Chapter 35 #2
So I just stand there. Watching him. The way his shoulders move under his t-shirt. The furrow between his brows. There's sawdust in his hair, on his forearms, catching the evening light coming through the window.
This is Blake in his element. All that coiled energy actually going somewhere useful, somewhere good. The mantelpiece taking shape under his hands is stunning—intricate Victorian scrollwork that must have taken hours.
"You going to stand there staring, or are you going to feed me?"
I jump. He hasn't looked up, but there's a smile playing at the corner of his mouth.
"How did you know I was here?"
"You breathe loud."
"How dare you! I do not."
Now he does look up, and the softness in his expression makes my chest tight. "Nah. I just know when you're nearby. Can't explain it."
I cross to the workbench, setting his plate down in a clear spot. "Reid made pasta. There's garlic bread too, but I ate most of it on the walk over."
"Savage."
"Delivery fee."
He sets down the sandpaper and pulls me in by the waist, heedless of the sawdust covering his hands. I'll have to wash this shirt now. I don't care.
"Thank you." He presses a kiss to my hair. "For bringing it out."
"Couldn't let you starve."
"I've survived on less."
I'm sure he has. More than once. And my heart aches just thinking about it. I like doing things for him. Taking care of him. "That's not the flex you think it is."
He laughs, low and warm, and I lean into him.
We stand there for a moment, wrapped up in each other, his chin resting on top of my head.
Through the workshop window, I can see the house lit up against the darkening sky.
Reid's probably doing dishes. Later, we'll all end up on the couch together, or maybe— we haven't had a repeat of that night all together.
It's good, I think. My relationship with both men has gotten deeper.
But it was so hot. I kinda want a repeat, but I don't know how to ask for it.
Or maybe the timing's been wrong.
"I'm going to be another late one tonight," Blake says, pulling back enough to look at me. "Sorry. I'm so close to done, but these last details..."
"It's okay." And it is. "The piece is beautiful. Your client's going to lose his mind."
"That's the goal." He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. "Don't wait up for me, okay? You need sleep."
"I slept all afternoon."
"You need more sleep."
He's not wrong. But I just shrug, noncommittal. "Maybe."
Blake studies my face for a moment, and I see him decide not to push. He kisses me instead—soft, sweet, tasting faintly of sawdust.
"Go keep Reid company. I'll be in later."
"Okay." I steal one more kiss before pulling away. "Don't work too hard."
"Never."
The walk back to the house is short, but I take my time, breathing in the cool evening air. Stars are starting to emerge overhead. Somewhere in the trees, an owl calls.
Reid's finishing up the dishes when I come in, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and a dish towel slung over his shoulder. He looks offensively good doing something so mundane.
"Blake eat?"
"He's working through it as we speak." I hop up onto the counter next to the sink, stealing the dish towel to dry the pot he's just rinsed. "He said he'll be late again."
"Figured." Reid hands me another pot. "That mantelpiece is going to be incredible, but I think it's taking years off his life."
"Worth it though. Have you seen the detail work?"
"I've seen him come in at midnight covered in sawdust and swearing." Reid grins. "So, yeah. Must be going well."
We fall into easy rhythm—him washing, me drying. It's such a simple thing. Domestic. Normal. Somehow, even the things that should be boring are fun with him.
"You seem tired," Reid says, not looking at me.
"I'm fine."
"Laine."
I sigh. He knows me too well. "The night shift is catching up with me. That's all."
"That's not all." He turns off the water, dries his hands, and turns to face me fully. "What's going on?"
For a moment, I consider deflecting. But this is Reid, and he'll just wait me out anyway.
"There's a day shift position open. I've been thinking about applying."
His eyebrows rise. "Yeah? That's great. You'd actually sleep like a normal person."
"Maybe."
"Maybe?" He's studying my face now. "Laine, you look exhausted. Your body hates night shift. Why wouldn't you apply?"
I twist the dish towel in my hands. "I love my crew. Joyce and the night team—they're like family. And these mornings with you guys..." I trail off, feeling stupid. "Everything's good right now. Really good. I don't want to screw it up."
Reid is quiet for a moment. Then he leans back against the counter, arms crossed, head tilted like he's trying to solve a particularly stupid puzzle.
