Chapter 43
BLAKE
Ican't sit still.
My boots scrape against the concrete floor. Pace the length of the bench. Turn. Pace back.
I pick up a chisel, testing the edge with my thumb. Sharp. Good. I set it down. Pick it up again.
The air in the workshop is stale, smelling of sawdust and old frustration. I feel like I’m vibrating, a low-frequency hum under my skin that won’t stop.
The phone sits on the workbench. It’s been sitting there for an hour.
I grab it. Dial Hatch.
He picks up on the first ring. "Blake."
"That contract," I say. No pleasantries. "Kabul. Security detail."
"I thought you passed. You said—"
"Is the seat open?"
Silence on the line. I can hear Hatch shifting gears, the shift from friend to CO. "Transport leaves McChord tomorrow night at 2200. I can get you on it. You can help with setup before the rest of the team gets there."
"Do it."
"Blake, slow down. You said Reid—"
"Reid doesn't need me." It's the truth, even if he can't see it. Maybe he'll fall apart if I go, but he sure as fuck will if I stay. "Just send the paperwork."
"Kid, if you’re running—"
The workshop door crashes open.
I don't jump. I don't spin around. I just close my eyes for a second, feeling the inevitable impact, then lower the phone.
"I have to go," I say.
I hang up before Hatch can argue.
I turn around.
Reid's standing in the doorway. Breathing hard, chest heaving. Hair wrecked, face washed out under the overhead lights.
He looks like a man who just watched his house burn down.
"She's gone," he says.
She's gone.
I don't move. Don't breathe. She actually left. I knew she would. I made damn sure she would. But hearing it out loud makes it something else entirely. Something I can't fold up and put away.
Good. That was the point.
But my hands won't stop shaking. I look down at them and they're useless, trembling like they belong to someone else. There's this hollowed-out feeling behind my ribs, like someone reached in and scraped me clean.
I did this. I looked at her soft smile and her trust and I took a fucking knife to all of it. Because I couldn't stand watching Reid be happy when I wanted what he had.
Mission accomplished, asshole.
I lean back against the workbench, crossing my arms over my chest to keep my hands from shaking. "It's better this way."
Reid stares at me. For a second, I think he didn't hear me. Then he lets out a sound—half laugh, half sob.
"Better?" He steps into the room. "She left me, Blake. She drove away. Because of you."
I look at a knot in the wood of the floorboards. "She was going to leave eventually. I just sped up the timeline."
"Don't you dare." His voice drops, low and dangerous. "Don't you dare act like you did me a favor. She told me everything."
My jaw tightens. "Good."
"She told me you met her at the bar." Reid takes another step closer. He’s vibrating with rage, a kind of kinetic energy I haven't seen in him since the sandbox. "She said you told her I made you stay. That I begged."
"I told her the truth."
"You told her I was weak!" Reid screams it, the sound echoing off the metal tools. "You told her I was holding you hostage! You took the fact that I love you—that I wanted my brother safe—and you twisted it into a noose to hang me with."
I don't answer. There’s nothing to say. He’s right.
But he’s still standing here. Even now, screaming at me, he’s still looking for a reason to understand. He’s still trying to find the guy he knew before.
That guy is dead. And I need Reid to bury him so he can move on. If I apologize, he’ll try to fix this. He’ll try to fix me. I can't let him do that anymore. I have to make sure the break is clean. I have to make sure it’s bone-deep.
"And the flight risk comment?" Reid is in my face now. I can smell the distress on him. "You used that? Really? The shit I told you in confidence when I was terrified of losing her? That wasn't a fucking accident was it?"
"She needed to know where she stood."
"She stood with me!" Reid shoves me. It’s not a hard shove, but I let it rock me back. "She was mine! And you couldn't stand it. You couldn't stand seeing me happy, so you poisoned it."
"I protected you," I say, my voice flat. "She wasn't built for this, Reid. She was going to run. Better she runs now than in five years when you’re married with kids."
"You don't know that!"
"I know people leave. Everyone leaves."
"You made her leave!"
Reid swings.
It’s a sloppy punch. Telegraphed. Emotional. I could block it. I could step inside it and put him on the floor in two seconds.
I don't move.
His fist connects with my jaw. A bright flash of white light, then the dull throb of impact. I stumble back, knocking a jar of screws off the bench. They scatter across the floor like shrapnel.
He hits like a freight train. I straighten up. Taste blood.
