~ Chapter 41 ~
(An emotional chapter for my baby, Reed)
Reed woke up already exhausted.
Not the kind of tired that came from late nights or bad sleep or too many practices stacked together.
The kind that lived in his bones.
The kind that settled in his chest and stayed there.
He didn't need to check the date.
He never did.
Some part of him always knew.
Every year, this day arrived the same way.
Quiet.
Unavoidable.
Like it had never really left.
Reed lay on his back staring at the ceiling, one arm tucked behind his head, the other resting loosely around Eva's waist.
She was still asleep.
Curled into him.
Hair messy.
Face soft.
One leg thrown over his.
Her breathing slow and steady.
Peaceful.
She looked safe.
She usually grounded him.
Usually made everything feel manageable.
This morning, she still did.
But she also scared him.
Because loving someone this deeply meant giving the universe leverage.
Reed's gaze drifted to the faint scar near his shoulder.
The one Eva had noticed weeks ago.
The one she'd traced with gentle fingers and quiet curiosity.
He had told her his mom died.
He had told her it was a drunk driver.
He had told her he was in the car.
He had not told her what it felt like.
He had not told her what he still heard in his sleep.
He had not told her how much of that night lived inside him.
Eva shifted slightly, her nose brushing his chest.
Her hand slid higher, fingers curling softly into his skin.
A sleepy little sound left her mouth.
Reed closed his eyes.
For a moment, he considered pretending today was normal.
Letting her wake up smiling.
Letting her talk about breakfast.
Letting the world move forward.
But the weight in his chest was already too heavy.
Eva blinked awake slowly.
Her eyes found his.
Softened instantly.
"Morning," she murmured.
Reed swallowed.
"Morning."
She studied him.
Not in a suspicious way.
In the way that meant she noticed everything.
"You okay?"
Reed shook his head.
"No."
Eva didn't react dramatically.
Didn't rush.
Didn't panic.
She simply slid her palm to his chest.
"I'm here."
Something inside him cracked.
Not wide open.
Not yet.
But enough.
"Today's... the anniversary," Reed said quietly.
Eva's thumb stilled.
"Of the accident."
Her face softened even more.
"Oh, Reed."
Reed stared at the ceiling.
"I don't talk about it much. Even with you."
Eva didn't push.
Didn't rush him.
Just stayed close.
"I remember the sound," Reed said.
His voice stayed steady, but everything inside him wasn't.
"The tires. The metal. Glass."
Eva's fingers tightened slightly in his shirt.
"I remember thinking we were spinning forever."
He swallowed.
"I remember looking at my mom and realizing she wasn't answering me."
Eva's eyes filled.
"I remember screaming her name until my throat hurt."
His jaw clenched.
"They told me later she died on impact."
Silence stretched between them.
Not empty.
Heavy.
Breathing.
"I still see her face," Reed admitted. "Not hurt. Just... still."
Eva's eyes overflowed.
She shifted closer, carefully, like she didn't want to startle him.
"I don't know how to stop feeling like I should've done something," he said. "I was in the passenger seat. I walked away with a few broken ribs and this scar."
He touched his shoulder lightly.
"She didn't walk away at all."
Eva slid her arm around his ribs and pulled him into her.
Reed went willingly.
Rested his forehead against her collarbone.
Let himself be held.
"I hate this day," he murmured. "I hate who I am on this day."
Eva pressed a kiss to his hair.
"You're the same man today as you are every other day."
Reed shook his head.
"No. Today I'm scared."
"Of what?"
"Of loving you this much."
Eva pulled back just enough to look at him.
"Why?"
"Because loving you makes me imagine a future. And imagining a future means imagining losing it."
Eva cupped his face.
"You don't get to punish yourself for something that hasn't happened."
Reed let out a shaky breath.
"I don't want to become bitter like my dad was for a long time. I don't want to shut down. I don't want to turn into someone who survives instead of lives."
Eva rested her forehead against his.
"You're not going to do that. You live life everyday with her in you."
Reed closed his eyes.
"You make me want to stay soft," he admitted. "You make me want to build a life."
Eva kissed him.
Slow.
Steady.
Certain.
"I love you," she whispered.
Reed felt it in his chest.
In his ribs.
In his bones.
"I love you too."
They lay there for a long moment.
Breathing together.
Existing together.
Eventually, Reed reached for his phone.
"Can I call my dad?"
Eva nodded immediately.
"Of course."
Reed dialed.
It rang twice.
"Hey, Dad."
A pause.
"Yeah. I know what day it is."
Another pause.
Reed swallowed.
"I'm okay. I'm with Eva."
He glanced at her.
She smiled softly.
"She says hi."
More silence.
Reed listened.
Nodded.
"Yeah. I still miss her too."
His voice dipped.
"I think about her a lot today."
He listened again.
"Thanks. That means a lot."
A breath.
"I love you."
Another pause.
"I'll come by later this week."
He hung up slowly.
Eva reached for him immediately.
Wrapped her arms around his shoulders.
Reed rested his chin on her head.
For the first time since he was ten years old...
The anniversary didn't feel like a punishment.
It felt like grief.
And grief felt survivable.
Because he wasn't alone anymore.