10. Reed
reed
. . .
Idrag my broom across the living room floor, its bristles catching on a loose thread in the rug. I shake it free with a grunt and keep going, making steady strokes back and forth until the wood grain reappears.
Dust gathers in the pan with each sweep, tiny flecks catching the lamplight. I empty it into the trash, then lean the broom against the wall in its spot, lined up next to the mop.
Routine. Always routine.
The house is too quiet otherwise.
I wipe down the kitchen counters next, the rag damp with cleaner, the sharp scent of ocean breeze filling the air.
Scrubbing until the surface shines, I then fold the cloth over itself, smoothing the edges before setting it back under the sink.
My boots creak against the hardwood as I walk down the hall. The lights are off in the bedroom, shadows stretching across the floor. My shoulders ache, but I keep going.
As I enter the bathroom, steam from my shower still lingers on the mirror, leaving faint streaks that fog the glass.
I grab the towel hanging by the sink and slowly drag it across the surface, clearing a patch.
My reflection looks back at me; my beard has grown in, lines etched deeper into my face than I remember, and my eyes look way too tired.
My gaze drops to the chain at my neck.
The dog tags rest against my chest, cool metal brushing against my shirt as I shift. I lift them, feeling the familiar weight in my palm, my thumb tracing the grooves of the letters etched into the steel.
Beau.
My throat tightens as I lean closer to the mirror, tags dangling between my fingers, the bathroom light glinting off their edges.
The memory slips in before I can stop it; Beau’s laugh, his big, stupid grin as we cleaned the fire apparatus, always messing around.
His voice was always cocky as hell, promising he’d beat me one day for my time at tying knots.
One stupid accident during a fire containment drill, and I remember it all.
Smoke filled the air, and alarms blared overhead. Flames raced faster than our feet could carry us.
We both collapsed from lack of air, our SCBAs beeping, alerting anyone else in there that our oxygen was low.
I tried to drag him out, but he pushed me away, and his words will forever haunt me.
“Go, brother, it’s okay, go.”
His shout was cut off too soon. I was lucky to get out of there when I could, but the survivor’s guilt I carry consumes me every fucking second of the day.
The fire should have taken me instead, but now I’m left with this grief and disfigurement that’s too heavy to bear most days.
My grip on the porcelain sink tightens as I feel the cold surface beneath my hands.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I try to push the images away, but the memories claw at the inside of my mind until a single tear escapes, sliding down my cheek.
I bow my head as my shoulders tense, and my dog tags clink softly against my chest with a hollow sound that echoes in the bathroom.
My phone rattles against the counter, sharp in the quiet. I flinch, dragging my rough hand over my face, before reaching for it.
The screen lights up the bathroom in a pale blue glow, cutting through the fog on the mirror.
My throat tightens just looking at her name.
For a second, I stand there with my phone in my hand as my heart races faster than it should.
I unlock my phone, and her words fill the screen, small, simple, and sweet, asking if I’d keep her company while she edits.
I can’t help it.
My lips pull into a grin before I’ve even finished reading.
It feels awkward at first, unfamiliar, like a muscle I don’t use, but it settles in deep, tugging at something I thought was long gone.
Hell, I’m a grown man, scarred, worn down, and here I am, smiling at a phone like some idiot.
I rest my elbows against the sink, my dog tags clinking as they fall against my chest. My thumb hovers, hesitant, before I finally type back.
Reed
When you comin’?
The bubbles pop up almost immediately.
Layla
mmmmmm why, miss me?
My pulse races, eyes locked on the screen as her reply shows up.
Something stirs deep in my chest. I swallow hard, adjusting my phone in my hand.
Fuck, what do I say to that?
Reed
Just wondering, sunshine.
God, Reed, don’t you know how to converse with a woman?
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
Not even a second passes before her name lights up again. This time, the words scroll across the screen like her voice in my head; bright, a little messy, and totally her.
Layla
Don’t worry, Reed, i’ll be there soon to brighten your day
A genuine, deep laugh escapes me, echoing off the tile walls. It loosens something inside me, something tightly wound for years.
I bow my head, smile at the screen, and gently brush my thumb over her name before locking it.
Slipping my phone into my pocket, I lift my hand, brushing my stubble as I catch my reflection in the mirror again; same face, same scars, same tired eyes.
But with her words tucked warm in my pocket, the man staring back at me doesn’t seem quite so broken.
I push away from the sink with a slow exhale, the dog tags tapping against my chest as if reminding me where I’ve been, and the possibility that, maybe, I’m no longer stuck there.
Turning off the bathroom light, I make my way to the front door, grabbing my keys from the empty bowl on the entry table. The night air greets me, carrying the faint scent of rain on asphalt. My truck door groans as I open it.
The drive into town is quiet as my truck’s engine hums, its headlights slicing through the dark stretch of highway.
My mind should be on the list waiting for me: stock rotation, invoices, and the keg delivery I need to check this evening, but it drifts.
Always back to her.
I pull into the back lot of Boots & Bourbon, where the neon sign flickers to life, buzzing softly in the night.
Jade opens the bar for me, then closes it so I can reopen it and manage the night shift.
Pushing inside, I flip on the overhead lights one by one. The smell of oak, whiskey, and lemon polish hangs in the air, settling into my bones.
Falling into routine, I wipe down counters, stock clean glasses, and straighten stools that were left crooked. The jukebox hums to life in the corner, soft country twang filling the empty room. My body works, but my mind is elsewhere.
The lock starts shimmying on the front door, taking me out of my routine, and I know it’s either Carter or my other dumbass brother coming to bother me.
“REEDDDD!” Maverick’s voice rattles the bottles on the shelves. “Your favorite brother has arrived, and I come bearing a dire mission from my pregnant wife.”
