C4 FOUR

Lizzie's POV

The car ride was stiflingly silent. I fumbled with my phone, trying in vain to reach my mum, but her number remained frustratingly unreachable.

Reed would occasionally glance in my direction but his attempts to reassure me fell flat.

"We should book a flight to Michigan immediately," I suggested.

"We need to be there with them."

His response was a pointed glance.

"I thought you hated hospitals."

"This is different, Reed," I snapped.

"My dad could be seriously hurt, and you're just sitting here making snide remarks."

He held up his hands defensively, but his tone remained firm.

"Hey, calm down, Bits. I'm just saying, you've always avoided hospitals like the plague. You even passed out when Evie broke her arm in eighth grade, remember?"

I glared at him.

"That's beside the point," I retorted.

"This is about my dad, not my fear of hospitals."

He sighed, a hand running through his hair.

"Look, I understand you're worried, but let's not make rash decisions," he said calmly. "We'll wait for news from your mum, and then we can figure out the best course of action."

Reluctantly, I nodded, sinking back into my seat.

Reed continued to drive until we reached his house, a pristine white structure with a black roof and a soft glow of gold lights.

Despite its elegance, I couldn't muster any admiration.

Reed cut the engine, his voice soft as he asked, "Coming?"

"No," I replied tersely, my eyes fixed on his home.

He sighed heavily.

"You can't sit out here all day, Izzie."

"Then take me to the goddamn airport," I demanded.

"I told you no already," he said firmly, getting agitated.

"Well, screw you, then," I snapped.

"Are you kidding me?" he bellowed.

"John wouldn't want you there, Izzie! Your mother told me to keep you here with me, so stop being a brat, get out of the car, and come into the goddamn house already!"

His words hit me like a slap in the face, the shock of his outburst momentarily silenced me.

Frustrated and embarrassed, I gripped the door handle and pushed out of the car, tears brimming as I reached towards his front door.

I refused to let the tears fall in front of him as he followed closely behind me.

We stepped into his home, and he led me to the living room with the pristine white furniture and an electric fireplace with a coffee table.

"Sit, Bits. Please," he urged gently, motioning to the sofa.

His voice was softer now.

I complied, curling up on the couch as tears welled up.

"Damn it, Bits," he muttered, his hand running through my hair.

"He'll be okay. Stop crying."

“He wouldn’t want to see you this way.”

"I don't care what he wants right now," I sobbed, the floodgates of emotion finally opening.

"I just want to see him. I want to know he's okay."

Reed's touch on the back of my neck was gentle, his reassurances a balm to my frayed nerves.

"He'll be okay," he repeated softly, his eyes meeting mine.

As he stood up, offering to get a drink, I shook my head.

He hesitated, then walked away, leaving me alone.

I couldn't shake the fear gnawing at me.

What if he didn't make it? The sound of Reed's voice on the phone in the distance brought me back to the present.

He was talking to mom.

He settled beside me with a glass of whiskey in hand,

"He'll be okay," he murmured, more to himself than to me.

I glanced up at him as he took a sip of his drink. "You love my dad?" I asked.

Reed wasn’t the type to admit he loved a man or anyone.

It was a childish question but I asked it anyway.

"He's my best friend. Love him like a brother," he replied.

I watched as he took another sip of his drink, the amber liquid glinting in the light.

"What are you drinking?" I asked.

"Glengoyne. Strong stuff. And expensive," he answered, the corners of his lips quirking up in a faint smile.

"Can I try it?" I asked tentatively.

He hesitated,looking between the glass and I and then handed me the glass.

"A little," he conceded.

As I accepted the glass, the liquid burned my throat.

I took another sip, then another, until Reed grumbled and took the glass away, refilling his own without offering me more.

"I'm scared, Cane," I confessed.

“What if he dies?”

"He won't," he replied, his voice steady.

I let out a bitter laugh, the sound catching in my throat as tears threatened to spill over.

"What do you want me to do to make you feel better?" he asked, his voice low and husky.

I couldn't find the words to answer him.

My eyes drooped to his hands, then his eyes.

I knew what I wanted but it was impossible to ask.

"Just... hold me"

He wrapped his arm around me, pulling me close until my cheek was pressed against his chest.

His chin rested on the top of my head, and I could feel the tension draining from his body as he sighed.

I shifted, nestling closer to him, accepting the warmth of his large body.

The smell of his cologne invaded my senses.

Musk and manly, mingling with the faint hint of whiskey on his breath.

My hand rested on his lap, dangerously close to his groin.

He noticed the proximity of my hand, his gaze flickering down before returning to meet mine. I swallowed hard, toying with the hem of his shirt.

Leaning in closer, I felt the warmth of his breath against my skin,

His grip tightened around my waist and I bet he didn’t realize it.

I slid my hand down, feeling the hardness beneath the fabric of his pants. His breath hitched, and I made sure my breasts were pressed against him.

"Lizzie," he murmured but I couldn't bring myself to stop. I continued to stroke him.

His grip tightened and I didn't mind when his lips hovered mine.

"Should I stop?" I whispered.

"You know you should," he muttered against my lips, but his actions spoke louder than words.

I couldn't believe this was happening, and I refused to pass this chance up.

Reed was hard for me, and I wanted him too.