Good. Let him hate me. Hate is cleaner than worry. Hate is a line in the sand. I’ve spent years letting him drag me toward the light, and all I’ve done is dim him.
I need him to let go. And since he won't do it, I have to make him.
"Hit me back," Reid snarls. He’s crying now. Tears streaming down his face. "Come on, Marine. Hit me back."
I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. "No."
He hits me again. Stomach, this time. It knocks the wind out of me. I double over, wheezing, gripping the edge of the workbench.
"Why?" Reid screams. He grabs the front of my shirt, hauling me up, slamming me back against the cabinets. "Why do you hate her? What did she ever do to you except try to be your friend?"
I look at him. My best friend. My brother. I’ve broken him. I’ve taken the light out of his eyes and replaced it with this wreckage.
"I don't hate her," I rasp.
"Then why? Why treat her like garbage? Why drive her away?"
The truth is a physical weight in my chest. Heavy. Suffocating.
I look at him. He’s waiting for an excuse. A reason for the shit I’ve done that he can wrap his head around, so he can eventually forgive me.
I can't give him that. I have to give him the one thing that burns the bridge down to the pilings. The one thing that ensures he never calls me, never checks on me, never worries about me again.
I have to break his heart to save his life.
'Because I couldn't watch it anymore,' I say.
Reid freezes. His grip on my shirt loosens slightly. "Watch what?"
"You and her." I look away, staring at the wall over his shoulder. "The way she looks at you. The way she laughs. The way she makes this house feel like a home instead of a barracks."
"You're jealous?" Reid asks, his voice incredulous. "You destroyed my life because you were jealous of my girlfriend?"
"Not jealous." I close my eyes. "I tried not to, Reid."
"Tried not to what?"
"I tried not to love her."
The silence hits harder than anything Reid just threw at me. Louder than the shouting. Louder than the tools scattering across the floor.
Reid lets go of my shirt. Steps back, catches his heel on the screws rolling underfoot. He looks at me like I just put a blade through him.
"What did you say?"
"I tried." I open my eyes. Everything's blurred at the edges. "From the first night. I tried to hate her. I tried to push her away. I thought if I was enough of an asshole, she'd leave. Or you'd kick me out. Either way, I wouldn't have to be here. I wouldn't have to see it."
Reid stares at me. Horror. That's what's on his face. Not anger anymore. Pure horror.
"You love her," he whispers.
"Yeah."
The word just sits there. No taking it back.
No clever redirect. Just the ugly truth of it hanging in sawdust and dead air.
I said it. I fucking said it out loud and the world didn't end, which is almost worse, because now I have to stand here and keep breathing with it exposed like an open wound I've been covering with dirty bandages for months.
I love her. I've loved her since she laughed at something stupid I said in the kitchen and I felt my whole chest rearrange itself.
I loved her when I was cruel. I loved her when I made her flinch.
I loved her every single time I walked away because walking away was the only decent thing I had left and I fucked that up too.
"And instead of telling me..." Reid's voice is quiet. Controlled. Worse than yelling. "Instead of leaving... you fucked with her?"
I am such a piece of shit. "I was trying to make her go," I say weakly. "I was trying to save you from me."
"You didn't save anyone." Reid’s voice is hollow. "You just broke everything."
He turns away from me, running a hand through his hair. He looks at the door. Then back at me. The anger is gone, replaced by something worse. Disgust.
"Get out," he says.
I nod. I expected this. I wanted this.
"Reid—"
"Don't." He holds up a hand. "Don't say anything else. Just... get out. I don't want you in the house. I don't want you near me."
"I'm leaving," I say. "Tomorrow. I accepted the contract."
"Good." He doesn't look at me. "I hope it's a long one."
He walks out. He doesn't slam the door. He just leaves it open, the cold night air rushing in to mix with the sawdust.
I stand there for a long time. My jaw throbs. My stomach aches.
I look at the mess on the floor. The screws. The glass.
Broken.
The anger and disgust and devastation rolls through me, and I black out a bit. When I come back to myself, my knuckles are split, and my fucking workshop is shattered.
It doesn't matter. None of this is mine anymore.
I pick up my phone. The screen is cracked from where I dropped it.
I dial Hatch.
"Get me on it."
"Blake—"
"Get me on that fucking transport, Hatch, or I swear to God—"
"Okay." His voice is gentle now. Understanding. "Okay, kid. I'll make the call. But Blake? You better come back. You hear me? This isn't goodbye forever. Promise me?"
I hang up without answering.
Because I can't make that promise.