My forehead bunched together. “What exactly are you getting at?”
He held up his hands like he was surrendering. “I’m not trying to piss you off, and your girlfriend may be amazing. But I thought my girl had been amazing too. I’d admired how strong she was, and how she never wanted help from anyone. How she’d never let anyone into her and her daughter’s life before me. How she supported her and her daughter all by herself. It wasn’t until push came to shove that everything began unraveling, and I found out everything had been bullshit. An illusion that the four of us—hell, maybe even more—had fallen for.”
My body had locked up at some point, and I had to force myself to start breathing again. Keeping my expression blank so he wouldn’t realize he’d just explained Reagan perfectly, I stared at him for a bit longer as I tried to block the words he’d just told me, and finally shook my head. “You don’t know my girlfriend.”
“All right. I’m sorry, you’re right, I don’t. I just . . . when you said she was your girlfriend, it was like déjà vu, and I wish there’d been someone to warn me. So, I had to at least give you something to think about. I told you, she might be amazing. That was just my experience, and I felt like I needed to warn you or something. Sorry for overstepping my bounds.”
“Let’s just finish this shoot, yeah?” I walked over to grab my camera, and no matter how hard I tried not to think about it . . . I couldn’t stop.
His story, and thoughts of what Saco was currently going through, flooded my mind. One with an ex-girlfriend who matched mine. One with a wife who had succeeded in trapping him in a marriage by getting pregnant. I’d never once worn a condom with Reagan. Even though she’d avoided men, she’d been on the pill ever since Parker was born.
Or, that’s what she’d told me.
Now that I thought about it. That didn’t make sense.
No . . . no. I knew Reagan. I knew her. I loved her. I loved Parker.
But then, why would she suddenly let in a guy after so many years of avoiding them? And a guy like me? I was damaged. I had demons. I was constantly trying to figure out what I’d done to deserve someone like her . . . and now us together made even less sense. Had I seemed like an easy target? Someone who would easily believe her story?
Pressing my hand against my forehead, I willed all this bullshit to leave my mind. I’d never doubted us, or been suspicious of her, until five minutes ago. And it was only because of that fucking story. I knew Reagan. She wouldn’t—Christ. I’d just told Brody that I wanted to marry her and wanted to be Parker’s dad. He was right. Not even three months later and I was already thinking about marrying her? I couldn’t do this. I just—I couldn’t.
Reagan—November 1, 2010
PARKER’S FACE LIT up when there was a knock on the door, and I nodded my head in the direction of it.
“Want to guess who that is?”
His smile got wider before he took off running for the door. “Coen! Did you have fun shooting that guy?”
I laughed and sighed. We somehow needed to get Parker off that whole “shooting” thing.
“Uh . . . yeah. I did.”
“Are you gonna stay tonight? I want you to take me to school tomorrow.”
I raised an eyebrow as they rounded the corner into the living room. Parker’s excitement was quickly draining from his face, and Coen looked like someone had just punched him in the stomach.
“Yeah, I don’t know about that. We’ll talk about it later.”
Parker shot me a confused look, and I tried to compose my expression, but didn’t catch it in time. He looked back and forth between us before walking over to stand next to me.
I took a step toward Coen, but stopped when his near-black eyes met mine. “Are you feeling okay? Did something happen?”
“No, I’m fine,” he clipped out, his voice rough and low.
I glanced down at Parker when he wrapped an arm around my hip, and looked back at Coen—who was now looking in the kitchen. Clearing my throat, I tried to ease the awkward tension that had settled. “Well, do you have something in particular you want for dinner?”
“Whatever you want,” he mumbled.
“Coen.”
He looked back at me and shrugged. “I said whatever you want, Ray. Order what you want.”
My eyes widened and my lips parted. He wasn’t raising his voice, but this Coen . . . well I’d never seen this Coen.
“Are you mad at Mom?” Parker asked from by my side, and my chest started aching right then.
Parker hadn’t asked Coen if he was being mean to me since the very first time he met him, and he’d never asked if Coen was mad at me. If he was catching onto the weighted feel to the room too, then I knew it wasn’t my imagination, and I hated that he was witnessing this at all—whatever this was.
“Parker, honey, can you go to your room so I can talk to Coen?”
Coen shot me a look like he didn’t understand why I would want to talk, and Parker moved in front of me and tilted his head back to better see me.
“But he’s mad at you,” he said softly.
I put a smile on my face for him and ran my hand through his hair. “No, he’s not, but I do need to talk to him. Just adults, so can you go to your room until I come get you? You can take my iPad and play your games on there,” I added when he didn’t look like he would budge.
“Okay!” Running over to grab my iPad from off the couch, he took off for his room and shut the door.
“Co—”
“Why’d you do that?” he asked gruffly.
“Send him to his room? You’re acting weird, and he could tell. I want to figure out what’s going on and fix it, and I don’t want him around for that.”
He put his hands out to the side. “There’s nothing to fix, Reagan.”
