~ Chapter 45 ~
Reed
The road trip started the way all bad ideas did—too early, too loud, and already unhinged.
Reed had offered to drive without thinking too hard about what that would mean, and now here he was, hands on the wheel, coffee cooling in the cup holder, Sandra yelling from the back seat about how no one respected her right to aux privileges.
Cassie was half-turned around trying to mediate, which only made it worse, and Ryan was deliberately humming off-key just to push Sandra closer to violence.
Felix had his legs stretched out like he owned the vehicle, complaining about legroom even though he was the one who'd insisted on sitting in the back instead of riding shotgun with Vinod.
Vinod, for his part, was quietly staring at his phone, tracking their route like a man on a mission, occasionally muttering things like, "You missed the optimal turn," just to annoy everyone else.
Reed tuned most of it out.
Eva sat beside him in the passenger seat, knees tucked slightly toward her chest, wearing one of his hoodies and a pair of sunglasses she kept pushing up on her nose.
She smelled like shampoo and sunscreen already, like she'd prepared for the beach hours before they'd even see water.
She hummed under her breath to whatever song Cassie had finally bullied her way into playing, fingers absently twisting the sleeve of the hoodie.
Every now and then, she reached over and laced her fingers through his for a few seconds before letting go again, like it was instinctual. Unforced. Familiar.
Reed didn't say anything about it.
He didn't need to.
At a red light, Ryan leaned forward between the seats and smirked. "You two are disgustingly domestic already."
Eva laughed softly and leaned her head back against the seat. "We're just sitting."
Felix scoffed. "Yeah, sitting in love."
Reed glanced sideways at Eva, expecting her to get flustered the way she usually did. Instead, she just smiled and shrugged, her cheeks pink but her posture relaxed.
That did something to him.
The light turned green, and Reed drove on, the noise filling the car again, but something inside him stayed steady. Calm. Like this—this chaos, this group, her beside him—wasn't temporary.
The beach rental was exactly as chaotic as expected.
The second they pulled up, Sandra was already out of the car, sunglasses on, declaring rooms like she was claiming territory.
Parker followed with a tote bag full of snacks, already negotiating bed assignments with a level of seriousness that suggested she'd thought about this all week.
Felix immediately dropped his bag and kicked his shoes off, shirt coming halfway up his torso for absolutely no reason, and Cassie yelled at him to put it back down before they'd even been inside five minutes.
Eva moved through it all quietly, instinctively, helping Parker carry bags, checking if Cassie needed help with the cooler, reminding Ryan not to leave his shoes in the doorway because someone would trip.
Reed stayed back for a second, watching her move between people like she belonged to all of it.
She didn't demand attention.
She didn't take up space loudly.
She just... softened the room.
"Where did you find her?" Felix asked him quietly, leaning against the counter as Eva handed Parker a bottle of water.
Reed didn't hesitate. "She found me."
Felix snorted. "Figures."
Someone joked that they'd never eat bad food again with Eva around, and she waved it off, embarrassed, promising she'd cook later if everyone behaved.
Reed caught the way she tucked her hair behind her ear when she laughed, the way she checked in with him without making it obvious, eyes flicking to his face like she just wanted to make sure he was okay.
He was more than okay.
The beach morning came faster than Reed expected.
Too fast, honestly.
They spilled out of the rental in various states of sleep deprivation and chaos, Felix already complaining about the sand like it had personally wronged him, Sandra sprinting ahead toward the water with zero shame, and Ryan dramatically announcing that he would, in fact, drown if the ocean touched him before coffee.
Reed barely noticed any of it.
Because Eva had stopped beside him.
She'd changed into a one-piece swimsuit, olive green like it had been chosen on purpose, the fabric hugging her in a way that was modest and devastating all at once.
The cover-up she wore over it was thin and loose, drifting around her legs when the breeze caught it, doing absolutely nothing to disguise the soft curves underneath.
She looked... confident.
Not performative.
Just quietly present in her body.
Reed swallowed.
Hard.
He'd already taken his shirt off without thinking about it — muscle memory from years of summer practices and beach runs — but the second he did, Eva's eyes flicked to his chest and stayed there half a second too long.
