Chapter 13
It Goes Both Ways
Reed
"I was eight when we lost him," I said, the words coming out rougher than I'd intended. "Lucas turns seven soon. So I was only a year older than he is now."
I watched understanding dawn in Maliyah's eyes. She got it—the age parallel, why seeing that kid made my chest tight, why the thought of becoming something permanent in his life scared the shit out of me.
"I'm listening," she said softly.
I took a breath, trying to figure out where to start. It had been years since I'd talked about this—really talked about it. Not the vague version I gave people who asked about my dad being a cop. The real story. The one that still woke me up sometimes.
"My dad was a good cop. You know, his funeral drew dress blues for blocks—that’s how many people came out to show their respects.
" I stared at our intertwined fingers before letting go, dragging my palm roughly across my face like I was trying to wipe away memories better left in the past. "He responded to a domestic violence call in Southie.
Pretty routine—wife finally called it in after years of taking it. My dad was first on scene."
The memory played out in my head like it always did—grainy, like old footage. I hadn't even been there, but I'd reconstructed it a thousand times from what I’d been told and what I’d eventually read in the official report after becoming a cop.
"The guy shot him the second he opened the door. Before my father could even identify himself. His partner took the shooter down, but it didn't matter. He’d already killed my father. What was done, was done."
Maliyah reached for my knee, her palm settling there like an anchor. The heat from her hand burned through my jeans, steadying me against the tide of memories.
"I was nine when they knocked on our door. Mrs. O'Brien—our neighbor—she's the one who held me while they told us. Not my mom. Mom—she just..." I had to stop, clear my throat. "She just stood there. Didn't cry, didn't scream. Just stood there like someone had unplugged her."
I could still see it—the way my mom had looked right through the officers at our door. The way Mrs. O'Brien had pulled me against her side, her hand trembling on my shoulder. The way everything had gone quiet except for the sound of my own breathing.
"After that, it was like she disappeared even though she was still there. Weirdest thing—every morning she'd get up and make his coffee—black, two sugars. She’d put it in front of where he’d sat and just let it sit there getting cold. For years. Did it all the way up until the day she died."
"Reed—" Maliyah started, but I needed to finish this.
"Didn’t take long for me to learn how to take care of myself. I learned to make my own meals, get myself to school, all of it. She was just... gone. I think I realized years later that I lost both my parents on that day—just took another twenty years for her to catch up to him."
I finally looked up at Maliyah. Her eyes were shining with unshed tears, but she was holding it together for me. Letting me get through this.
"Every time I pin my badge on," I said, my voice rough, "I know there's a chance I don't come home.
Most days the risk is small. But sometimes it gets real.
And I can't stop thinking about what it would do to Lucas and Zoe—to you—if we got as close as we could.
If we became real—like permanent. And then I just..
. disappeared. The way my dad disappeared from my life. "
"Is that why there's always been a bit of distance?" Maliyah asked gently. "Something holding you back?"
"Yeah." I ran a hand through my hair, frustrated with myself. "I kept thinking if I didn't get too close, if I kept things casual, nobody would get hurt when I inevitably screwed it up. Or worse—if something happened to me on the job."
"Reed—"
"But I want this, Maliyah." The words came out in a rush.
"I want you. I want Saturday mornings with you and the kids.
I want to be there when Lucas turns seven, eight, and beyond.
I want to teach Zoe whatever random thing she decides is important that week.
I want all of it, even though it terrifies me. "
"What changed?" Her voice was barely above a whisper.
"You did. This did. We did." I gestured between us, trying to find the right words. "You've become so much to me. I know it's only been a few months or so since we've started seeing each other, but—"
"And to do this—with not just me, but with my kids too..." She pulled back slightly to look at me fully. "You need to be all in, Reed. Not just when it's easy. Not just when you're not scared. All the way in."
"I know." I took both her hands in mine, needing her to understand.
"I can't promise I won't get scared sometimes.
But I can promise I'll do everything I can to talk to you instead of pulling away.
