Chapter 16 #2
"Bullshit!" Blake shoves my shoulder. Not hard--just enough. Just enough to say I see you and you're full of it. "You love her. You've loved her from the start. I'm not taking that from you."
"And I'm not watching you disappear again!" My voice cracks. Splinters right down the middle like cheap plywood. "You think I didn't notice? You were dying, Blake. Right in front of me, and I was too wrapped up in my own happiness to see it."
"That's not your problem to fix."
"The hell it isn't." He tries to turn away and I grab his arm. My fingers dig in. I'm not letting go. "You're my brother. You're the only family I have left. And I almost lost you because I was too selfish to let you go."
Blake yanks free. "So your solution is to hand me your girlfriend? Like she's a fucking consolation prize?"
"That's not what I--"
"You want me to be happy?" He laughs. It's ugly. The kind of laugh that doesn't have a single shred of funny in it. "Then stop trying to manage everyone's feelings. Stop playing martyr. I can't watch you destroy yourself for me. I won't."
"And I can't watch you destroy yourself for me!"
We're both shouting now. Circling each other like two idiots about to throw the worst punches of their lives in a living room that's way too small for this.
"You promised Jared you'd take care of me. And you've been killing yourself keeping that promise for seven years. Putting your entire life on hold. Giving up everything—"
"Because you needed me!"
"I needed you alive!" My voice cracks clean in half. "I needed you here, not slowly fading away because you couldn't let yourself want anything."
Blake's chest heaves. His hands are shaking. Mine too, probably. I can't tell anymore.
"You want to know what I want? Fine." His jaw works like the words are being dragged out of him. "I want you to be happy. I want Laine to be happy. And if that means I walk away—"
"I don't want you to walk away!"
"Then what do you want?"
The words just sit there. Between us. Neither of us breathing right.
"I want—" I swallow. My throat is sandpaper. "I want you to stop sacrificing yourself. I want you to let yourself have something good for once in your goddamn life."
"And I want the same thing for you!" Blake grabs my shoulders.
"Don't you get it? I love you, Reid. You're my family.
The only family I have left. And I love her too—" His voice cracks.
"God help me, I love her so much it's been eating me alive.
But not enough to watch you lose her. Not enough to be the reason you're miserable. "
I love her so much it's been eating me alive.
Okay. So that should piss me off. That should absolutely piss me off. Another man just said he's in love with my — ex-girlfriend. Whatever she is. My hands should be fists right now.
They're not.
What the hell.
I keep reaching for it — the anger, the possessive territorial thing that's supposed to show up when someone says they love your person.
It's not there. It's like yanking open a drawer where you always keep something and finding it empty.
When did I clean that out? I didn't decide to clean that out.
But Blake's standing here with tears on his face telling me loving her has been eating him alive, and I just — yeah. I know, man. I know what that feels like. I know exactly what that does to you.
And apparently I can hear him say it and not want to break his jaw.
That's new. And I have zero idea what to do with it.
"You're not the only one with big feelings here, asshole. I love you both too much to watch either of you suffer!"
A sound cuts through our standoff.
Laine's snorting laugh.
We both freeze. Turn to look at her. She's got her hand pressed over her mouth, shoulders shaking.
"Laine?" I drop to my knees in front of the couch. Blake follows half a second later. "Are you okay? What's—"
The giggle becomes a laugh. Then she's full-on hysterical, tears streaming down her face, gasping for breath between waves of laughter.
"Laine, hey—" Blake reaches for her, checking her forehead like she might have a fever. "Talk to us."
She waves me off, and her whole body is shaking — not crying anymore, not exactly, but something worse. Like she's holding a dam together with her bare hands and every muscle is screaming.
Finally she wipes her eyes with both hands. Takes this shuddering breath that I feel in my own ribs. And then she looks at us. Actually looks at us. Me and Blake, kneeling there on the floor in front of her like — what, like we're begging? We kind of are, aren't we.
"Fuck it," she says.
I blink. My brain actually stutters. Laine doesn't swear. In all the months I've known her, I have never once heard her —
She cups my face with one hand. Blake's with the other.
Then she leans in and kisses me.
Soft. Slow. And so familiar it hollows me out. Her lips taste like salt from the tears, and I don't think — I just sink into it, my hand coming up to cover hers where it's pressed warm against my cheek. My thumb finds her knuckles. Holds on.
She pulls back.
And kisses Blake.
I watch it happen. Her mouth on his. The sharp breath Blake sucks in through his nose.
The way his eyes close like he's got no say in the matter, like his body just decided for him.
The way he tilts toward her — all of him, shoulders and jaw and everything — like she's the only thing keeping him from floating off and he's been white-knuckling the distance for way too long.
It should hurt. That's the thing. It should feel like getting hit.
I wait for the pain to land.