Calmly, Carefully, Completely
Page 14

He may as well have stuck a knife in my chest. “How do you know what I’m ready for?” I ask.
“I saw what that as**ole did to you, Reagan,” he says. He slams his fist down on the kitchen counter, making the dishes jump. And me, too. “I saw you walking around here, jumping at shadows, wrapping yourself in a protective bubble so no one else could hurt you. You learned how to protect your body, but no one ever taught you to protect your heart.” He pounds his fist against his chest. “You’re unprepared for what Pete wants. Completely unprepared.”
“What do you want me to do?” I ask. I can barely hear myself, but Dad hears me.
“Stop it before it’s too late,” he spits out. “Just stop it.”
“Okay,” I breathe. “You win.” I turn and walk out of the room.
I just met him two days ago. Why do I even feel like my soul already knows him intimately? I don’t understand it, either. Maybe Dad’s right.
Pete
I try not to look at her all through dinner. She sits with her brother and her mother, and her dad isn’t here. Her mother motions with her hand for me to come and join them, but I shake my head and focus on my meal.
“Why aren’t you with Reagan?” Tic Tac asks as he sits down beside me.
I shrug my shoulders. I don’t even have the right words to describe it. “What’s your name, man?” I ask.
He smiles. “Edward.”
“People call you Eddie?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “Only one man ever called me Eddie, and I shot him when I caught him raping my little sister.” He avoids my gaze. “So I wouldn’t advise calling me that.” He grins. “Call me shithead or whatever else you want, but don’t call me Eddie.”
“Was he your dad?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “Just some man my mom married.” He looks off into the distance, as though he’s seeing something in his mind instead of what’s all around us. “I shot him,” he says. He makes that little pfffttt sound with his mouth like he did on the bus when he first spoke to me.
Wow. I don’t even know how to respond to that. “How’s your sister doing?” I ask. I think about Reagan and how I found her. And I don’t even want to know about his sister.
“She was only eleven,” he whispers. “Eleven f**king years old.”
I shouldn’t have judged this kid when I met him. “I’m so sorry,” I say.
“It pisses me off because he stole what she could have been, you know?”
I nod, but no, I don’t know.
“Does she live with your mom, now?” I ask.
“No,” he replies. “She’s in the system. My mom got arrested, too. Drugs, I think, right after it happened.” He shrugs. “She’s better off with a nice family.” His eyes get bright. “They said I can visit her when I get out. It’s only for an hour a time and I can’t be alone with her, but that’s all right. I just need to be sure she’s okay.”
I nod. “I don’t have any sisters.”
“Your girl, Reagan,” he says. He smiles. “She looks like she can take care of herself.”
“She can kick my ass.” It’s true.
“You think she’d teach me some of those karate moves?” he asks.
I grin. “You could ask her.”
“I wish somebody had taught my sister how to do some of that stuff.” He gets that faraway look again.
I’m not sure that would have changed her situation, but I nod anyway.
Edward gets up to throw his plate away and turns back to me. “When I get out, do you think I could come hang out with you and your brothers? Phil was telling me how you live close to me.”
I nod. “I don’t see why not.” I don’t know this kid, but I know he’s had a rough time of it, and it was no fault of his own. “We could shoot some hoops.”
He grins. “Okay.” He goes to change into a swimsuit. The youth boys all get the night off. They’re going to use the pool and just play around and be boys for the rest of the evening.
I concentrate on my dinner. Now that Edward’s not here, it’s easier to swallow. I don’t have any sisters, but I have a niece named Hayley, and I’m not the only Reed boy who would kill anyone who tried to hurt her. She’s five, and I haven’t seen her in a long time. Hell, she probably doesn’t even remember me. But I could walk out of here today and give my life for hers with no regrets.
The dining area starts to clear out, and I realize I must have been lamenting over Edward’s situation a little too long. Mr. Caster sits down across from me and rests his elbows on the table. He blows out a breath. “My daughter’s no longer talking to me.”
I don’t respond and shovel a spoonful of spaghetti into my mouth so I’ll have an excuse not to.
“Apparently, she likes you a lot.”
I take a bite of bread. I still don’t speak. The food is hard to swallow.
“Her mom’s not speaking to me, either,” he says. He grins a sideways smile. “I kind of like ha**g s*x with my wife, so I figured I better come over and clear the air.”
I choke on my spaghetti. I look up at him as I try to catch my breath, coughing into my closed fist.
“Women have ways of getting what they want, Pete,” he says. “And my wife wants Reagan to make her own choices.” He inhales and exhales deeply. “I guess you’re her choice.” He jabs a finger at me. “But if you hurt her, so help you God, I will hunt you down and do things to you that can’t even imagine.”
“Yes, sir,” I squeak out. I clear my throat. “I just met her,” I remind him.
He shakes his head. “She’s known you in her head for two and a half years, son. You didn’t just meet her. You became her hero the night you took care of her. Now, how much of that is in her head and her head alone remains to be seen. But she feels a connection to you, and you’re the only one she’s ever let in. So, you’re in, with my blessing.”
I grin. “Thank you, sir.”
I look over to where Reagan’s sitting, but she’s not looking at me. She’s looking at the table. I take the last bite of my food and get ready to go to her. But by the time I get there, she’s already getting up and walking away. “Reagan,” I call to her.
She heaves a sigh and turns toward me. She kicks at a rock with the toe of her flip-flop. “Can I see you later?” I ask.
“Why?” she asks. She doesn’t look me in the eye.
“Oh, good grief,” I mutter.
Her gaze shoots up to meet mine. “Beg your pardon?” she asks.
Her back pocket rings, and she pulls her phone out, looking down at the screen. I see the name Chase before she lifts it to her ear and says hello. She holds up a finger to tell me to wait.