" I paused, knowing this next part was important.
"And I will respect your boundaries with this Bryce thing—to a point.
Can we agree to both give a little on that one?
I'll respect your boundaries. You give by realizing I can't just turn the cop side of me off. "
She searched my face for what felt like forever. I held my breath, waiting for her to tell me it wasn't enough, that I was asking too much, that she deserved someone who wasn't carrying around all this baggage from a nine-year-old boy who'd watched his mother fade away.
"Okay," she said finally. "Yeah. I can agree to that. As long as we stay a team."
"Team," I echoed, and then I couldn't wait anymore.
I leaned in and kissed her—not gentle this time, but deep and certain.
Making a promise with my mouth that my words couldn't quite capture.
That I was done running. Done keeping one foot out the door.
Done letting fear of what might happen keep me from what was right in front of me.
When we pulled apart, we were both breathing hard.
"I don't want to go," I said, hesitant. I knew with everything that had happened with Bryce, I shouldn't leave her alone. But I also didn't want to overstep, didn't want to assume. "You know, with everything going on."
"Yeah—neither do I. You could stay," she said. "On the couch. I'd really rather the kids and I not be alone tonight."
Relief flooded through me so fast it left me dizzy. I hadn't realized how much I'd been bracing for her to say no, to tell me she needed space, that I'd dumped too much on her tonight.
"Yeah. The couch works for me." I pulled her against my chest, needing to feel her solid and safe in my arms. Her cheek pressed against my shirt, right over my heart, and I wondered if she could feel how hard it was beating.
We sat like that for a long time, talking about everything and nothing.
About my dad's funeral—the bagpipes and folded flag.
About her years in Florida. About the kids and what they'd been like as babies.
Sometimes the words came easy, sometimes we just sat in comfortable silence, her head on my shoulder, my arm around her waist.
Time melted away. I wasn't sure when we'd stopped talking, just that at some point I realized she was describing a memory and I was holding her closer, and it felt like the most natural thing in the world.
By the time Maliyah finally got up to grab me a blanket and pillow, it was past two.
My back was going to hate me for sleeping on this couch, but I didn't care.
I wasn't leaving her alone tonight. Not after everything she'd told me about Bryce.
Not with the way her hands had been shaking when we'd gotten home.
She checked on the kids one more time while I turned the camera feeds back on. Old cop habit—I pulled them up on my phone too, made sure I could see every angle. If that asshole came anywhere near this building, I'd know.
Maliyah came back and leaned down to kiss my cheek. The simple gesture hit me harder than it should have—sweet and domestic and so far from the emotional distance I'd been keeping for years.
She started toward her bedroom, then paused. "Reed?"
"Yeah?"
"Thank you. For more than I can even explain."
"Babe, that goes both ways."
I watched her disappear into her room, heard the soft click of her door closing. Then I settled back against the couch, phone in hand, camera feeds on the screen.
Something in my chest loosened, like a knot I'd been carrying for years had finally come undone.
I'd never shared what I did here tonight before with a woman I’d dated—but Maliyah was different.
I'd just cracked myself open for her, and somehow I was still breathing.
Scared shitless, but breathing easier than I had in years.
My phone buzzed—John, texting at two in the morning like the asshole he was.
John: So? How'd it go?
I smiled despite myself.
Me: Good. Really good.
John: You tell her?
Me: Yeah.
John: And?
Me: I'm sleeping on her couch. Long story. Tell you tomorrow.
John: Sleeping on her couch is not the victory I was hoping for, man.
Me: Fuck off. It's exactly where I need to be.
John: {Middle Finger emoji} Night, fucker.
I set my phone down and closed my eyes, but I wasn't sleeping. Not yet. I was listening for any sound that didn't belong. Watching for any shadow that moved wrong on the camera feeds. Standing guard the way my father had stood guard for people he didn't even know.
The difference was, I knew exactly who I was protecting. And this time, I wasn't going to let anything happen to them.