Chapter 51 #2
"I'll handle dishes," Reed offered, already stacking plates while Zoe deployed her puppy dog eyes.
Felicity stepped in, "Nice try, kiddo. I'm with mom on bath time!" She turned my way, already herding the kids toward the bathroom as she winked at me. "I'll help with baths. You two finish cleaning up…together. Alone"
So subtle, my sister. We worked in comfortable silence, me washing while Reed dried. The domesticity of it made my chest ache in the best way.
"I've been thinking," he said, putting away the last plate.
"Dangerous."
He laughed, then grew serious. "I want to take you out. On a real date. Just us."
"Oh—"
"But I'm going to wait." He turned to face me fully. "Until you ask me."
"What?"
He stepped closer, not touching but close enough that I could smell his soap.
"You need to be ready. Really ready. Because Maliyah.
.." His voice dropped. "Once you ask me out, when we do this, I need you to know—we're talking the long haul here.
This isn't casual for me. I intend for it to be the last first date for either of us. "
My breath caught. "That's a lot of pressure for a first date."
"No pressure. That's why I'm waiting for you to ask." He reached out, tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. "I'll wait as long as you need."
"What if I never ask?"
"Then I'll keep showing up for family dinners and birthday parties and random Tuesdays until you realize I'm not going anywhere.
" His hand ran through my hair at the temple, pulling my face close with the lightest of pressure.
His smile was soft but certain; his voice was quiet and deep.
"I'm patient. And you're worth waiting for. "
Before I could respond, Zoe ran in wearing dinosaur pajamas, hair wet from her bath. "Reed! Story time!"
He looked at me, question in his eyes. I nodded.
"How about we do one story," he said. "Then bed." If routine was anything to go by, it wouldn't be just one story.
As he followed Zoe to the living room, Felicity appeared beside me. "That man is gone for you."
"I know."
"And you?"
I watched Reed settle on the couch, Zoe immediately climbing into his lap with her favorite book. "Yeah. Hey! Let's talk more about you. What's going on?"
"I don't know what you mean! Nothing is going on."
"Nope. Don't give me that. You have news and I want to hear it. I can see it in you. I'm picking up signs, woman!"
"I don't know what you mean," she said, backing toward the door with a grin that said otherwise. "And if I did have news—which I'm not saying I do—I'd probably wait a couple weeks before making it a thing. Night, sis!"
"This isn't over, woman!"
"Got to get home to Caden! Macy, let's hit the road."
Within moments, both Macy and Felicity had rushed out the door, a cloud of dust in their wakes.
I laughed, already feeling a joy for my sister even if she didn’t want to share.
The shadows Bryce had cast over my life were receding now, giving way to unexpected moments of brightness I hadn't thought possible again. Every day I felt a little stronger, and with that strength came ideas I hadn’t dared imagine before.
Not just supporting survivors after the fact, but challenging the laws that failed us long before we ever reached the shelter doors.
By Saturday morning, I was excited to see how Reed's DV program was killing it.
I pulled into the community center parking lot where they were holding their final day of volunteer training.
He'd texted me the night before: Want you to see this.
If you've got the time, swing by around 10 in the morning?
The gymnasium buzzed with controlled energy. Twenty-two volunteers in BPD T-shirts worked through defensive positions while Gloria and two other female officers demonstrated techniques. Reed stood off to the side with his laptop and a clipboard, coordinating like a conductor with an orchestra.
I slipped in quietly, but he spotted me immediately. The smile that lit up his face made my stomach flip.
"Don't stop for me," I called when several volunteers looked over.
Gloria winked and continued her demonstration. "Remember, you're not just teaching these women how to win in an unfair fight. You're trying to help them create space to escape in the event winning isn't an option."
I watched Reed work—directing a volunteer who was setting up refreshments, answering questions from two officers, taking photos for documentation.
He was in his element, competent and sure, but what struck me most was his investment.
This wasn't just a project. His face said it all—focus, determination, and fun. He was having fun with this.
"Maliyah!" One of the volunteers, who I recognized as a counselor from another local shelter, jogged over during a water break. "This is incredible. Looks like the program will start at Harbor House next week?"
"Tuesday," Reed said, joining us. "Eighteen women already signed up."
"With childcare provided," the counselor added. "That's huge. Most of our clients can't leave their kids."
They chatted logistics while I watched Reed—the animation in his face, the pride in his voice. He'd built something that would help women for years to come.
When training wrapped up, volunteers chattering excitedly as they packed up, I waited while Reed finished his notes.
"So?" he asked. "What do you think?"
"I think you're amazing." The words came out more honest than I'd intended.
Pink touched his cheeks. "The team did all the real work."
"Don't do that. Don't minimize what you've built here." I stepped closer. "You saw a need, you filled it, and you did an incredible job. You're going to change lives."
"That's the plan." He closed his laptop. "You have some time to hang out? Or do you have to run already?"
This was it. The moment. My heart hammered against my ribs.
"Actually—" I took a breath. "What are you doing next Friday night?"
His whole body stilled. "Nothing specific."
"Felicity can watch the kids." The words tumbled out faster. "There's this Italian place in the North End I've been wanting to try. If you're interested. In going. With me. On a date."
The smile that spread across his face was worth every butterfly in my stomach. "Maliyah Davenport, are you asking me out?"
The word "yes" caught in my throat before I pushed it out, lifting my chin with a confidence I wasn't entirely sure I felt.
My heart hammered against my ribs as I met his gaze directly.
"I'm asking you out," I said, my voice steadier than my pulse.
"On a real date. Just us. No kids, no work stuff, no distractions—just two adults figuring out what this could be. "
He set his laptop on the bleachers, then stepped into my space, hands framing my face. "I would love to go on a date with you."
"Even with everything that comes with me? All the baggage, the complications, the kids, the history?"
"Especially with all that," he said, thumb stroking my cheek. "I want all of it. All of you."
"Okay. Friday then."
"Friday." He leaned down, pressed his forehead to mine. "Thank you for asking."
"Thank you for waiting."
We stood there in the empty gymnasium, surrounded by the echoes of strength, laughter, and appreciation, and I felt something click into place. Not perfect, not without complications, but right. This was real. I was ready.