Chapter 18
BLAKE
Hope is a fucking dangerous thing.
I learned that in Kandahar, watching guys count down days until deployment ended. The ones who let themselves believe they'd make it home got sloppy. Careless. Hope made them stupid.
And now it's flooding through me like poison, warm and terrible, because Laine is sitting three feet away talking about choosing me. About giving this impossible thing a real shot.
My hands won't stop shaking.
"Blake?" Reid's watching me. "You still with us?"
"Yeah." The word comes out hoarse. "Just... processing."
Processing. Like this is something I can think my way through. Like every wall I've spent ten years building isn't coming apart right now while I sit here pretending I'm fine.
Laine tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. That thing she does when she's nervous. I didn't mean to memorize it.
But I did. Just like I memorized every moment I spent near her.
I want to tell her everything. That I've thought about this more times than I can count. Not the all three of us stuff. But her and I. That some nights in Afghanistan I'd lie there in the dark and build this exact moment in my head — her, looking at me the way she's looking at me now.
But I don't deserve this.
Any of it.
The thought lands and my whole body goes still. No air. Just that one sentence sitting in the middle of my skull, daring me to argue with it.
I spent months systematically destroying her. Called her pathetic. Desperate. Nothing special. Watched her shrink smaller every time I opened my mouth and kept going anyway, because I was too much of a coward to face what I actually felt.
She just told me she still braces herself around me. Still waits for the cruelty to come back.
And I'm supposed to — what? Accept her offer like I've earned it? Like I'm not the one who made her feel crazy in her own relationship?
"I can hear you spiraling," Laine says quietly.
My head snaps up. "What?"
"Your jaw's doing that thing. The clenching." She waves vaguely at her own face. "You're disappearing into your head."
Reid shifts in his chair. "She's right. You've got that look."
That look. So much for being fucking unreadable.
"I just —" I stop. Start again. "I don't understand why you'd want this. With me. After everything."
Laine's expression softens into something that makes my head pound. "Blake—"
"No, listen." I'm on my feet before I realize I've moved, pacing the length of the room. "You said it yourself. I made you feel like you were losing your mind. For months. I looked you in the eye and said things designed to break you, and now you're sitting there offering me a chance like I'm not—"
"Like you're not what?" she interrupts.
The words stick in my throat.
Like I'm not broken. Poison. The kind of person who destroys everything he touches.
"Like I deserve it," I finally manage. "I don't."
The room goes quiet. Reid's watching me with that worried crease between his eyebrows.
Laine leans back and quirks an eyebrow. "You don't get to decide that, Big Guy."
My blood's pounding so hard her words honestly don't compute. "What?"
She stands, crossing the distance between us until she's close enough that I can smell her shampoo.
Coconut and something floral. The scent I've tried to forget for months.
The surface scent is always changing. I've spent too much time wondering why.
Maybe she buys whatever's on sale. Maybe she gets tired of one smell, and moves on.
I want to know the reason why. I want to have the right to ask.
But underneath the surface, there's something just Laine. That's the scent that haunts my fucking dreams.
"Whether you deserve a chance. That's not your call." Her chin lifts and suddenly she's wearing a bossy expression I could totally picture her using at work. Having it directed at me though? I like it too fucking much. "It's mine. And Reid's. And we're both sitting here saying we want to try."
She's trying to make everything better. But this isn't some fucking fairytale. The shit I did won't go away. "You shouldn't."
"Probably not." She almost smiles. "But I'm tired of should. I spent my whole life doing what I should. Moving when I should. Leaving when I should. Playing it safe."
"This isn't safe," I warn her.
"No," she agrees. "It's terrifying. But so is watching you walk away again." Something shifts in Laine's expression. The softness hardens into steel. "You know what? No." She crosses her arms. "I'm done with this."
Reid and I exchange a glance. "Done with what?" he asks.
"This." She gestures between us. "The martyrdom contest. The self-flagellation Olympics. Both of you falling over yourselves to prove who's more unworthy."
"Laine—"
"I'm talking." Her voice cuts sharp enough to make me flinch.
My dick does a completely inappropriate happy twitch.
Something about her yelling at me really does it for me.
Not the yelling from before, when she was hurt and lashing out.
But this bossy yelling? I'm here for it.
