Chapter 29
REID
My hands are still shaking.
Not trembling, not a little unsteady. Actually shaking, like I've got too much adrenaline and nowhere to put it. I grip the steering wheel tighter, hoping Laine doesn't notice.
She notices.
"You okay?" she asks from the passenger seat. "You're quiet."
"Me? I'm great. Fantastic. Just had my cardio for the week." I try for a grin but it sits wrong on my face, like wearing someone else's shoes. "That guy was big, right? Like, unreasonably big. He definitely ate his Wheaties. All of them. Every box. The factory had to shut down."
Laine's studying me. That assessing look. She sees right through me.
"Reid."
"I'm fine." I turn onto her street, hands doing the work my brain checked out of three blocks ago. "Just thinking about tonight. How fast things went sideways. One minute Blake's talking him down, the next he's got Carol in a chokehold and you're standing ten feet away and I'm too far to—"
I stop. Jaw locks. Swallow.
"Anyway. It's fine. I'm fine."
"Your hands."
I look down. Knuckles bone-white on the steering wheel. Both of them. The shaking's gotten worse, not better — a low tremor running wrist to fingertip like aftershock.
"Shit." I pull into her apartment complex and park. Kill the engine. Then I just sit there, staring at my hands, trying to will them still.
Damn things aren't cooperating.
"This is stupid. I've been in worse situations. Way worse. People shooting at me worse."
Tonight was just chaos and this thing that said get to her before my brain even caught up. She wasn't even the one in danger. Carol was. Blake had it handled. And I still couldn't breathe until I had my hands on Laine.
Laine unbuckles her seatbelt and turns to face me completely. "What was different about tonight?"
Everything. The fear was different — sharper, more personal. Watching that guy spiral, knowing how fast things can go wrong. How fast they always go wrong. Laine standing right there, close enough to get hurt if Blake hadn't moved so fast.
And the relief after, when it was over and she was okay — like something fundamental clicked into a new position behind my ribs and I don't know how to click it back.
"I don't know," I say, which is a lie. I do know.
It's just too big to put words on yet. "Just—when everything went sideways, I couldn't get to you fast enough.
Blake had the guy, I knew Blake had the guy, and I still couldn't think about anything except getting to you.
" I laugh, but it sounds weird. "Usually I think.
Thinking's kind of my thing. Assess the situation, consider options, don't be a hero.
And tonight my brain just... left the building. "
"But I wasn't in danger. Blake handled it."
"I know. That's what's messing with me." I scrub my hands over my face. "You were near danger. That was enough. My whole body went into overdrive for a situation that didn't even involve you directly."
"That's not a bad thing."
"Yeah, well." I scrub my hands over my face. "I'm supposed to be the professional. Not the guy who goes full caveman because something scary happens near his girlfriend."
Laine's quiet for a second. "Caveman?"
"You know what I mean."
"I do." She reaches over and puts her hands on top of mine. Her fingers are warm and steady. "Do you want to come up? I've got tea. Or something stronger."
"Tea's good." I hate tea. But when Laine makes it, I'll drink it. Or at least I'll take a sip.
But I don't move to get out of the truck. I just sit there, hands finally steady now that she's touching them, trying to figure out what the hell is happening to me.
"Reid?"
"I was terrified," I say, and the words are out before I can grab them back. "When I saw him coming at you. Not regular scared. Terrified. Like my whole world was about to end and there was nothing I could do except—" I stop. Shake my head. "That sounds dramatic."
"It doesn't sound dramatic."
"Yeah it fucking does."
Laine squeezes my hands. "When you hugged me... I felt safe. Not just protected. Actually safe. Like nothing could get to me as long as you were there."
My fingers go slack in hers. Not pulling away — just all the tension draining out at once, like someone cut a wire that's been holding me taut for hours.
This woman. This woman who's been to every corner of the planet, who's handled earthquakes and field surgeries and God knows what else — she feels safe with me.
I'm a very lucky man. "Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"Okay." I blow out a breath. "Okay. Tea. Let's do tea. Before I say something else embarrassing."
Laine's apartment is a different planet after the chaos of camp. She moves through it like she belongs here — obviously she belongs here, it's her apartment — turning on lamps, filling the kettle. I like watching her in her own space.
