Page 99 of Small Sacrifices

Neither one of them moves to start that conversation. For a while, the two of them just look at each other.

Reid is about to propose waking Max and having breakfast when Everett sighs sharply. "Look, can you hold me for a moment? I just need to..." He doesn't finish the sentence, but he doesn't need to. Reid is already moving. It's difficult to figure out how to cuddle Everett the way he wants—"Just wrap yourself around me, Jesus, I don't care if it hurts"—without jostling his ribs, but they manage.

At first, it feels strange for Reid. He's not used to being the one offering comfort; he's usually the one receiving it. Even from his older sisters, who are smaller than him. He used to think it must feel odd for them with the size difference. But as he lies there with Everett in his arms, breathing in his scent and focusing on the present moment, it starts to feel more natural. Maybe comfort is something he can give, not just take.

"Is this what you need?" Reid asks softly.

The disgruntled sound Everett snuffles into the junction between Reid's neck and shoulder makes him shiver. "I don't know yet."

"Oh?"

He feels rather than sees Everett shrug. "I tend to drown my feelings with sex or alcohol when they get to this point. Never really tried it any other way. It's nice, though."

Right. Someone isdefinitelygoing to go to therapy, even if Reid has to drag him there himself. Not that he has any room to talk about not knowing how to feel about something.

It takes repeated pinging from Reid's phone before he reaches out for it. There are already quite a few messages from Briana. He doesn't even have the bandwidth to feel guilty about leaving her hanging. Instead, he opens the message thread with Marisol.

Jesus fucking Christ.

Reid, I need you to ask your boy if he's sure he wants us to release this without censoring anything. It's brutal.

Of course she watched it immediately. Reid wonders if Everett even sent it to Lieutenant Governor Coleman or directly to Marisol. Instead of asking, he just shows Everett the screen. In return, he gets a grunt.

"Just rip off the Band-Aid. Censoring it would only be to my father's benefit. I'm not interested in that."

Without thinking about it too much, Reid sends off an affirmative message and puts his phone to the side again. There's a peace in snuggling like this that he doesn't think he's ever experienced. Even with everything that's happened, he feels full with it. It should be overwhelming, he thinks. He doesn't tend to like touch. But now, he just wants to hold Everett more tightly and never let him go. Sadly, his phone pings again.

Gotcha.

Do you think we could get a picture? It might be effective to show this wasn't just a kerfuffle.

Looking at Everett with his swollen eye, the wordkerfuffletastes sour on Reid's tongue. Whatever the video shows, surely the governor's words would be enough to show just how bad this was. Not for the first time, Reid curses the fact that people are so visual.

Watching Everett move slowly as he gets out of bed is painful. Reid opens the curtains to let in more natural light and hesitates. The camera captures the bruising and scratches well, and the blue splint on Everett's fingers is hard to miss. But Everett's shirt hides his ribs. Reid frowns. Asking him to undress feels wrong—he's already vulnerable. But broken ribs would be bruised, right?

As Everett raises his shirt, Reid is confronted with two bruises in a very distinct crescent shape, like the sloped toe box of Governor Mackenzie's way too expensive dress shoes. Even on the mottled background, they stand out starkly. Reid clenches his teeth and breathes through his galloping heartbeat until he manages to take a few pictures that aren't too blurry.

When he has his phone back, Everett sends one of the images to Marisol without even looking at it. And then reaches for Reid.

It feels like second nature for Reid to take the few steps towards him, rise onto his tiptoes, and loop his arms around Everett's shoulders. They can't stay like this forever. Reid is going to need to eat something soon if he wants to make it through the day. Everett needs to go talk to Max. Once the video is released, their lives are likely to devolve into pandemonium. But for now, it's alright.

Chapter 35: Independence

Chaos seems too mild a term to describe the state of Reid's life over the next few days. His apartment quickly proves to be a poor refuge. Within a few hours of them waking up, the first journalist knocks on the door.

With no close friends for Everett to turn to, Reid reluctantly asks his sister if she can house two strangers in her guest bedroom. Luckily, Briana has both the extra space and a doorman, which helps keep the intrusive questions at bay. But that doesn't mean that Reid is safe. Once Briana learns he quit, her questions are relentless.

Watching Lieutenant Governor Coleman's first press conference makes Reid sick to his stomach, and he's grateful that Everett isn't there to see him. When they show the video Everett recorded, he can't scramble off the couch fast enough to get away from the horrible words Mackenzie said.

Observing the aftermath is much more satisfying. News programs don't even seem to know which part of the story they want to cover first. When Everett doesn't comment, Ms. Greene does. Important people start saying Robin's name in the same breath as the governor's. They ask if Mackenzie could be held criminally liable for Robin’s death.

A week later, the impeachment proceedings have started, and no one uses that title anymore. At most, they call Mackenzie the former governor, like it's a done deal. Reid much prefers it when news anchors call him analleged child abuser and homophobe.It gets even better when external sources prove that Mackenzie knew about the health risks to the children. People take to the streets again and make some really creative signs. It’s amazing.

There's much debriefing to be done. Interim Governor Coleman listens patiently as Reid recounts every little detail of the past few weeks. It's not like he's got much else to do. So far, no one's replied to any of his applications.

When he's finished speaking, Coleman hums. "And what do you think of the way in which you lost your job?"

Reid bristles. "I didn’t lose my job. I quit. It felt like the only thing I could do under the circumstances. I…" He takes a deep breath. "Knowing what I knew, I couldn’t stay."

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