"For months, I've been the one accommodating.
The one tiptoeing. The one trying to make everyone else comfortable while I shrink into nothing.
And now—now—when I finally say what I want, you're both too busy competing over who gets to sacrifice themselves? "
She's pacing now, all coiled energy and frustration. I've never seen her like this. Not the careful, measured Laine who weighs every word. This is someone new. Someone furious.
She's a fucking warrior.
"I want this," she says. "Both of you. Is that so hard to understand?"
"It's complicated," Reid starts.
"Everything's complicated!" She throws her hands up. "Life is complicated. Love is complicated. But you know what's simple? I'm tired. I'm tired of not getting what I want because other people think they know better."
She rounds on me. "You think you don't deserve happiness? Fine. Believe that. But don't you dare use your guilt as an excuse to take my choice away."
My mouth opens but I can't seem to get anything out. Probably smarter to shut the fuck up anyway.
"And you." She turns to Reid. "Stop trying to be noble. Stop offering to step aside like that makes you some kind of hero. It doesn't. It just makes me feel like a burden you're trying to pass off."
Reid looks like she slapped him. "That's not—I didn't mean—"
"I know what you meant." Her voice softens, just slightly. "But I'm done being the thing people sacrifice for. I want to be chosen. Actually chosen. By both of you."
The room feels smaller suddenly. Charged.
"Think about it," she continues. "Really think. Reid, you work insane hours. You come home exhausted, barely functional. Who takes care of you when I'm on shift?"
Reid glances at me. I look away.
"Blake, you disappear into that workshop for days. You forget to eat. You spiral. Who pulls you back when Reid's not there?"
My jaw tightens. She's not wrong.
"We could take care of each other." Laine's voice drops, losing some of its edge. "All of us. Instead of this—this constant rotation of worry and guilt and wondering who's falling apart alone."
"It's not that simple," I manage. Though she makes it seem pretty fucking appealing. But she didn't add the last bit. The bit that lights me up and scares the shit out of me.
I'd get to take care of her.
Having the right to fuss over her, comfort her, hold her is so damn tempting.
"Why not?" She steps closer. "Because society says so?
Because it's unconventional? I spent my childhood building churches in countries where arranged marriages were normal.
I've seen relationships work in a hundred different configurations.
" She frowns. "Okay, maybe not a hundred.
But lots. I really think that the only thing that matters is whether everyone's honest."
Reid rubs his face. "People would talk."
"People already talk. I filed a harassment report against my boyfriend. Blake deployed to Afghanistan to escape his feelings. We're not exactly winning at normal."
Despite everything raging through me, I laugh. "You're not fucking wrong."
Laine's eyes find mine. "I'm not saying it'll be easy. But I'm saying I want to try. Both of you. Together. And I'm tired of pretending that's not an option just because it scares you."
Laine's shoulders drop. Some of the fight drains out of her.
"I had dreams too," she says quietly. "I loved getting to be part of your family. Even when I was on the periphery. I loved cooking in your kitchen. Fixing that bathroom. Feeling like I could actually be a part of everything."
Her voice cracks. Reid shifts forward, but she holds up a hand.
"Building something real—having a family and roots—that's what I wanted. What I still want." She looks between us. "Possibly with both of you."
The hope in her eyes is gutting me.
"But I can't make promises," she continues. "None of us can. Maybe this falls apart in three months. Maybe we figure it out and it works for years. Maybe—" She pauses. "Maybe it's the best thing that ever happened to us. I don't know."
Reid's hands are clasped between his knees. Tight enough his knuckles have gone white. Is he considering this? She hates the word sharing, but that's what this would be. Sharing her time, her love, her body with someone other than him. That's a pretty massive mental jump.
One I'm not sure any of us can actually make.
"What I do know is that I can't stand here and promise you forever," Laine says. "I can't tell you this won't hurt or that nobody gets left behind. That wouldn't be honest."
She's right. Of course she's right. I know life doesn't come with guarantees.
My throat feels raw. "So what are you saying?"
"I'm saying I want to try. Today. Tomorrow. Next week. See where it goes." Her gaze locks on mine. "But if you need a guarantee—if either of you can't move forward without a promise of forever—then you're right. We should end this now."
The silence that follows is crushing.
Reid clears his throat. "That's not fair."
