Chapter 15 #3
But I'm still holding the penguin. And the terrible truth is that I loved watching him win it for me. Just like I love watching Reid light up a room. Just like I love the way they orbit each other without even realizing it.
Stop it. You don't get to have it all.
Reid's first basketball shot bounces off the rim. His second one doesn't even hit the backboard.
Blake exhales through his nose. I hug my penguin tighter.
This is fine. Everything is fine.
Reid gives up after the seventh try. He doesn't say anything, just turns away from the hoop with this tight, forced smile that I have to look away from. Forty dollars. Zero prizes.
I'm still holding the penguin. I should have picked something small. Or handed this off to one of the little kids we passed earlier.
"Okay." He rolls his shoulders, shakes out his hands like he's resetting himself. "Maybe basketball isn't my game tonight. Let's... let's walk."
We drift away from the noise of the midway, toward the edge of the market where the river runs black and quiet against the retaining wall.
The silence between us isn't the comfortable kind we had over tacos.
It's the kind that has weight. The kind where everyone can feel it and no one wants to be the first to name it.
We stop near a railing. The music is just a low thrum from here, barely there.
Reid leans against the concrete, his gaze moving between me and Blake.
He's trying to find the rhythm again. I can see him reaching for it.
But it's gone. That easy warmth from the taco truck, the Tony story, the bickering—all of it evaporated.
And what's left is something sharp and uncomfortable that none of us know what to do with.
God, we're a mess. All three of us.
"Look," Reid starts, his voice rough. "I know tonight's been... weird. I'm trying, okay? I thought maybe if we got out, did something normal..." He trails off, frustration bleeding into his tone. "But something's off. And I can't figure out what the hell it is."
Blake shifts beside me. I can feel the tension radiating off him, his hands shoved deep in his pockets, shoulders hunched like he's bracing for impact.
Which, honestly? He probably should be. And that's not fair. I'm just as much to blame for this.
"Is this about what happened before?" Reid continues, his voice getting sharper. "Because if you're still giving Laine shit about—"
"I'm not," Blake cuts him off.
"Then what is it?" Reid straightens up from the railing, and there it is—that mode. The one where he reads a room like a set of vitals, assessing damage, looking for the source of the bleed. "Because something's been off all night, and I'm getting real tired of pretending I don't notice."
He thinks Blake is still being awful to me. He's standing there trying to protect me from something that isn't happening, and next to me Blake looks like he's about to crawl out of his own skin.
I am a terrible, terrible person.
"Reid—" I start.
"No, I want to know." Reid's watching Blake's face now, really watching, with that focused intensity he gets when something doesn't add up. "I brought you both here tonight because I thought we could move past the bullshit. I was hoping we could be normal. But if Blake's still—"
"It's not what you think," Blake says quietly.
"Then what is it?"
The question hangs in the air. Blake looks at me, something desperate flickering across his face. I can practically see the calculation happening—weighing the cost, measuring the damage, arriving at a decision that terrifies him.
I hold his gaze. Don't carry this alone. Not this time.
"Reid," Blake says. His voice is barely above a whisper. "At the camp. The volunteer thing. She was—we were outside and I—" He stops. Breathes. "We kissed."
This is the moment everything ends. Really ends. No passing go. No collecting 200 dollars. Just done.
Reid blinks once. Twice. It happens so slowly, I see the moment it hits. The betrayal.
"You..." Reid's voice is very quiet. Very controlled. "You what?"
"A week ago. I know I shouldn't have. I know it was—I fucked everything up, but I couldn't keep—"
"You kissed her." Reid repeats the words like he's running diagnostics. Testing each one for damage.
"Yes."
Reid looks at me. His face has gone still—not blank, focused. Like he's reading vitals. Assessing the wound. Figuring out how deep it goes.
It finally hits him. Not just the kiss, but that we lied to him for a week.
"Laine?"
I want to disappear. I want to dissolve into the river and never have to see the look on his face right now. But I can't. And Blake is taking all the blame when the truth is so much more complicated than that.
He's not taking this alone. Not after what I said in my apartment.
"He's not telling the whole truth," I say quietly.
Reid's face doesn't change. I didn't think it was possible, but his body goes even more still. "What?"
"It wasn't him." My voice is stronger now, because this part matters. Owning up to my own stuff matters. "I'm the one that kissed him."
Reid stares at me. "You kissed him."
It's not a question, but I answer anyway. "Yes."
Reid runs both hands through his hair. I can see the timeline clicking together in his head.
"So while I was sitting at home, hoping we could find our way back to each other..." He stops. Shakes his head. "Jesus Christ, Laine."
I want to flinch. I don't let myself.
"Reid, I'm sorry—"
"Are you?" He turns to face me fully, and there it is—the steel spine under all that warmth. The thing that makes Reid Reid. He's not falling apart. He's standing up straighter. "Are you sorry it happened, or sorry I found out about it?"
I don't know the answer. I should be sorry it happened. I should regret every second of it.
But I don't. And that makes me the worst person in the world.
"I don't know," I whisper.
Reid laughs, but there's no humor in it. Just a sharp exhale that could cut glass.
Blake steps forward. "Reid, this is on me. I shouldn't have—"
"Don't." Reid holds up a hand without looking away from me. "Don't you dare try to make this about you protecting her. She made a choice too."
He's right. We both made choices. And now we're all standing in the wreckage.
A couple walks past, laughing about something, completely oblivious. I would do almost anything to trade places with them.
"So what now?" Reid asks. His voice is rough, but he's not retreating. Not folding. He's planted his feet and he's looking at both of us like he's ready to stand here all night if that's what it takes. "What the hell am I supposed to do with this?"
None of us has an answer. We stand there in the cold, surrounded by the distant sounds of people having normal Saturday nights, and I watch Reid try to process not just what happened, but what it means.
For us. For all of us. His face moves through something I can't quite track—hurt, anger, betrayal, something else—before landing on a hard, quiet determination.
"I can't..." Reid starts, then stops. Jaw tight. "We can't talk about this here."
Honestly, that's the last thing I expected him to say. Where's the screaming. The calling me names. The banishment? All of that would make more sense than this version of calm he has going on.
Blake nods immediately. "Yeah. We should—"
"Your place," I say quietly. It's the only logical option. My apartment is too small. Neutral ground doesn't exist for us anymore.
Reid stares at me for a long moment. Then he nods once. Sharp. Decisive.
"Fine. Let's go. We're done with this shit. With fucking secrets. We deal with all of it tonight."