Chapter 34
REID
Ipush open the workshop door and immediately smell whiskey underneath the sawdust and varnish.
Blake's sitting on his workbench, bottle of Jack Daniels next to him, staring at a mangled chunk of wood like it's personally offended him.
"Reid?" He turns, and I can see he's more than a little drunk. "What are you doing here?"
"I live here, remember?"
"Could've fooled me." Blake's voice isn't angry, just tired. "Haven't seen you in what, four days?"
Shit. Has it been four days? I think about it - spent Tuesday night at Laine's, Wednesday we went to that new restaurant downtown and I stayed over, Thursday was her day off so we drove to the coast, and last night...
"Sorry," I say, and I mean it. "Laine and I have been..."
"I know what you've been doing." Blake takes another sip from the bottle. "You don't have to explain."
But his voice is ragged. Raw. So for the first time in too long I look at him. Really look.
His hair's a disaster — and not the cute, rolled-out-of-bed kind.
More like the hasn't-seen-a-pillow-in-a-week kind.
His t-shirt's got that lived-in rumple, the collar stretched out, like he grabbed it off the floor three days running.
And the circles under his eyes — those aren't just dark. Those are bruises.
"When's the last time you slept?" I ask.
"When's the last time you came home?"
Okay. Fair. I grab a folding chair, flip it around, drop into it across from him. "Blake, what's going on?"
"Nothing's going on. I'm working. Same as always."
"This isn't the same as always. You look like hell."
Blake laughs, but it's hollow. Just teeth, no warmth. "Thanks. Real confidence booster."
"I'm serious. When's the last time you ate a real meal? Slept in your actual bed instead of crashing out here?"
"I don't know. What day is it?"
"Friday."
"Then probably Tuesday. Maybe Monday." Blake sets the bottle down and rubs his face. "Time's been weird lately."
Time's been weird because I haven't been here.
Simple as that. For weeks now I've been crashing at Laine's more than my own place — her couch, her bed, her kitchen that actually has food in it — and Blake's been alone in this house.
Working himself into the ground while I played house with my girlfriend.
"Blake..."
"Don't." He holds up a hand. "Don't apologize for being happy. Don't apologize for having a life."
"But I should have—"
"What? Checked on me? Made sure I was eating my vegetables and getting enough sleep?" His voice goes sharp, edged. "I'm not your kid, Reid. I'm a grown man. I can take care of myself."
Except he's not taking care of himself. He's sitting in his workshop at midnight, drunk and alone, looking like he hasn't seen sunlight in a week.
"You're right," I say. "You're not my kid. You're my best friend. And I've been a shitty friend lately."
Blake is staring at the mantel again. "You haven't been shitty. You've been in love."
The way he says it makes my stomach twist. Like being in love is a disease, or a betrayal. I fucking hate this. I hate that everything with Laine is so amazing, and things with Blake are going down the fucking shitter.
"I can be in love and still be a good friend."
"Can you?" Blake looks at me and I get this weird vertigo. I don’t recognize him. "Because it doesn't feel like it."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean you disappear for days at a time. I mean you come home to shower and change clothes and then you're gone again. I haven't had a real conversation with you in three weeks."
He's right. I know he's right. But it's not like he's some master of communication. Hell, before Laine we could go days with nothing more than a 'morning'. Our schedules were different, we were focused on different things, and that wasn't a problem.
"You could have said something. Could have asked me to stay home once in a while."
"And what? Be the pathetic, jealous roommate?" Blake laughs bitterly. "No thanks."
Jealous. That's not the right word, but I don't know what the right word is. Blake's not jealous of Laine. He doesn't want what I have with her. He's just...
"You're not pathetic," I say.
"Aren't I? Sitting here drunk at midnight, whining because my best friend has better things to do than babysit me?"
"That's not what this is."
"Isn't it?" Blake picks up the bottle again, but doesn't drink from it. Just holds it like an anchor. "Face it, Reid. I'm the third wheel now. The weird single guy who lives in your house and makes it awkward when you want to bring your girlfriend home."
