25. Reid
TWENTY-FIVE
REID
Dim light pooled along the ceiling, casting soft shadows across the beige curtain drawn halfway to the right.
A low hum from the fluorescent bulb above, the beep of a monitor off to the side.
My head pulsed—dull, manageable, but there washeaviness behind my eyes.
Someone had adjusted the bed so I wasn’t lying flat, and judging by the chill at my back, my shirt was gone, swapped out for a flimsy hospital gown.
My legs were still in uniform pants, my boots were off. One ankle was taped tight.
Riiiight, the fall.
I blinked slowly. Everything came back in pieces.
Boone shouting. The ladder shifting. That split-second drop.
And then... Ari.
The door clicked open without warning. There wasn’t a knock, or slow lead-in—just Ari, eyes rimmed pink, clutching a canvas bag to his chest like it was the only thing keeping him upright.
His shoulders were tight, mouth pressed into a line. His curls looked like fingers had raked through them over and over, not messy, just unsettled—like him.
He spotted me, and something in his face broke wide open.
He crossed the room in five steps and leaned in before I could sit up straighter. Arms sliding around my shoulders, lips brushing my forehead, then the slope of my cheek, the edge of my temple. Soft, frantic kisses like he didn’t know where to land first.
“Hey,” I rasped. “Easy. I’m not going anywhere.”
He laughed under his breath, watery and uneven, but he didn’t pull back. His chest pressed gently to mine, careful around the IV line near my elbow.
“You said it,” I murmured. “Earlier. Outside the rig.”
Ari stilled.
“You said you loved me.” I looked up at him. “Was that the panic talking? Or...?”
His eyes locked on mine, unwavering. No hint of doubt.
“I’ve loved you for as long as I remember,” he said, voice low and rough around the edges. “Had this crush when I was sixteen, but didn’t know what to do with it. Thought it would fade.”
He let out a breath. His thumb skimmed along my jaw, absentmindedly, like muscle memory.
“But by eighteen?” His voice thickened. “It didn’t feel like a crush anymore. It felt like breathing. Like I could finally exhale. With you... I was home.”
Something cracked open behind my ribs.
God, this boy.
My hand slid to the back of his neck, warm skin meeting my palm. He leaned into it without hesitation, like he belonged there.
“You really love me, baby?” My voice came out rough—too low, too hoarse—but I didn’t care.
He nodded. “Yeah.” His fingers pressed against the side of my hospital bed like he needed to anchor himself. “All of you. Always.”
Every last inch of me softened at that. The stubborn parts, the cautious ones. The part of me that had been holding back because he was Sage’s brother. The years of silence cracked wide open.
“Then you’re mine.” I brushed my thumb under his eye, catching the shimmer there. “Say it, baby.”
He exhaled, shaky. “Yours.”
“You mean it?”
“I’ve only ever meant it.”
That was it. I pulled him down gently until his forehead rested against mine, noses brushing, breath shared.
“I love you too,” I said, quiet but firm. “More than I thought I could love anyone.”
His smile trembled at the edges. His fingers found my jaw, then the side of my neck, like he was memorizing the shape of me now that he could finally touch without hiding.
We stayed like that. Close. Breathing each other in. My body hurt like hell, but I’d never felt more at peace. I nodded, but my knees didn’t feel like they belonged to me.
My legs felt useless.
His smile trembled at the edges. His fingers found my jaw, then the side of my neck, like he was memorizing the shape of me now that he could finally touch without hiding.
We stayed like that. Close. Breathing each other in. My body hurt like hell, but I’d never felt more at peace.
Then came the knock.
Ari’s eyes darted to the door. He hesitated, his body curved toward mine like leaving even for a second would undo him.
“It’s Sage, isn’t it?”
Ari nodded.
“It’s okay,” I murmured. “I need to talk to him.”
My boy didn’t move right away.
I let my palm rest over his heart. “We’re okay, baby. Promise.”
His gaze searched mine for a beat longer, then he nodded. Bent to kiss my cheek—soft, warm, lingering. His lips brushed close to my ear as he whispered, “I love you.”
And just like that, he slipped away, giving me one last look before he crossed the room.
The door opened quietly. Sage stepped in.
Ari passed him without a word, just a glance that was part apology, part plea.
Sage watched him go. Then he turned to me.
And the air shifted.
My best friend closed the door behind him and didn’t speak right away.
He didn’t have to. That look on his face—tight jaw, brows low, eyes sweeping over me like he was cataloguing every inch—said it all.
“Are you okay?” he asked, voice low.
“Concussion,” I said. “Mild. I’m mostly banged up. Doc says I’ll live.”
He exhaled, shoulders dipping slightly. “When I got the call...”
“I know.” I shifted a little, wincing as my back complained. “Didn’t mean to scare anyone.”
“Yeah, well. You did.” Sage scrubbed a hand down his face, then dragged a chair closer with the heel of his boot and dropped into it. The scrape of metal legs echoed louder than it should’ve.