“Even Parker thought you were mad at me, and you’ve only been here for three minutes. So something happened that you aren’t telling me, or you are mad at me. Either way, we’re going to talk it out, or argue it out like we always do, and I don’t want Parker to see that. So tell me what’s going on.”
“Oh my God,” he groaned into his hands as he ran them down his face. “Nothing is going on.”
“I just saw you thirty minutes ago, Coen, and you were fine.”
“And I’m still fine!”
“No, you’re not!”
He laughed, but it was coated with irritation, and shook his head. “Whatever.” Grabbing his keys out of his pocket, he turned and began walking toward the door. “I’m not dealing with this tonight.”
“What—you’re not dealing with what tonight? You’re upset, and I want to know why!”
“This, your constant nagging. Jesus Christ.” He turned to face me. “I barely get in the door and you’re already on me trying to figure out if something’s wrong.”
My jaw dropped. “At your studio, you were the one who hinted at staying tonight, then when Parker asks you, you tell him you don’t know and sound like that is the absolute last thing you want to do.”
“I’m sorry for not wanting to spend the night, Reagan. I’m sorry I don’t want to take Parker to school tomorrow. Sometimes I need a night and a morning to myself. I’m not your husband, he’s not my fucking child. It is not my job to take care of you!”
I stumbled back a couple steps and shook my head back and forth. “What?” Hearing a sound off to my right, I turned and saw Parker standing in the hall. “Room,” I choked out, and watched until he disappeared.
“I need space. I need to step back so I can just think.” His tone had dropped the angry edge, and was now replaced with a heavy exhaustion. “Our entire relationship has moved so fast, and I just—I don’t know. But I need time.”
My heart dropped, and I couldn’t move—couldn’t respond. This wasn’t happening. My lips parted, but only a short, ago
nized cry left me. As if someone had dropped a weight on my chest.
“I’m sorry, Reagan,” he said quickly as he turned and walked out the door.
I stood there for countless minutes staring at the door as I tried to compose myself. I wouldn’t cry. I refused to cry. I’d been protecting us for years from men, and this was why. Because of this possibility. Because Parker had fallen in love with him just as much as I had, like I’d known would happen. Because he ran, just like I’d known he would.
Locking my jaw when it began quivering, I curled my hands into fists. I would. Not. Cry.
He was no better than Austin. If he didn’t want us, then it was his loss. We didn’t need him, we were fine alone.
Alone after experiencing life with Coen seemed impossible, and that one word had me falling to the floor as a strained sob burst from my chest.
Reaching into my back pocket, I pulled out my phone and tapped on the screen a few times before putting it to my ear. My body shook relentlessly as I tried to hold back the sobs, and they just pushed through harder.
“Hey, Ray.”
“Kee-Keegan,” I choked out.
“What’s wrong?” he shouted.
“I need y-you . . . here. I need you here.”
I heard shuffling and keys. “Are you at your apartment? I’m coming, what happened?”
Strained cries were all that left me for long moments. “Yes, just please.”
“I’m coming.”
Putting the phone on the ground, I wrapped my arms around my waist, as if it could somehow hold me together. It didn’t. It felt like I was breaking, and I didn’t know how to even begin to pick up all those pieces of me—of us.
“Mom?”
I looked quickly to the right into Parker’s wide eyes, and tried so hard to stop the tears. But seeing him only made it worse. My heartache for my son was only just beginning, and it was worse than anything I had begun to feel for myself.
“Did Coen go back to his house?”
When I couldn’t speak, I just nodded, and Parker seemed to accept that and sat on the floor next to me.
“He’ll come back,” he said softly.
If I could have stopped the crying to take care of my son right then, I still wouldn’t have been able to respond to that. Because even if Coen tried to come back, I wasn’t sure I would let him.
Coen—November 1, 2010
MY PHONE RANG for the fifth time in a row, and as I reached down to shut it off, I caught sight of Saco’s name, and answered.
“Hel—”
“You just left them? What the fuck is wrong with you?” he yelled, cutting me off.
“Christ, did Hudson call you?”
“Yeah, he did. And, Steele, he’s fucking pissed and coming after you.”
I groaned and tightened my grip on the steering wheel. I’d been driving around for hours. Not knowing or caring where I was going . . . just going in circles. “I wouldn’t expect anything else from him.”
“I don’t understand, we just talked like, six hours ago. You told me you wanted to adopt Parker. Fuck, Steele, you told me you wanted to marry her!”
“I know, I—”
“How can something like that change so drastically in just hours?”
“I freaked, okay? I was thinking about all of it, and I—it just scared the shit out of me. You were right, I went from not wanting anything steady to wanting to get married and adopt a six-year-old in less than three months. Who does that? I just. Fucking. Freaked.”
“But I wasn’t trying to get you to leave them! I was trying to get you to not rush into a marriage! You could have called me and talked to me about it before just up and leaving her with no warning.”
I kept talking like he hadn’t spoken. “I started doubting everything. Doubting my ability to be his dad, doubting my wanting to even be a dad. Doubting if Reagan actually loves me, or if she just loves me for her son.”
