Page 78 of What We Brave
Finally she wipes her eyes with both hands. Takes this shuddering breath that I feel in my own ribs. And then she looks at us. Actually looks at us. Me and Blake, kneeling there on the floor in front of her like — what, like we're begging? We kind of are, aren't we.
"Fuck it," she says.
I blink. My brain actually stutters. Laine doesn't swear. In all the months I've known her, I have never once heard her —
She cups my face with one hand. Blake's with the other.
Then she leans in and kisses me.
Soft. Slow. And so familiar it hollows me out. Her lips taste like salt from the tears, and I don't think — I just sink into it, my hand coming up to cover hers where it's pressed warm against my cheek. My thumb finds her knuckles. Holds on.
She pulls back.
And kisses Blake.
I watch it happen. Her mouth on his. The sharp breath Blake sucksin through his nose. The way his eyes close like he's got no say in the matter, like his body just decided for him. The way he tilts toward her — all of him, shoulders and jaw and everything — like she's the only thing keeping him from floating off and he's been white-knuckling the distance for way too long.
It should hurt. That's the thing. It should feel like getting hit.
I wait for the pain to land.
17
LAINE
They're fighting about me. Over me. Like I'm not sitting three feet away on this couch with my hands in my lap.
"—don't get to sacrifice yourself on some altar of nobility?—"
"Maybe it is what I want!"
"Bullshit!"
I watch them circle each other, voices climbing, and something rises in me that I can't name. Not anger, exactly. Something stranger than that.
Reid wants Blake to date me. Blake refuses because Reid loves me. Reid insists he can't watch Blake disappear again. Blake shoves Reid's shoulder. Reid grabs Blake's arm.
They're both teary now, shouting about who loves whom more, who's willing to suffer more, who deserves happiness less. It's like watching two people fight over who gets to throw themselves off a cliff first while the cliff just sits there.
And nobody—nobody—has asked me what I want.
The absolute absurdity of it hits me all at once. Two grown men, red-eyed, voices cracking, screaming about martyrdom and sacrifice while I sit here like a lamp they're arguing over who gets to keep. Do Iget a say? Does the lamp get a vote? Or do I just sit here and look decorative until one of them unscrews my bulb?
A snort escapes before I can stop it.
They freeze mid-shout. Turn toward me in perfect unison.
The snort becomes a laugh. Then I'm gone—full-body, gasping, tears-streaming hysteria. My hand clamps over my mouth but it doesn't help. Everything I've been holding together for months just... breaks.
"Laine?" Reid drops to his knees in front of me. Blake follows instantly. "Are you okay? What's?—"
Blake's hand presses against my forehead like I'm running a fever. "Talk to us."
I wave them both off, trying to breathe between waves of laughter that aren't entirely laughter anymore. They're kneeling there, these two beautiful idiots, looking up at me with identical expressions of worried confusion.
Fuck it, I think. And then I say it out loud: "Fuck it."
I cup Reid's face with my right hand. Blake's with my left. And I give into my baser instincts.
