Page 100 of What We Brave
Hey Laine. I know I spent months being cruel to you because I was too chickenshit to admit I was in love with you. And then I ran away to a war zone instead of dealing with my feelings like an adult. But I'm back now and I'd really like to try not being a complete disaster of a human being. Interested?
Yeah. That'll go over great.
Gravel crunches in the driveway.
We both freeze.
I know the sound of that engine. The slightly rough idle of an older Honda that probably needs new spark plugs. I've listened for it more times than I want to admit. Pathetic. Like a dog waiting by the window.
Reid's already moving toward the open garage door. "Is that?—"
Laine's sedan pulls up to the edge of the cracked concrete and shifts into park.
My stomach drops.
We aren't ready. We didn't call. We were supposed to have a plan, a script,something?—
The car door opens. Laine steps out.
She's in jeans and a heavy sweater under her coat, hair down around her shoulders instead of pulled back. Day off clothes. She looks softer like this. Less armored.
She also looks like she hasn't slept in days. That makes two of us.
She doesn't walk toward us right away. Just stands there by the open car door, arms wrapped around herself against the damp cold.
"Hey." Reid's voice is careful. "Everything okay?"
"I couldn't wait." The words come out in a rush. "I know you were supposed to call. I know we were going to plan something. But I've been sitting in my apartment all day going crazy and I just—" She takes a breath. "I couldn't do it anymore. The waiting. The overthinking."
I set down the nail gun. Wipe my hands on my jeans, even though they're not dirty. Just need to do something with them so I don't do something stupid. Like walk over there, yank her to me, and scare the shit out of her.
"Okay," I say. "So let's talk."
Laine finally pushes the car door shut. Takes a few steps onto the concrete pad, stopping near the pile of scrap lumber. Her eyes scan the garage—the exposed studs, the rotting frame I've been trying to salvage, the tools scattered across the sawhorses.
"What are you guys doing out here?"
"Turning it into a gym," Reid says. "Becausesomeonecame backfrom deployment looking like a refrigerator with arms and now needs somewhere to maintain his intimidating physique."
"I don't look like a refrigerator."
"You're right. Refrigerators have better posture." Reid turns to Laine. "Seriously, have you seen him try to scratch his own back? It's like watching a T-rex reach for a cookie jar."
Laine's laugh burbles up. Her eyes flick to me. Travel across my shoulders. Down my arms. Back up.
The flush that creeps up her neck is deeply satisfying.
"I hadn't... noticed," she says, which is an obvious lie.
"Uh-huh." Reid's grin is insufferable. "Anyway. Blake won't move his workshop closer to the house because he's emotionally attached to his sawdust cave, so gym it is. Once we fix the nine hundred structural problems."
Laine almost smiles. Almost. But then her expression shifts, and she wraps her arms tighter around herself.
"I can't do this," she says.
My heart stops.Here it comes. She's done. She drove all the way out here to tell us face to face that?—
"The tension," she clarifies quickly, seeing my face. "It's suffocating. Every time I think about seeing you both, I feel like I'm going to throw up. And not in a bad way, necessarily, just—" She shakes her head. "Can we just talk about the elephant? Please?"