I don’t even look up from the rag in my hand. “You’re not my favorite anything.”
He slams onto a stool, grinning like a lunatic.
“Amelia is craving olives. Not just any olives. Your olives. The sacred, holy grail olives you hoard back here like they’re liquid gold.
” He leans forward, whispering loudly, “If I don’t bring them home, she’ll bury me alive.
You wanna be responsible for my untimely death? ”
I grunt, reaching under the bar. “You’re dramatic.”
“Dramatic? DRAMATIC?” He slaps the counter with both hands. “Bro, if you’d seen the way she looked at me when I came back without peanut butter cups last week, you’d know this is survival. She’s five-foot-two of pure rage.”
I set the jar on the counter. “Here. Take it and get out.”
He hugs it to his chest. “You’re saving lives tonight, Reed. Specifically mine. I’ll name my next kid after you.”
I roll my eyes. “Maverick, please, shut up.”
Before he can wind up again, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out, thumb swiping across the screen, and her name lights me up from the inside.
Her message sprawls across the screen.
Layla
you left me on read do u hate me
i’m totally joking, don’t take me seriously
*gif of screaming lizard*
A laugh escapes me, making my shoulders shake. I pinch the bridge of my nose, grinning like an idiot.
Maverick leans over the bar, squinting. “Who the hell’s got you laughing like that? What’s this? Who is she? Tell me, or I’ll pry it out of you.”
“Mind your business.”
“Oh, it’s a she.” His grin widens. “You’ve been holding out on me, bro. Turns out it’s some mystery woman making you soft.” He gasps, clutching his chest. “Don’t tell me it’s Catalina. Carter would kill us both, and I’m too pretty to die.”
“Jesus Christ.” I shake my head, pocketing my phone before he can grab it. “It’s not Catalina.”
The low laugh escapes before I can suppress it, and Maverick’s eyes snap open.
“Holy shit. You laughed.” He slaps the counter so hard the olive jar jumps. “Reed Hayes, ladies and gentlemen, has officially laughed again.”
I shake my head and carefully set down a row of glasses. “You’re exhausting.”
“Exhausting? Nah, bro. I’m invigorating.” He throws his arms wide. “I bring life to this dusty old saloon. Without me, you’d just brood into your whiskey until you fossilized.”
“You’re anno—”
His phone buzzes on the bar, screen lighting up. He grabs it, still smiling, but the color drains from his face in the blink of an eye. His jaw drops.
“What?” I ask, brows knitting.
“Catalina says—” His voice cracks. He swallows hard. “Amelia’s water broke.”
My rag stills in my hand, the jukebox humming low in the corner.
Maverick leaps to his feet so quickly that the stool crashes to the floor. “Oh my god. Oh my fucking god. This is it. This is happening.”
He’s pacing, his hair wild as he runs both hands through it, knocking his hat off onto the floor. “I can’t—I’m not—I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. Reed!”
I set the rag down, voice steady. “Start by getting to the hospital.”
He freezes, then points at me. “Yes! Hospital! Fuck—yes. But—” He’s spinning again, practically vibrating out of his skin. “I can’t go alone. Reed, you gotta come with me.”
“Maverick—”
“I’m serious!” His voice rises higher, sounding desperate. “I’m gonna pass out, forget the diaper bag, or drive to the wrong hospital, and Amelia’s gonna divorce me before we even sign the birth certificate. You’re the calm one. The rational one. You keep me from losing it.”
I sigh, wiping my hands on a towel, but the truth is, I’m already moving for my keys. “You’re a grown man, Hayes.”
“Yeah, well, this grown man’s about to be somebody’s dad, and I’m two seconds away from shitting myself. Get in my car, shitbrick.” He’s already rushing for the door, olive jar still in his hand.
We spill out into the night. Maverick’s already halfway to his truck, clutching that damn olive jar.
He fumbles with his phone as he yanks open the driver’s side door, climbing in. “Cat!” he hollers the second the call connects. “Tell Amelia I’m coming! Reed’s with me, we’re on the road!”
I slide into the passenger seat, buckle my seatbelt, and get comfortable as he starts the engine with a shaky hand. His voice fills the cab, full of nerves and desperation.
On the other end, I can hear Amelia screaming. Not terrified, but furious. Her voice crackles through the speaker.
“MAVERICK HAYES, I’M IN LABOR, AND YOU’RE STILL AT THE BAR?!”
He winces. “Baby, wait, don’t yell, it’s bad for your blood pressure—”
“BAD FOR M—?! I WILL KILL YOU WHEN THIS CHILD IS OUT OF ME!”
Maverick’s face twists, but he quickly tries to charm his way out. “Baby, you wanted olives. Please don’t be mad at me, dollface, I’m bringing you olives! Reed saw, tell her, Reed!”
I grunt. “Drive.”
“See?” Maverick points wildly at me, even though Amelia can’t see a damn thing. “He agrees. Olives were essential. I’m a provider.”
Her scream practically rattles the speakers. “I DON’T GIVE A SHIT ABOUT OLIVES! BABY, I NEED YOU HERE!”
“Baby! I’m coming!” He fumbles his phone into the cupholder, muttering, “Jesus Christ, she’s hot when she’s yelling at me.” He laughs to himself. “Fuck, I’m gonna have to put another baby in her.”
“Maverick, shut the fuck up and drive.”
His Bronco rumbles down the highway, Maverick’s knee bouncing against the steering wheel, his breathing ragged.
He mutters half-formed sentences—car seat, diapers, what if the baby hates him—but I’m only partly listening.
Because my phone buzzes in my pocket, again.
Layla
I’m excited to see u when i come out again
Fuck.
A grin slowly forms at my mouth, reigniting something I believed was gone. Maverick’s losing his damn mind beside me, but my thoughts are fixated solely on her.
Always her.