"It's our house, asshole. Besides, Laine likes you."
Blake snorts. "Laine tolerates me. There's a difference."
"That's not true."
"It doesn't matter anyway." Blake sets the bottle down and looks at me, gaze locked on. "I've been thinking about getting out of here."
My heart stops. Not metaphorically. The actual organ in my chest just quits for a full beat. "What do you mean, getting out?"
"I mean maybe it's time for me to find my own place. Let you and Laine have this house to yourselves."
"Blake, no. You don't have to—"
"Or maybe I should re-enlist."
And now it's back, hammering so hard I can feel it in my teeth. "What?"
"You heard me. Maybe it's time to go back. Get a fresh start somewhere else."
"You can't be serious."
"Why not? What's keeping me here?"
"Me." He can't fucking leave. "I'm keeping you here. This house, our life, everything we've built together."
"Our life?" Blake's voice drops. Gets quiet. The kind of quiet that makes the back of my neck prickle. "Reid, you haven't been part of our life in a month. You've got a new life now. With her."
"That's not... Laine doesn't replace you."
"Doesn't she?" Blake takes a long pull from the bottle. "Look, I've been thinking about this for weeks. The military worked for me, Reid. Really worked. I was good at what I did."
"Blake..."
"No, listen. Covert ops, specialized missions - I had a purpose. Structure. Brotherhood." His voice gets steadier, more sure. "Jared and I, we thrived in that world. We knew who we were, what we were supposed to do."
The way he talks about it scares me. Not nostalgic — hungry. Like he's been starving for something civilian life can't feed him.
I can't lose him.
I can't get some phone call that he's missing. Can't answer the door one morning and find dress uniforms on the other side, asking for next of kin.
I can't be all alone.
I fucking can't.
"That was different. You were younger, and Jared was there."
"Exactly. Jared was there." Blake sets the bottle down hard. "We had each other's backs. We were part of something that mattered. Out here?" He gestures around the workshop. "I fix old wood for rich people. That's it. That's everything I have going for me."
"The work you do matters."
"No, it fucking doesn't." He drops his head back against the headrest. "Some days I can't remember why I got out in the first place."
"You got out because Jared got blown to fucking bits."
Blake stops cold, pain flashing across his face. Good. I need him to wake the fuck up and see there's no way he can re-enlist. But the fucker's not listening. "Maybe that was the only right thing I've ever done. Maybe it's better if I go back."
"Blake, no. For fuck's sake, that life, those missions - that's what killed him."
"And this life is what's killing me." Blake's voice cracks slightly. "Slowly, maybe, but still."
The pain in his voice hits me like a punch to the gut. I've been so caught up in being happy with Laine that I didn't see how much Blake was struggling. How lonely he's been.
"I'm sorry," I say. "I didn't mean for it to happen like this."
"Like what?"
"Like me abandoning you for a girl."
Blake's laugh is hollow. "You didn't abandon me, Reid. You grew up. You found someone who makes you happy. That's what's supposed to happen."
"But not at your expense."
"Everything comes at someone's expense."
The resignation in his voice scares me more than the anger did.
This is Blake giving up. I don't know how to fight that.
I've never seen this version of him. Didn't know it existed.
Blake's always been Superman — cape on, boots laced, swooping in to haul the rest of us out of whatever wreckage we've made.
He was the one picking up pieces. My pieces, mostly.
I knew he was struggling with Jared's death too, but not like I was.
He didn't crater. Didn't fall into the pit and set up camp down there the way I did.
So to see him heading there now?
Fucking terrifying.
"Don't re-enlist," I say. "Please. I know I've been shitty, but don't leave because of that."
"Why not?"
"Because I need you here. Because this house isn't home without you in it. Because losing Jared almost killed me, and losing you too..." I stop, trying to find the right words. "I can't do it again, Blake. I can't lose another brother."
Blake stares at his hands, letting the silence stretch between us. When he looks up, his eyes are red-rimmed but clearer than they were before.
"Things are getting serious with her, aren't they?" he asks suddenly.
