Page 43 of What We Brave
I don't think I ever would have. Because what Reid and I had was enough. More than enough.
Reid's expression cracks open, just for a moment. Something raw and grateful flashing across his features before he pulls himself back together.
"I know," he says again. "Blake told me. Told me everything—what he said to you, how he treated you, all of it. And I believe you. I believed you before, too, I just—" He shakes his head. "I was too stupid and too scared to really hear what you were telling me."
"You weren't stupid."
"I was something. Blind, maybe. But on purpose." He takes a breath. "You told me Blake was making you feel unwelcome, and I made excuses for him. You told me something was wrong, and I explained it away. I chose him over you, every single time, without even realizing I was making a choice."
"Reid—"
"And the worst part is, I don't even think I was choosing Blake. I was choosing comfort. Choosing the easy path. It was easier to believe you were overreacting than to confront the possibility that my best friend—my brother—was capable of hurting someone I loved."
The fluorescent lights buzz overhead. A phone rings somewhere deeper in the ER. All the normal sounds of a hospital at night, carrying on around us.
"I'm sorry," Reid says. "I know I said it the other day. I'd say it every day for the rest of our lives if I were lucky enough to have that chance. I'm sorry for not listening. I'm sorry for making you feel crazy. I'm sorry for every single time you tried to tell me something was wrong and I made you feel like the problem was you."
My throat is tight. "Thank you."
"And I'm sorry for after. The following, the flowers, all of it. That wasn't love. That was obsession, but I didn't realize it. That was me being so terrified of losing you that I became the thing you needed to run from."
"I know you've changed."
"I'm trying to." He holds my gaze. "But trying isn't the same as being different. I can tell you I've changed all I want. The only way you'll know for sure is if I show you. Over time. Through actions."
"Is that what you're doing tonight? Showing me?"
Reid's mouth twists. "Honestly? I didn't plan any of this. I came in on a call, saw you in the trauma bay, and my first thought wasthere she is. Like you were something I'd lost and suddenly found again." He shakes his head. "But I'm not trying to win you back tonight, Laine. I just miss us. I miss talking like we used to."
Used to. Past tense.
"You still matter to me," I say quietly. "That's part of why it's so complicated."
His face twists. Hope and caution and something that might be relief, all flickering across his features before he gets control of himself. I didn't mean to give him false hope. It's not like I'm going to get back together with him.
Or am I? A world without Reid in it is pretty grey. Yeah, I could continue as I am. It wouldn't always feel like this, I know. But I'll always know what I missed out on.
There I go again, assuming we could ever get back tous.
"Okay," he says. "Okay. That's—okay."
"Reid."
"Yeah?"
"Finish your paperwork. I have patients waiting."
He laughs again—a real laugh this time, the kind that crinkles the corners of his eyes. "Yes ma'am."
I push off from the doorframe, turning to leave. But something makes me stop. Look back.
He's watching me go with an expression I can't quite name. Not the desperate intensity from the fire station. Not the careful restraint fromthe hardware store. Something softer. Something that looks almost like peace.
It's a really good look on him.
"Goodnight, Reid."
"Goodnight, Laine."