"None of this is fair," Laine agrees. "But it's honest. And I'd rather have honest than easy."
She's standing there, arms wrapped around herself, looking smaller than I've ever seen her. But her spine is steel. Her eyes clear.
Even now, she's trying to find a path through this. She's still trying to take care of everyone.
The selfish part of me wants to take her up on this. Any part of her is better than the hell I existed in when she and Reid were a couple. But we're talking really unknown territory. I don't know if this idea is a lifeline, or the fucking anchor that's going to drag me down.
"I need time," I hear myself say.
Laine nods. "Okay. So do I. I didn't plan to suggest this. It still might be crazy. But it also feels like possibility. But I can't quite figure out if I've lost my mind. I need time too."
Fuck. I don't want her to change her mind. "Not—not a lot. Just..." I drag a hand through my hair. "This is—"
"I know."
Reid stands. "We should all sleep on it. Make sure we're thinking clearly."
"Yeah." The word comes out steadier than I feel. "Good idea."
Reid stands, "I'll drive you home."
She shakes her head and pulls out her phone, taps a few buttons, then looks up with a small smile. "I've got a car coming. It's close. I just…I think some space is good."
Laine grabs her jacket from the back of the couch. "Why don't we connect in a few days," she says. "We can talk more when we've all had time to process."
Reid walks her to the door. I stay rooted in place, watching them say goodbye.
No kiss. Just Reid's hand on her shoulder, gentle.
Laine's fingers squeezing his wrist. Then she looks back at me, and I freeze.
There's something there in her gaze I haven't seen before. A hint of warmth that I want more of.
"Text when you get home." Fuck. That sounded like an order. "Please."
She nods, then she's gone.
I go to the window, watching her get into a car, logging the plate number and description. The door clicks shut. Reid leans his forehead against it.
"Well," he says finally. "That happened."
I sink onto the couch. My fucking legs are shaking. "She's serious."
"Yeah." Reid turns around, back pressed to the door. "She is."
"You okay?"
He laughs—sharp, humorless. "Ask me that again when my brain starts working." He moves to the chair across from me. "You?"
Too many things to put into words. "Terrified."
"Join the club."
We sit there. Two idiots who somehow ended up in the most complicated situation imaginable. The clock on the wall ticks. Outside, a car passes. Everything in my world just fucking stopped, but out there, time's still passing.
"I don't know if I can do this," I admit.
Reid's quiet for a long moment. "Which part? Being with her? Or being with her while I'm also with her?"
"Both. Either." I scrub my hands over my face. "What if I fuck it up again? What if I hurt her?"
"You will."
I look up sharply.
"Not on purpose," Reid clarifies. "But nobody gets through a relationship without hurting people sometimes. That's not the question."
Did he somehow become a relationship expert while I was gone? "Then what is?"
"Whether you'll stay anyway. When it gets hard. When you're scared." His eyes meet mine. "Whether you'll cut and run or stay and fight."
The back of my neck gets hot, and the urge to yell is pretty fucking strong.
"Either you're not being fair, or you really don't get me.
Cutting and running's never been my MO, Reid.
If it were, I would have left long before I did.
I'm the guy that stays way too long." His jaw clenches, and I'm tempted to shut the fuck up.
But if there's a chance we might do this, then we have to have this conversation.
"Whenever I love somebody, I do anything for them.
Even if it hurts me. I'm not capable of walking away.
I know that's fucked up, but there it is. "
He looks away, his jaw ticking. "I know. I'm sorry. I don't know why I said that."
"Running isn't going to be our problem. Not destroying each other from jealousy or fear will be.
" The raging jealousy, the dark moments where I imagined Reid gone, and me left to comfort Laine, haunt me.
That shit was bad on so many levels. "I love her," I confess.
"Really love her. Not just—it's not just attraction. "
Another jaw clench. "I know."
"And are you going to be able to live with that?" I already know I can survive on crumbs. If I get more of Laine than I did before, I'm going to be okay.
Maybe not okay, but I'll survive. And honestly, that's better than the alternative. Some Laine is better than no Laine.
Reid groans and drops his head against the back of the chair. "Ask me tomorrow. Right now I'm too tired to feel anything except grateful she didn't walk away from both of us."
Fair enough.