I grit my teeth and wait. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Chase,” she finally says. She’s quiet, but I hear her.
She’s going out with him? Seriously? I know I told her to, but… God. I f**ked up.
“What did you need?” she asks as she sticks her phone back into her back pocket.
I feel like she just punched me in the gut. I shouldn’t feel that way, but I do. “You’re going out with that asshole?” I ask.
She inhales deeply with her eyes closed, as if she’s fortifying herself before she speaks. “You told me to go out with him, Pete,” she says.
I nod. “I did.” She’s right. I’m an idiot. “Do you plan to listen to everything I say?”
She rolls her eyes at me. I’ve never seen anyone roll her eyes and look quite so damn adorable. I grin. I can’t help it.
“What’s so amusing?” she asks, punching her fists into her h*ps as she glares at me.
“This is so f**ked up,” I mutter, more to myself than to her.
But she hears me, and she’s hurt. I can see it on her face.
“I didn’t mean you,” I say.
She cocks her head to the side, her eyes narrowing at me. “Then what did you mean, Pete?”
“I meant this situation.” I gesture from me to her and back again. “This whole thing exists on awful timing.”
She goes to throw her plate in the trash, and I follow her. She stops and spins toward me really quickly and bumps into my chest. She steps back when I reach out to steady her. She smiles and shakes her head. “This really is f**ked up,” she says. She lets out a little laugh.
“So, Chase is the man, huh?” I say. I’m a dummy. I know.
“He’s some guy I have to go on a date with,” she says. She blows her bangs back from her forehead with an upturned breath.
“Can you get out of it?” I ask. Hope blooms inside me.
She shakes her head. “I tried to get out of it, but you told me not to,” she reminds me.
“I was angry. I’m sorry.” If there’s one thing I can do well, it’s apologize. “Your father was pretty much telling you I’m not good enough for you, and for a minute there, I agreed with him.” This time, it’s me who plays with a rock with my toe. I’m afraid of what I’ll see if I look at her.
“I want to try something with you,” she says quietly. She steps close, so close I can feel her breath against my shirt. It’s warm and moist. My heart starts to thud. “Can I touch you?” she asks. She lays a hand on my stomach.
“Yes, please,” I croak. I clear my throat, and she laughs.
Her other hand comes up to lie beside the first, and then one hand goes east while the other goes west, until her hands wrap around my back. She locks her hands behind me and lays her face against my shirt. She nuzzles her cheek into my left pectoral muscle. “Hug me back,” she says quietly.
I wrap my arms around her, careful to squeeze her soft and slow, calmly and carefully. She exhales heavily, and I rest my chin on top of her head. In that second, I know my heart is hers. I tell myself she’s only taking a little piece, but that’s a f**king lie. She’ll have the whole thing by the time I go back to New York. She undoes me with her simple affection. And I don’t know how to behave, so I just hold her. I hold her and let her breathe while I drink in the feel of her. I want to tip her face up and press my lips to hers, but I’m not sure that would be any more fulfilling than this pregnant silence is. It’s full of possibility. For me, it’s full of longing, and something entirely different for her, probably. I open my eyes and look up. Her mother is standing there with her mouth hanging open. She slams it shut and smiles at me, giving me a thumbs-up. I grin. I can’t help it.
I lay my hand on the back of Reagan’s head and stroke down the length of her hair. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to touch you,” I say quietly.
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to be touched,” she says. I can feel the words against my chest, ripe with longing.
She inhales deeply and loosens her clutch on my midsection. Cool air wafts in where her warmth was, and I want to pull her back to me. “I’ll see you later, Pete,” she says.
“You all right?” I ask.
“Honestly, I’m a little overwhelmed, and I have some things to think about.” She looks up at me, but her eyes are clouded by something I don’t understand. “I need some time to myself.”
I nod. I don’t know why. “Can I do anything for you?” I ask. I tuck her hair behind her ear.
She shakes her head. “I don’t think so. I’m going to take a break.”
She pats my chest with a quick good-bye tap, and then she walks away. She goes inside the house, and she doesn’t come back out. She doesn’t come back out to lifeguard for the youth group at the pool. She doesn’t come back out to roast marshmallows. She doesn’t come back out to check on her horse. She doesn’t come out the next morning to start events with the campers. She doesn’t come outside again at all until the next night, when a neon-yellow Mustang pulls into the drive. Chase Gerald gets out and goes to get my girl. Then she finally comes out. On his f**king arm.
Reagan
I needed some time to get my head on straight. It’s still a little crooked, but it feels a little better than it did. I slide my jeweled sandals onto my feet and tug at the length of my dress. I don’t usually wear dresses, but this night is fancy. It’s a country club dinner; it’s not black tie, but it’s really dressy. I’m wearing a sheath dress that wraps and ties at my hip. It’s kind of clingy but not in a bad way. I turn and look at my butt in the mirror. I look all right. I arrange my hair in an updo, so that it’s wrapped up and off my neck with little tendrils hanging down. I line my eyes with light eyeliner and mascara and apply some blush. I’ve been in the sun all summer, so I’m sure I don’t need foundation.
A knock sounds at my door, and my mom sticks her head in. She’s wiping her hands on a kitchen towel as she comes through the door. She whistles at me. “Don’t you look nice,” she says, nodding in appreciation. She walks over to my jewelry box and flips it open. “You want to wear Grandma’s pendant with that?” she asks. I hadn’t even thought about jewelry.
I turn around, and she puts the necklace around my neck. I lean over and let it dangle. I slide on some clanky bracelets and push them up my arm. They’ll fall in a second, but they look nice.
I hold my hands out to the side. “Do I look like a normal girl?” I ask.
Her face softens. “Honey, you are a normal girl,” she says softly. She narrows her eyes at me. “Why are you going on this date?” she asks.