25

Reid

Saving her should have been the end of it.

A clean, sharp moment of intervention followed by distance. At least that's what I told myself. Step in if necessary. Walk away immediately after. No lingering…

But rules are only useful when your body listens to your head.

Mine didn’t.

From the second I left her standing there, I felt off balance, like I’d stepped off solid ground into a pit. My heart wouldn’t slow, and I developed a constant migraine.

I kept reviewing the scene with Arlyn on the way home. Her eyes. The way she said please. The way my name almost slipped from her mouth when she tried to thank me.

That was the worst part.

Not the boys. Not the confrontation.

The fact that she still reached for me instinctively.

I locked my apartment door and leaned my forehead against it for a long moment, breathing through my mouth like my therapist once taught me.

It didn’t help.

My place was quiet in the particular way that amplifies everything you don’t want to hear. Your own thoughts, your own pulse, the echo of memories you keep sealed tight until they force the lid open.

I dropped my bag on the floor and paced.

Sat. Stood. Ran a hand through my hair. Checked my phone even though I knew there would be nothing on it. No messages. No missed calls. Nothing from her.

"Good," I told myself.

That was good.

And yet my chest ached like something essential had been knocked out of alignment.

I tried working. I opened my laptop and stared at the same paragraph of my thesis until the words blurred. Closed it again. Tried reading. Tried making dinner. Burned the food because I forgot it was on the burner.

Eventually, I gave up pretending I was anything but dysfunctional.

I think I need a drink… a really strong one.

The bar was three minutes from my building. A small, dim place I’d passed a hundred times and never stepped into. Not my scene. Too loud. Too messy. Too many variables.

Which was probably why I ended up there.

I didn’t think about it. Thinking was the problem. I grabbed my jacket, shoved my keys into my pocket, and walked until the low hum of conversation and clinking glass swallowed me whole.

The place smelled like wood polish, citrus, and old stories. Soft music played from speakers mounted too high, the kind you don’t notice until it stops. I took a seat at the bar, choosing a stool tucked slightly away from the center.

“What’ll it be?” the bartender asked.

I hesitated.

“I don’t know,” I said honestly.

He raised an eyebrow. “Rough day?”

I let out a breath that might’ve been a laugh. “Something like that.”

He nodded like that was all the explanation required. “Whiskey?”

I almost said no.

Almost.

“Sure.”

The first sip burned, and I welcomed it. The second went down easier. By the third, something in my shoulders loosened, just a fraction. The constant tight coil in my chest unwound enough for me to breathe without effort.

I drank faster than I should have. I knew that. Not because I was chasing oblivion but because I wanted quiet. I wanted my head to stop replaying the same moments on a loop.

The fourth glass blurred the edges.

The fifth made me reckless.

I laughed at something the bartender said, surprising both of us. My body felt warm and heavy in a way that made it harder to stand up straight but easier to sit still.

I didn’t notice Alex until he was already beside me.

“Thought that was you,” he said grimly.

I squinted at him, processing. “Alex.”

My drunken state distorted his name, slurring the word in my mouth.

“Wow,” he muttered, pinching his nose in disgust. “You reek of alcohol.”

I frowned, rushing to defend myself. “I’m not drunk.”

He glanced at the empty glasses lined up in front of me. “Buddy, you are absolutely drunk.”

“Huh.” I couldn't think of anything better to say.

Alex pulled out the stool next to mine and sat. He didn’t smile. That should have warned me something was coming my way.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

He snorted. “I live nearby. I come here sometimes. You, on the other hand, avoid bars like they personally offended you.”

“Needed a drink.”

He looked at the empty glasses and shook his head, his face serious. “Plural, apparently.”

I shrugged, the movement a little less controlled than usual. “Don’t start.”

He studied me for a moment, eyes sharp in that way that meant he wasn’t going to let this go. Alex had known me long enough to recognize avoidance as my default coping mechanism.

“You’ve been off,” he said.

“I’m fine.”

“Liar.”

I sighed. “I’m tired.”

“You’ve been tired for weeks.”

“That’s called life.”

“No,” he said calmly. “That’s called you shutting down… or running away from something.”