“Before I even got here,” he said, voice rough, “I was halfway to calling Mom. Didn’t know what else to do.”
He shook his head, eyes dark. “Seeing you like this... it almost knocked the wind out of me.
“You’re not my keeper, Sage.”
“No, Reid, but I’ve had your back since we were, what? Nine? Ten?”
That tugged a reluctant smile out of me. "And I've got yours."
Then his gaze locked on mine. Unflinching. Intent.
“You’ve been in love with my brother for a long time, haven’t you?”
The smile died.
Just... flatlined.
My hand gripped the edge of the blanket. I felt the ridged seam dig into my palm.
“I—” The word snagged in my throat. “Didn’t think it showed.”
Sage tilted his head. “Maybe not to him. But I saw it.”
I stayed quiet. Breathing careful.
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees.
“You came to every open house. Not just the years Ari had new art hanging up. All of them. Even the ones when he didn’t show anything.”
“I remember back when we were dumbass college kids trying to figure out how to file taxes. You talked about Ari like he was made of gold. Not like someone you were into—not then. But like someone you admired. Protected. Like a kid brother you were proud of.”
“That’s what he was,” I said, voice quiet. “Just a kid. I’d pick him up from school. Helped him with science projects when you and Liz were at work. I loved him like family.”
“But somewhere along the line, that shifted,” Sage said, his voice still low. “And I don’t think you even realized it at first.”
“Not for a long time,” I admitted. “It changed... slowly. Quietly. I didn’t plan it.”
He nodded, like that tracked.
Then his voice dropped. “You paid for that summer in Florence.”
My eyes snapped to his.
“You really thought I wouldn’t figure it out?” he asked. “Mom thought it was me. Ari thought it was her and me together. But I saw your face the night he FaceTimed us from that rooftop—sunburned, excited, rambling about frescoes. You looked... proud. And terrified.”
I looked away. The wall wasn’t much to focus on, but it was easier than meeting his eyes.
“It was his junior year,” I said softly. “That summer was a game-changer for him. He didn’t know how much he needed it. But I did. And I could help. So I did. Even if he never knew it was me.”
“Because you loved him.”
The words didn’t hang between us—they hit. Solid. Inarguable. Final.
I let out a breath, slow. “Yeah. I did.”
“You still do.”
I met his gaze again. There was no hiding anymore. My voice came out low, roughened by bruised ribs and truth. “Every damn day.”
Sage leaned back in the chair, arms crossed loosely over his chest. But his expression softened, just enough.
“You hung your whole heart on him. And you tried like hell to pretend it was just care. Just friendship.”
“I thought it was enough,” I admitted. “Being around. Showing up. Making sure he was okay, even if he never looked twice at me like that.”
“He did,” Sage said. “You were just too close to see it.”
I blinked, thrown for a second. Sage knew my boy and me so damn well.
Sage gave a small shrug. “You weren’t subtle, Reid. You’ve been his shadow, his anchor, his damn guard dog for years. I knew it wasn’t about friendship the day you drove six hours to buy that specific brand of pastels because he said in passing they didn’t sell them near his college.”
My breath caught in my chest.
“He didn’t even remember saying it,” Sage added. “But you did.”
I looked down, throat tight. “You gonna tell me I crossed a line?”
His reply came slow, measured. “If I thought you were using him? Yeah. I’d have laid you out before he even looked your way.”
I braced for the hit.
But Sage’s voice changed—rough, warm beneath the weight of it.
“But that’s not what this is. I’ve never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you. Like you hung the damn stars.”
I stared at him, blinking against the burn in my eyes.
“And you,” Sage said, pointing at me, “if I had to line up every man on earth and pick the one who’d treat him right—who’d love him with everything he’s got—it’d be you.”
He stood slowly, raked a hand through his hair. Paused at the foot of the bed.
“But if you ever hurt him,” he said, voice all gravel and steel beneath the brotherly love, “I’ll wreck your pretty face. You hear me?”
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. Let a grin tug at the corner of my mouth.
“Yeah,” I said. “I hear you.”
Sage smiled back—wide, bright, and full of something like peace.
“You’re a real one,” he said. “Took me a while to figure out what he saw in you other than the guy who was his brother’s best friend, but I get it now.”
He gave my foot a light shove under the blanket. “Get some rest. You’ve got a whole future to chase.”
Then he paused at the door, one hand on the handle, glancing over his shoulder.
“Oh, and Reid?” A smirk tugged at his mouth. “If you’re gonna keep calling my little brother baby in that bossy-ass voice, at least admit you’ve been a Daddy in denial since you were twenty-two.”
I groaned, tossed a hand over my face. “You’ve got five seconds to leave before I make you detail my truck. Inside and out.”
He laughed, easy and bright. “Love you too, Reid.”
The door clicked shut behind him, and quiet settled over the room again. Not heavy. Not hollow. Just... right.
My head throbbed faintly, and my ribs would probably bark at me for days. But none of that mattered.
Ari loved me.
And I was finally free to love him back—for the world to see.