The change of subject catches me off guard. "With Laine?"
"Yeah. This isn't just dating anymore."
I think about the conversations Laine and I have been having. About moving in together. About the future. About how I can't imagine my life without her in it.
"No," I say. "It's not just dating."
"How serious?"
"Serious enough that I want to talk about her moving in. Serious enough that I'm thinking about..." I pause, not sure I'm ready to say it out loud.
"About what?"
"Marriage, maybe. Eventually."
Blake goes very still. "Marriage."
"I know it's fast, but Blake, she's..." I search for the words. "She's it for me. I've never felt this way about anyone before."
"Right." Blake's voice is carefully neutral. "So this is permanent."
"I hope so."
Blake nods slowly. "And where does that leave me?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean when you get married, when you have kids, when you build a real family - where do I fit in that picture?"
The question hits me hard, because the truth is, I haven't thought about it. I've been so focused on what I want with Laine that I haven't considered how Blake fits into that future.
"You're my family too," I say.
"I'm your friend who you share a house with. There's a difference."
Would it be wrong to punch him when he's in this state? Because I really want to. I get he's in a dark place, but he's rewriting history. "Blake..."
"It's okay." Blake picks up the bottle again, but doesn't drink. "I get it. I do. But you have to understand - watching you build a life that doesn't include me, that can't include me... it's hard."
"It does include you."
"Does it? Because from where I'm sitting, it looks like you're building a beautiful life with someone you love, and I'm just... here. In the way."
"You're not in the way."
"Then why do I feel like I am?"
I don't have a good answer for that. Because maybe he is in the way, just a little bit. Maybe having Blake here does make things more complicated with Laine. And yeah, maybe I have been choosing the easier path of staying at her place instead of figuring out how to make this work.
But that doesn't mean I want him gone.
"Don't re-enlist," I say again. "We'll figure this out. All of it. But don't leave because I'm being an idiot."
Blake drops his head, hands hanging between his knees. Finally he nods. "Okay."
"Okay?"
"I won't leave. I'll stay."
Relief hits like a cold drink on a burn — immediate, sharp, good. But it doesn't land clean. Because Blake doesn't look like a guy who just made peace. He looks like a guy who just signed discharge papers he didn't want to sign.
Resigned. That's the word. Jaw set, eyes flat, shoulders carrying an invisible weight.
"Promise? I need you here. You're my fucking brother, and the next time you deny it, I'm going to punch you in the fucking face. Okay? Promise?"
"I promise." Blake's voice is flat, emotionless. "I'll stay and watch you build your perfect life with her. I'll be the good friend who doesn't complain, who doesn't get in the way. I'll stay until it kills me."
I don't even know what to do with that. We have a good life.
Laine's going to make things even better.
They just need to get over this first rough patch, and settle in to being family.
"Jesus, Blake. Don't be so dramatic." I shake my head, smiling slightly.
"Laine's amazing. We're all going to be alright. "
"Right." Blake laugh sounds off. "Of course it will be fine."
The way he says it feels off, but I don't push. Blake's always been a little emotional when he drinks. This is no different. He'll wake up tomorrow, and everything will be okay.
"Good," I say, standing up. "And Blake? I'm going to do better. I'm going to be here more."
Blake gives me a look I can't quite read. "Sure, Reid."
"I mean it."
"I know you do." Blake's voice is tired. "But we both know how this goes. You'll try for a week, maybe two. Then Laine will need you, or you'll miss her, or you'll just forget. And I'll be back here, alone, wondering why I stayed."
"That's not going to happen."
"It already is happening."
I want to argue with him, but the truth is sitting between us like a third person in the room. I will try to balance things better. But Laine is my priority now, and Blake knows it.
We both know it.
"I should let you get back to work," I say.
Blake nods, already turning back to the mantel. "Yeah. This thing won't restore itself."
I head toward the door, but Blake's voice stops me.
"Reid?"
"Yeah?"
"Be happy, okay? Don't feel guilty about being happy."
Fuck. He's a good man under all the jagged edges. This is all going to be okay. I'll make sure it is.