I stared into my glass. The amber liquid rippled slightly, like it couldn’t hold still either.

Alex leaned back, crossing his arms. “I’m done pretending I don’t see it. You show up. You go through the motions. You disappear. You don’t laugh. You don’t argue. You don’t feel. You’re like a shell of yourself, and I’m sick of watching it.”

The words hit harder than I expected.

“Drop it,” I said.

“No.”

I clenched my jaw. “Alex.”

“Level with me,” he said. “What’s going on?”

I opened my mouth to deflect. To joke. To shut it down.

Instead, what came out was, “I kissed someone I shouldn’t have.”

Huh-uh…

Alex blinked, his brain unable to keep up with the confession. “Okay.”

“And then I walked away.”

I saw the understanding creep into his eyes, and I had said too much already, but I couldn't control my loose tongue.

“And now I can’t stop thinking about her.”

There it was.

Hanging between us like a confession I hadn’t planned on making.

Alex stared at me for a long second, then whistled low.

“Wow. Now I know you are drunk. The Reid I know wouldn't have blurted that out even if a gun was pointed his way.”

I shot him a scalding look.

“Sorry,” he said apologetically. “Go on.”

I ran a hand down my face.

“It’s complicated.”

“Of course it is.”

“She’s… connected to my family.”

His expression shifted, humor fading. “Ah.”

As if he suddenly understood everything.

“Yeah.”

“So you did the noble thing,” he said. “Created distance. Shut it down. Pretended it never happened.”

“Yes.”

“And that worked?”

I laughed then… a short, bitter sound. “I wish it did, but… sadly, no.”

Alex nodded slowly. “Didn’t think so, or you wouldn’t be here trying to drown yourself.”

I stared at the bar top, the polished wood reflecting a slightly distorted image of myself. That was exactly how I felt.

“I saved her today.”

“Saved her how?”

“She was being harassed, and I stepped in.”

“And?”

“And I walked away again.”

“Why?”

“Because staying would have been worse.”

“For whom?”

“For both of us.”

Alex leaned closer. “Reid, you can’t keep living like every feeling is a threat. It only shows you human too.”

“They are,” I said quietly.

“No,” he countered. “They’re proof you’re alive.”

I scoffed. “Easy for you to say.”

“Is it?” he asked. “Because from where I’m sitting, you’re miserable.”

Silence stretched.

I swallowed. “I don’t trust myself with her.”

Alex’s voice softened. “Why?”

Because I want her, I thought.

“I don’t do halfway,” I said instead. “If I fall, I fall hard.”

“And?”

“And she doesn’t deserve to be collateral damage.”

Alex considered that. “You don’t give her much credit.”

I stiffened. “That’s not—you don't know the whole story. You don't know the fate that links us together.”

“True, I don't see the big picture… But I do know one thing for sure. You’re deciding everything for her,” he continued. “Assuming she can’t choose. Assuming she can’t handle the consequences.”

“That’s not fair.”

“No,” he agreed. “It’s not.”

I rubbed my temples. My head was starting to ache, alcohol and emotion colliding messily. “I’m trying to protect her.”

“Or yourself.”

I blinked. That landed too close to the truth.

I exhaled slowly but didn't say anything. There was nothing to say.

Alex was quiet for a moment, then said, “You know what I see?”

I didn’t answer.

“I see my friend drowning because he’s convinced the shore is more dangerous than the water.”

I closed my eyes.

“I don’t know how to fix this,” I admitted.

“You don’t have to fix it tonight,” he said. “But you can’t keep pretending it doesn’t exist.”

I opened my eyes and looked at him. “What if wanting her ruins everything?”

Alex smiled sadly. “What if not wanting her ruins you?”

We sat there in silence after that, the noise of the bar flowing around us like a separate world. Eventually, Alex paid the tab and stood.

“Come on,” he said. “I’m walking you home.”

“I can walk.”

“Sure,” he said dryly. “And I can fly.”

Outside, the night air was cool against my flushed skin. My steps were unsteady, my thoughts even more so.

As we walked, one truth settled heavy and unavoidable in my chest.

Distance had always been my armor.

But right now that armor felt too heavy.

And all I wanted to do was shed it off and race to her.

Pathetic.