's never going to change. And I sure as fuck don't want to scare her. But getting a glimpse of her face is the only time in my day that I don't feel like I'm drowning.
That darkness is growing, and it's getting harder and harder to fight it off.
"Reid. We need to talk."
Her tone makes my stomach drop. Joyce has been a friend for years. She was one of the first people to welcome me when I started bringing patients here.
"Is it about the patient? Did I miss something in my assessment?" God. Why do I even bother playing dumb?
"It's about you lurking around my unit like a lost puppy."
The word 'lurking' again. It makes me flinch.
"I'm not lurking. I'm doing my job." Again with the dumb. Why can't I move the fuck on?
"Your job doesn't require you to hang around for thirty minutes after dropping off a patient. Your job doesn't require you to time your calls to coincide with Laine's shifts."
Heat floods my cheeks. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Don't." Her voice is sharp. "Don't lie to me. I've been watching you for two months, Reid. This isn't normal behavior."
"I love her."
"No." Joyce steps closer, and I'm struck by how small she is. How did I never notice that before? "This isn't love anymore. This is panic. You're bleeding out, Reid, and you're trying to use that girl as a tourniquet."
The medical metaphor hits me harder than a slap. "I'm trying to fix things. I'm trying to show her?—"
"You're scaring her."
The words hit me like a physical blow. "What?"
"She jumps every time the elevator dings. She checks the parking lot before leaving. I caught her looking at help wanted ads out ofstate." Joyce's expression softens slightly. "She's afraid to come to work, Reid. Her own workplace."
My knees nearly give out. I am such a piece of shit. "I never... I wouldn't hurt her. I'm the one who protects her."
"Not anymore," Joyce says, and her voice is brutally quiet. "Right now? You're the thing she needs protection from."