She looked away immediately, cheeks warming, but not before Reed caught the way her breath shifted.
Oh.
That did something to him.
She tugged her sunglasses up her nose, pretending very hard to be interested in the horizon. "It's... really nice out."
"It is," he said, voice lower than he intended.
He followed her down to the sand, every step hyper-aware of her beside him — the sway of her hips, the way the cover-up brushed her thighs, the way she kept glancing at him like she was trying to convince herself she was being subtle.
She wasn't.
They dropped their things near the others, towels spread out in messy piles. Eva settled onto one of them, knees tucked slightly inward, posture relaxed but thoughtful. Reed sat behind her, instinctively close, his legs framing her hips without either of them acknowledging it out loud.
Up close, the swimsuit revealed more than it hid.
The gentle slope of her back.
The way her waist dipped before curving out again.
The way she shifted when she laughed, like she was still getting used to being seen this way.
Reed rested his hands on her hips without thinking.
Not gripping.
Not claiming.
Just there.
Eva leaned back into him like it was the most natural thing in the world.
He exhaled slowly.
Sandra glanced over her shoulder and grinned. "I give it ten minutes before you two forget the rest of us exist."
Eva laughed softly, tilting her head back just enough that her temple brushed Reed's collarbone. "We're here."
Felix snorted. "Physically, maybe."
Reed ignored him, attention fixed on the warmth of Eva's body against his. The ocean stretched out in front of them, loud and endless, but all he could focus on was the way she fit — how easily, how naturally — like his body had been waiting for hers.
She twisted slightly to look up at him, eyes hidden behind her sunglasses. "You're staring."
He didn't deny it.
"You're allowed to look," he said quietly.
Her lips parted.
Then curved into a shy smile.
"Good," she murmured.
Something in his chest tightened — not lust exactly, not yet — something deeper, steadier. Pride. Want. A quiet sense of this is mine, and I am careful with it.
He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, letting his chin rest there.
Sandra suddenly glanced over. "Okay, serious question. Would you let your future kid play sports?"
Eva laughed softly. "I don't know. Maybe something low-contact."
Felix scoffed. "Weak."
"Alive," Eva countered.
Reed smiled into her hair. "Smart."
Ryan tossed the football aside and flopped down nearby. "If I have a daughter, she's not dating an athlete. Ever."
Cassie snorted. "Says the athlete."
Reed didn't even think before he spoke.
"Yeah," he said calmly. "Same. Not my daughter. She'd be too innocent. Like her mom."
The words landed.
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
But they landed.
Eva's fingers stilled in the sand.
Her breath caught so subtly she wasn't sure anyone else noticed.
My daughter.
Her mom.
She turned slowly, heart pounding, and looked up at him. "Did you just—"
Reed looked down at her, realization dawning a beat too late. His mouth curved into a soft, unapologetic smile.
"I did," he said. "Didn't mean it like a whole plan. Just... came out."
Her chest felt warm. Overwhelmingly so.
"Oh," she breathed.
Sandra froze mid-sentence. Cassie's jaw dropped.
Felix pointed between them. "I'm sorry, did we just witness a biological future being casually discussed?"
Ryan slapped his knee. "brO."
Eva's cheeks burned, but she didn't pull away. Instead, she leaned back into Reed, her hand sliding to rest over his forearm like it belonged there.
"You're ridiculous," she murmured.
He lowered his voice so only she could hear. "Too much?"
She shook her head, a shy smile playing at her lips. "Just... unexpected."
His thumb brushed her hip, grounding. "I think about a lot of things," he said quietly. "Some of them sneak out."
Her heart did a dangerous little flip.
She tilted her head back just enough to look at him. "You'd be a good dad."
The words surprised both of them.
Reed's expression softened completely. "Yeah?"
She nodded. "Yeah."
He pressed a kiss to her temple, slow and sure, pride and tenderness rolling through him in equal measure.
Around them, the teasing resumed—louder now, exaggerated—but Eva barely heard it. All she felt was the weight of Reed behind her, the future he didn't talk about carefully, and the way he said her mom like it was already true.