Except I can't just watch. I'm already up, pacing the living room, scanning her bookshelf, picking up a candle — vanilla, nice — putting it down. There's a picture frame on the shelf that's tilted maybe two degrees to the left and I fix it even though it was fine.
"Chamomile okay?" she calls from the kitchen.
"Perfect. Great. Whatever you've got." I catch myself bouncing on my heels and lock my knees. "You have a lot of books."
"I like to read."
"No, I know, I just —" I grab a paperback, thumb through pages I'm not reading, shove it back. "Sorry. I'm being weird."
Laine comes back with two mugs. "You're coming down from an adrenaline spike. It's normal."
"I know it's normal. I literally do this for a living." I take the tea and immediately scald my tongue. "Shit. That's hot. You should warn people."
"It's tea, Reid. It's supposed to be hot."
"See, that's the kind of critical information I need." I blow on it like I'm trying to put out a house fire. "Safety first."
Laine settles onto the couch and waits. Patient. She knows I'll land eventually.
I last maybe thirty seconds.
Then I drop down next to her, close enough that our thighs press together, and the buzzing under my skin all night dials down a notch. My leg's still bouncing, but slower now. Manageable.
"Better?" she asks.
"Getting there." I take another sip. Still too hot. "What about you? You seemed pretty calm for someone who almost got grabbed by a paranoid vet."
"He didn't get that close to me." Laine shrugs. "I'm used to being the target. When people are in pain, they lash out at whoever's closest. Usually that's the nurse."
"That doesn't make it okay."
"No. But it's part of the job." She curls against my side, and my arm goes around her before I even think about it. Muscle memory even though we’ve only just started getting comfortable with each other. Weird how fast your body learns a person. "Tonight was different though."
"How?"
"Usually I handle it myself. Or security handles it." She tips her face up to me. "Tonight I had you."
I pull her a little closer. Press my chin to the top of her head.
"You'll always have me," I say, and then immediately want to shove the words back in my mouth because that's — that's a lot. That's a whole thing. But it's also true, so. "I mean — shit. I know that sounds intense."
"It doesn't sound intense." She's smiling now. "It sounds nice."
"Nice. Okay. I'll take nice." My leg's going again, heel bouncing against the floor like it's got its own agenda.
I'm not even going to try and stop it. But she didn't run out of the apartment screaming at the idea of us together long term.
I mean I could come right out and say 'I want your forever,' but even I realize that four months in that's a lot.
Doesn't mean I don't feel it though.
"Blake was scary tonight," Laine says after a moment. "The way he handled that guy."
The subject change catches me off guard. "Yeah, Blake's got skills. You didn't know?" I guess we didn't talk about the kind of unit he worked in, so maybe it's normal that it took her by surprise. Blake was an operator through and through.
"I don't— well maybe I. It's just..." She hesitates, like she's not sure she should say whatever she's thinking. "He seemed different tonight. More like himself."
"More like himself?"
"More like the Blake you talk about. Caring, patient, understanding." Her finger stops tracing patterns on my chest. "Sometimes at the house, he seems so..."
"So what?"
"Distant, I guess. Like he's tolerating me being there but doesn't really want me around."
I tighten my arms around her. "Laine, that's not—Blake doesn't dislike you."
"Are you sure about that?"
Am I? He's been working longer hours, spending more time in his workshop, and yeah, he gets quiet sometimes when Laine's around. I've been chalking it up to focus. Work. Maybe feeling like a third wheel.
But I don't want to go there right now. Don't want to pull at that thread, whatever's been going on with Blake lately. Not when Laine's warm against my side and everything feels so fucking good.
"He's been stressed lately," I say. "Work's been kicking his ass. He's got like three clients lined up. When Blake gets overwhelmed, he turtles. Goes into his workshop and doesn't come out for days."
"So it's not about me?"
"No." I shift, turning to face her fully, and tip her chin up so she's looking at me. "It's not about you. Blake's protective of me, okay? Has been since we were kids. He's probably just adjusting to me being in a serious relationship."
"Serious relationship?" Laine raises an eyebrow, but she's smiling.
Shit. Did I just say serious relationship? Out loud? Like, with my actual mouth?
"I mean..." I start, then stop. Because yes, that's exactly what I meant. "Yeah. Serious relationship."
"How serious are we talking?"