"So let me get this straight. You're going to keep working a shift that makes you look like an extra from The Walking Dead because you're afraid that if you switch to days, Blake and I will... what? Forget you exist?"
"That's not—"
"Or maybe we'll suddenly realize that the only reason we love you is because you make excellent pancake-eating company at seven in the morning?"
I open my mouth. Close it. "When you say it like that—"
"It sounds ridiculous?" He steps closer, positioning himself between my knees.
"Because it is ridiculous, sunshine. You think I don't know what you're doing?
You're trying to freeze everything exactly as it is right now because you're terrified that if you change one thing, the whole house of cards collapses. "
My throat is tight. "What if it does change things? What if we can't figure out a new routine and it just... falls apart?"
"Then we'll deal with it. We'll adapt." He takes the dish towel from my hands and tosses it on the counter.
"But here's the thing, babe. You staying on a shift that's killing you because you're scared to rock the boat?
That's not sustainable. Eventually something's going to break, and it'll probably be you. "
Fuck. He's right. I know he's right.
"We're not that fragile," Reid says, his voice gentler now.
"You, me, Blake—we're not some delicate soufflé that'll collapse if you sneeze wrong.
We'll miss the morning pancakes, sure. But we'll figure out dinners, or midnight snacks when you get home, or I'll bring you coffee at the hospital on my lunch break and embarrass you in front of your coworkers. "
Despite everything, I laugh. "You would absolutely do that."
"Damn right I would. I'd show up with one of those giant teddy bears and a boom box." He's grinning now, and it's infectious. "I'd serenade you in the parking lot. Make a whole scene."
"You're the worst."
"I'm the best, and you know it." He squeezes my thighs. "Apply for the job, Laine. Take care of yourself. Let us worry about adapting to your new schedule. That's literally the easiest problem we've ever had to solve."
"Easier than Blake's coffee?"
"Way easier than Blake's coffee. That shit was a legitimate health hazard.
" He leans in, his forehead touching mine.
"You're not going to lose us by taking a job that won't wreck your body.
You might lose us if you keep martyring yourself for no reason, though, because Blake and I will physically drag you to the day shift interview. "
I'm smiling now, the knot in my chest loosening. "You make it sound so simple."
"Because it is simple. You're just overthinking it. Which, granted, is kind of your signature move." He kisses the tip of my nose. "But that's why you have me. To tell you when you're being ridiculous and then distract you with my devastating charm."
"Your what now?"
"My devastating charm. Keep up, Mitchell." He pulls back just enough to look at me, his expression softening. "Seriously, though. Apply. We'll figure out the rest. I promise."
I want to believe him. I do believe him.
"Okay," I whisper.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." I pull him closer, my hands finding his shoulders. "But if you show up at the hospital with a boom box, I'm breaking up with you."
"Worth the risk." He grins and kisses me, and I let myself sink into it.
"You know what I think?" Reid murmurs against my lips.
"What?"
"I think you need to stop thinking so much." His hands tighten on my waist. "I think you need to let me distract you."
"Oh, really." I'm smiling now, the heaviness from earlier fading. "And how exactly do you plan to do that?"
"I have some ideas."
He lifts me off the counter like I weigh nothing—show-off—and I wrap my legs around his waist automatically. His mouth finds my neck, and I gasp.
"Reid—"
"Mmm?"
"Take me to bed."
He pulls back enough to look at me, his eyes dark and wanting. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." I kiss him again, quick and demanding. "Hurry. I might start thinking again."
He doesn't need to be told twice.
Reid carries me down the hall toward his room, and I'm giggling like an idiot because he keeps pretending to drop me, letting me slip just enough that my stomach lurches before his arms lock tight again.
His door gives way with one kick, and then we're falling onto his bed in a mess of tangled limbs and breathless kisses that don't quite land where they're supposed to.
This is my life now.
Reid's weight settles over me, his fingers already working the button of my jeans, and it still doesn't feel real. Two men. All the sex I could want. Being taken care of better than I ever have been in all my other relationships combined.
I'm going to figure my stuff out. Because I don't plan on letting this, letting us, go.