Chapter 18 #2
This time when he grabbed me, I didn't freeze. I knocked back, stomped down hard on where his foot would be—well, sorta hard since it's Reed and not the shit-bag. His grip loosened slightly.
"Good! Now the head—careful, just the motion—"
I snapped my head back, knocking just a bit into his nose until I heard him grunt.
"Perfect." He released me completely. "And?"
"Escape." I stepped away, putting distance between us.
"Exactly." He was breathing a little hard, a slight smile on his face. "You're a natural."
We spent the next hour running through scenarios. What to do if someone grabbed my wrist. How to use my keys as a weapon. The vulnerable points on the human body—eyes, throat, groin, knees. Where to strike for maximum impact.
By the time we finished, I was a mass of sweat and my muscles were trembling, but I felt... different. Not invincible. Not fearless. But, even I had to admit, I felt empowered.
"One more thing," Reed said, pulling two small canisters from his gym bag. "Pepper spray. One for your purse, one for your keychain. Have you ever used it?"
I turned the canister over in my palm, surprised by its lightness. "I had one years ago, but it was this huge bulky thing that wouldn't fit in my purse. This is tiny. Will something this small actually stop someone like Bryce?"
"It will. These little canisters pack a serious punch.
" He showed me how to hold it, how to aim, how to spray in a sweeping motion rather than a single stream.
"It's effective up to ten feet, but aim for six to eight for accuracy.
Hold your breath when you spray so you don't catch the blowback.
Aim for the face, spray, and run. Don't wait to see if it worked. Just go."
"Spray and run. Got it."
Reed handed me the canisters. "Practice taking it out of your purse. You need to be able to grab it fast, without looking. Muscle memory."
I practiced the motion—hand in purse, fingers finding the canister, thumb on the trigger—until it felt automatic.
"Good." Reed checked his watch. "We should probably head out. Don't want Felicity to think I kidnapped you."
As I gathered my things, Reed caught my arm gently, pulling me in and resting his palm on the side of my face while touching his nose to mine. "I know this stuff is scary. But you did great tonight."
"I'm still terrified."
"That's okay. Fear can be useful if you don't let it paralyze you." He leaned in for a short kiss. "The restraining order will help. And now you have tools if you need them. That's all we can do—be prepared and hope we never have to use any of it."
On the drive back to my apartment, I caught myself practicing the movements in my head. Break the grip. Strike the vulnerable points. Escape.
"Thank you," I said as Reed pulled up to my building. "For today. For everything."
"You don't have to thank me." His expression was serious in the dim light from the street lamps. "I just want you to be safe."
"I know. But still. Thank you."
He parked and came upstairs with me. Felicity had already put the kids to bed, and she gave us both knowing looks before gathering her things to leave.
"They were angels," she said, kissing my cheek. "Lucas finished his homework without being asked, and Zoe made it into three of the five agreed-upon bedtime stories before she passed out."
After she left, Reed moved methodically through the apartment, his fingers testing each window latch with a soft click.
I watched his shoulders relax slightly when the deadbolt slid home with a satisfying thunk.
In the kitchen, the kettle whistled as I pulled down two mugs.
The blanket and pillow I'd arranged on the couch still held the indent from where he'd lain the night before, positioned perfectly between my bedroom door and the apartment entrance.
"You should get some actual sleep tonight," I said, handing him a mug. "You must be exhausted."
"I'm staying—at least until the restraining order comes through.
" His tone left no room for argument. "Once that's official, once Bryce gets served and knows there are legal consequences, then we can relax a little.
But until then—" He settled onto the couch, pulling the throw blanket over his lap.
"I'm not leaving you and the kids alone at night. "
Something warm bloomed in my chest. "Reed—"
"Please don't argue. Just accept that I'm a stubborn asshole who's going to camp out on your very uncomfortable couch until I know you're protected."
I smiled despite myself. "It's not that uncomfortable."
He shifted, and the couch let out a creak that sounded like a complaint.
"My spine is finding places between these cushions I'm sure no one knew existed.
" He rotated his shoulder with a wince, but his eyes stayed soft, crinkling at the corners.
"I'd sleep on a bed of nails if it meant being as close as this is to the front door. "
We talked for another hour, our voices low, about everything and nothing. Work stories, childhood memories, the kind of random topics that come up when it's late and you're tired but don't want the conversation to end. Eventually, my eyelids grew heavy.
"Go to bed," Reed said gently. "I'll be right here."
"You sure?"
"Positive. Go."
I stood, then on impulse, bent down toward him.
My fingers found the warmth of his stubbled jaw, rough like sandpaper against my fingertips.
Our lips met, soft and tentative at first, then with quiet certainty.
His breath caught—a small, vulnerable sound that rippled through the stillness of the apartment.
I lingered there, feeling the steady thrum of his pulse beneath my thumb as it traced the sharp curve of his cheekbone.
The faint scent of his soap filled my senses before I pulled away.
My eyes stayed closed for a moment after, savoring the ghost of his touch.
I pressed my lips together, the warmth of our kiss still lingering there. "Goodnight, Reed." The words barely disturbed the air between us.
His eyes caught the dim light as he looked up at me. "Goodnight, Maliyah."
As I lay in bed, I could see the glow from the living room—Reed on his phone, probably scrolling through social media. Knowing he was there, knowing I wasn't facing this alone, made sleep come easier than it had in days.
Maria had said we'd hear about the temporary order by the end of the week. Three more days of Reed on my couch. Three more days of this fragile peace.
For the first time since seeing Bryce at the farmer's market, I felt something close to safe.
For the love of all things holy, let it last.