Around them, the group carried on — laughter, arguing, waves crashing — but Reed stayed still, grounded, acutely aware of every inch of skin between them, of the fact that she was here with him, choosing him openly.
And for the first time, being seen like this didn't feel exposing.
It felt right.
---
By the time the sun had fully dipped below the horizon, the beach house had softened into something quieter.
Music played low from a speaker on the counter, some mellow playlist Felix had surprisingly decent taste in. Empty bottles and half-finished drinks dotted the table, no one drunk, just relaxed — loose-limbed, warm, laughing more easily than they had all semester.
Cards were scattered across the coffee table.
Ryan was losing spectacularly and blaming the universe for it.
Caleb and Vinod were arguing over rules no one had bothered to establish.
Felix had somehow convinced Parker to play partners with him, which mostly involved them whispering insults at each other and laughing too hard about it.
Reed sat back against the arm of the couch, beer untouched in his hand.
Eva was curled on the floor between Parker and Cassie, legs tucked beneath her, head thrown back in laughter at something Sandra had just said. Her laugh was unguarded — not the soft one she defaulted to in quieter moments, but full, bright, carefree.
It hit him harder than he expected.
Because for a second, it felt like memory.
Not the details — not the room, not the people — but the feeling.
Warmth.
Noise without chaos.
Laughter that lingered instead of echoing.
His mom had been like that.
The kind of presence that made a house feel alive. The kind of warmth that filled space without trying. The kind of person who noticed when someone was quiet and drew them back in gently.
Eva wasn't her.
He didn't confuse that.
But the feeling... it was close enough to ache.
Reed watched Eva reach for Parker's hand mid-laugh, watched the way she leaned instinctively toward people she loved, watched how easily she fit into the rhythm of a room without demanding attention.
Loving Eva felt like stepping into warmth again.
That terrified him.
Not because it hurt — but because he knew what it meant to lose it.
His fingers tightened around the bottle before he realized it.
Felix glanced over. "You good, man?"
Reed nodded once. "Yeah."
But his eyes stayed on Eva.
Because despite the fear — despite the memory — he knew one thing with terrifying clarity.
He wasn't stepping away.
He was walking in anyway.
It was late by the time they slipped away.
Not announced.
Not planned.
Just a quiet understanding.
Eva followed him out onto the balcony, the sound of the waves rolling in below them, steady and endless. The night air was cool, salt-heavy, threading through her hair and tugging gently at the hem of her cover-up.
Reed leaned against the railing, eyes on the dark horizon.
Eva stood close enough that their arms brushed.
Not touching.
But aware.
He took a breath. Then another.
"I've been thinking," he said quietly.
Eva turned toward him. "That sounds dangerous."
A corner of his mouth lifted. "Usually is."
She waited.
Reed exhaled slowly. "I loved you when I fell for you."
Her breath hitched, but she didn't interrupt.
"I love you differently now," he continued. "Not like something that happened to me. Like something I'm choosing. Every day."
Eva reached for his face without thinking, her palm warm against his jaw.
Reed leaned into it instinctively.
"I love you like you're my home," he finished.
The words settled between them.
No rush.
No pressure.
Just truth.
Eva's thumb brushed gently beneath his eye. "I choose you too."
He kissed her then.
Not rushed.
Not desperate.
Deep and slow, like he had nowhere else to be.
Her hands slid into his hair. His found her waist, pulling her closer, grounding her against him. The kiss deepened — mouths moving in quiet agreement, breath syncing, bodies leaning into what they already knew.
Eva's fingers tightened in his shirt.
Reed groaned softly, low in his chest, breaking the kiss only long enough to rest his forehead against hers.
"Come here," he murmured.
She followed without hesitation.
The balcony door closed behind them, laughter and noise fading into the background.
Inside, he backed her gently against the wall, kissing her again — slower this time, more intentional. His hands mapped familiar places, thumbs brushing skin that already felt like his. Eva's body responded without question, warmth building, breath coming faster.
Nothing hurried.
Nothing taken.
Just want.
Just closeness.
Just the quiet certainty of two people choosing each other — again, and again, and again.