“Are you fucking blind? I’ve never even seen the two of you together except in pictures, and I know that’s not true. Hudson told me she never let anyone in before you. Over six years of avoiding people, and you’re the one who breaks through that . . . and all of a sudden you think she doesn’t love you?”
“Shit, no. I don’t know! I told you, it just all came at me at once and I freaked. Don’t fucking judge me. Your cunt of a wife refused to let you see her or your kid, and you jumped through hoops to be able to see him. Dropped your career, bought a house, did everything she demanded of you . . . and at the time, you couldn’t have even been positive he was your damn kid!”
“Don’t fucking spin this around onto me. I’m not the one who just ditched Reagan and Parker! With my situation, I manned up and took responsibility. You’re starting to see all the responsibility that comes with being with them, and you left.”
“I’m not putting it on you, I’m trying to tell you. You handled it your way, even though we all thought you were fucking insane. Now I’m handling this my way. Just because we chose to handle situations differently doesn’t mean you can chew me out for this shit.”
He huffed and started laughing, but his tone wasn’t amused. “You can’t begin to compare what I did and what you just did. I knocked my girlfriend up. I wasn’t about to let her go through that alone, no matter what was going on between us. You willingly went into a relationship with Reagan knowing she had a son and trust issues. Then when it started getting serious and you had a moment of panic, you left. Totally. Different.”
Of course they were different. I just needed something . . . anything to try and justify what I’d just done.
“What happened to ‘I will never quit,’ huh?”
My brow furrowed when I realized what he was saying. It was from part of the Soldier’s Creed.
“So you’re saying,” I began, my voice dark, “that no matter what relationship I got into, if I broke up with the girl, you’d use that shit against me? Question me as a man and soldier? Fuck. You. Saco.”
“No, and you know I’m not. From what you and Hudson have said, and what I’ve seen . . . I know this isn’t just a relationship for you. This is your future, and you’re being a bitch because you had a moment where you let your fears and insecurities get to you. Do you think I don’t have days where I’m terrified that I’m gonna fuck up? That Tate could have a better dad than me? Just because I worry, doesn’t mean I’m going to leave my son.”
“Parker isn’t my son.”
“Wow. Coming from the guy who not even a week ago claimed Parker as his son without a second thought. Hudson told me about that too, asshole.” There was a beat of silence before Saco sighed. “He’s not your blood, but that’s your son. From the way you said that, I know you don’t even believe the shit you’re saying.”
I didn’t, and I wanted to die for even letting the thought cross my mind.
I’d spent that night, and the next day, in my studio trying to edit. Trying to do anything to get my mind off Reagan and Parker. Nothing was helping. I’d been the one to get scared and leave them. I’d been the one to call it off before any of us could get more invested. But now I felt hollow.
I couldn’t go back to my place without seeing them there, and here, in the studio, flashes of Reagan and I together were hitting me hard.
I hadn’t slept for more than thirty minutes last night before I’d woken in a panic, completely drenched in sweat. And this time, it hadn’t been flashbacks of my time in the army. There hadn’t been a flashback, nightmare, or dream . . . just the sense that I’d physically lost both Parker and Reagan and couldn’t find them.
Hudson was calling me every few hours to yell at me, and though I’d grabbed my phone to call Reagan over a dozen times, I hadn’t gone through with it and she’d never tried to get ahold of me.
My phone rang, and I grabbed for it quickly. Disappointment
and regret poured through me when I saw Saco’s name instead of Reagan’s. My thumb hovered over the red button before I gave in and hit the green.
“Hello?” Nothing came from the other side. “Saco, you there?”
A pained cry sounded, and I looked at the screen on my phone to confirm it was Saco, before I tried talking to him again.
“You there? What’s wrong?”
Silence greeted me for long seconds, and just as I started to say something again, his strangled voice came over the line. “He’s gone.”
“What? Who’s gone?” Panic filled me thinking about Parker. But I tried to calm myself, knowing Hudson or Reagan would have been the one to call me about that.
“He’s gone—it’s all my fault—he’s gone.”
“What happened, Saco, who’s gone?”
“Tate,” he finally choked out.
When he didn’t say anything else, and all that met me was hard sobs, I asked, “She took him from you? How can she do that?”
“No!” he yelled, and a groan that didn’t even sound human left him. “I killed him. I killed him—it’s my fault—Tate’s dead. Oh God, he’s dead! I killed my son!”
I almost dropped the phone as I struggled to find my couch to sit down. This had to be some sick, twisted joke because of last night.
Right?
“Fuck!” he roared until more sobs choked off his words.
Wrong.
“What happened?” I finally managed to ask.
“I was driving, and he died. I don’t—I don’t—why couldn’t it have been me?” he yelled, and somehow, I knew he wasn’t asking me that question. “This can’t be happening, he needs to be okay, I’ll do anything. Anything, you hear me? God damn it! Take me instead!”