Page 43 of Discretion at Its Finest

Reid chuckled under his breath, reaching out to tug the tie from Eugene’s hands. “You’ve watched it plenty today. Megatron is gonna have to wait.”

Eugene’s hand remained latched onto the fabric as he sighed. “I hate waiting,” he mumbled. “Always, always waiting. Waiting for Grandma at the doctors, waiting for Dad to come home, waiting for him to stop working, waiting, waiting, waiting.”

He didn’t sound angry, not even sad; it was just his little thoughts, the only truth he knew, the only tired, accepted truth a little boy could hold onto when disappointment started to feel normal.

Reid didn’t answer right away. He just stared at him, a conflicted look in his eyes, processing the words I’d never heard, words that made my heart clench.

“Tell you what…” Reid began, “if you go to bed now, that new comic book coming out this week that you’ve been talking about is as good as yours. I’ll even read it to you.”

Eugene huffed, weighing the proposal like it was life or death. It probably was considering he’d been obsessed with the pictures and stories and always needed someone to read it to him since he couldn’t.

“...Promise?” he asked at last, his eyes finally finding Reid’s.

Reid reached over, brushing a curl from his forehead. “Always.”

I swallowed hard.

He said it so easily, his voice so genuine and reassuring. Eugene’s gaze lingered, his hand still holding onto the tie as they stayed there for what was probably only about a few second, but God, it looked like hours.

I stayed in the doorway, heart caught in my throat as my son begrudgingly let go of the tie. Recklessly, he slid his body off the bed head first. Reid’s foot caught his shoulder, slowly allowing him to descend safely, his face riddled with a million emotions as Eugene grabbed his emotional support toy car before jumping into bed. Reid stood, pulling back the comforter as Eugene giggled, snuggling underneath it.

My foot creaked against the floorboards and I silently cursed as I hadn’t even realized a small tear had fallen from my face. I turned from the doorway before I could break entirely.

More tears slipped free before I had the chance to stop them, and I dabbed them away, careful not to smudge the makeup I’d applied with such precise, desperate care.

For a moment, I just stood there in the hallway. Swallowing the lump in my throat and pretending it helped, I desperately tried to pull myself together. But I felt his weighted stare before I even heard the door close. I didn’t turn to meet his gaze, determined not to let him see me on the edge of it all. Ready to break.

He didn’t say anything. And then, I heard his footsteps cross the silence. His hand reached for mine.

It didn’t grab or yank as it found me. His fingers curled gently around mine like he was anchoring me. He wasn’t demanding anything. This time… he wasn’t trying to punish me.

I finally turned toward him, pulling my hand back from his burning touch that had lit a fire on the tips of my fingers.

“Sorry,” I whispered, my eyes cast down, hiding from his gaze, smoothing down the front of my dress like that would fix whatever had just unraveled in me. “I—I didn’t mean to take so long getting ready. The zipper kept catching and then my hair wasn’t cooperating—”

“Stop.”

I willed myself to look up at him. His eyes were dragged down my frame slowly like he was punishing himself just for looking. Like he couldn’t stop.

And then they snapped back up to mine.

“You look…” He didn’t finish right away, his jaw clenching. “Beautiful.”

The word landed in the pit of my stomach.

I should’ve said thank-you. Should’ve smiled, said something to ease whatever was building between us.

But I didn’t.

Because there was too much else there. Questions I didn’t want him to ask. Answers I wasn’t ready to give. And memories… so many memories, shoving their way to the surface.

I just stood there, burning alive in the silence. And then, like an opening door clicking shut, it was gone. I saw the shift in him before he took a step back, detached. Like nothing had happened and his words meant nothing.

It was subtle, but it was there… the sudden tension in his shoulders, the flicker in his gaze. Whatever he’d just let slip out had broken some rule he was trying to will himself to not cross.

Then without another word, he turned, walked past me down the hall. Back to business.

And I followed quietly. Because in that moment, after everything that had happened tonight, today, in the last three years… what else could I do?