Page 56 of Small Sacrifices

It pains him to see Max so afraid, so certain that his father hurt his brother.

Still, he can't quite skirt the anger encroaching on the sympathy and his own fear like a silent fog.

If it was this bad, bad enough for Max to draw conclusions like this, why didn't Everett say something?

Just as a warning—or to take a precaution.

Did he take any precautions other than getting Max out of the house?

It's a good idea, sure, but it doesn't protect Everett. It only protects Max.

If Max’s and Reid's own anxiety are right, then clearly, Everett would have needed protection. Or possibly backup. What kind of fool—

A wheezing sound rips him out of his thoughts. Max is hugging his knees now, breathing so quickly that Reid immediately knows he needs to do something if he doesn't want to call an ambulance as well.

"Hey, Max," he tries. Unsurprisingly, it does little to nothing. Max's breath hitches, but he doesn't move, and then it goes right back to what it was before.

"Max, can I touch you?" Maybe if he can get him to focus on something outside of his head, that could help.

Max doesn't answer. But that also means he doesn't say no, and Reid can feel his own heartbeat speed up by now. This isn't good. He doesn't remember at what point hyperventilation gets problematic, and that only worries him more.

"Hey, Max," he says again. Only this time, he taps Max on the forearm. It gets him a noise he assumes is acknowledgment.

"Max, you need to breathe. Can you breathe with me?"

Quickly, Reid discovers that the problem with that approach is that it results in him imitating Max and also breathing too fast, which makes him dizzy.

In his haze, he hears Marisol say something about counting.

That sounds like a good idea. He counts out the breaths for Max like he counts them for himself in his own head.

In-two-three, out-two-three. In-two-three, out-two-three.

It helps. Both of them. What also helps is that Marisol keeps talking.

Reid doesn't even know if she's aware she's doing it.

It seems to be some sort of stream of consciousness, about how Everett is a big guy, which means it's more difficult to do serious damage and that's a point in his favor in this situation.

About how she's sure that someone's just doing their due diligence, calling an ambulance just in case, to let the professionals assess the damage.

And then she says something that makes Reid's blood run cold.

"You know, if Everett really needed an ambulance, and they arrested his father, that might even be good. Means they have evidence—that could put him away for a while, couldn't it?"

He remembers the look in Everett's eyes when they were talking about gathering evidence, and then his determination to make sure that Max knew he loved him before he left. Like he knew something bad would happen.

"I think that ambulance has probably arrived in the hospital by now. You could call around, find out if he was in it. If Max says he's Everett's brother, then maybe they'll tell you where he is."

In front of Reid, Max shudders and raises his head.

"You think?" he asks.

"Well, maybe," Marisol says. "It probably depends on what the police told them. Or what Everett told them."

If Everett can tell them anything. God, Reid hopes he can. He hopes he's driving them mad because he won't stop talking. Everett deserves to tell his story, and to have people listen to him. Maybe now they will.

Max scrambles for his phone. Near the couch, Reid can hear him gasp, and then he's sobbing again.

Reid is next to him so fast that he doesn't even remember getting up.

But it turns out to be a good thing. Hand clenched tightly on his phone, Max turns it so that Reid can see the screen. There's a text message from Everett.

im fine. Sacred Heart Hospital. Reid will drive u. u dont need to be scared anymore.

Oh, thank fucking God. Relief makes Reid's entire body feel weightless. If Everett is well enough for full sentences and contractions, then it's all going to be okay.

Suddenly, he's got his arms full of crying teenager.

Max's sobs have subsided into sniffles, which is good, because even now, the sounds are overwhelmingly loud in Reid's ears.

It's after 10 p.m. He's so tired his limbs are heavy.

His mind is awake now, energy coursing through him, but he can still feel the ache in his arms and legs.

And now he's getting more sensitive to sound.

How the hell is he supposed to safely drive a car?

He wraps his arms around Max to hold him, hoping to give him some feeling of safety.

If he's willing to hug a complete stranger, then clearly, he needs it.

For a second, he closes his eyes to calm himself down, and immediately, they grow so heavy that he doesn't even need to make a decision anymore.

Reid won't drive Max to the hospital. But he will keep hugging him, open his phone behind his back, and order a rideshare.