Capturing Peace (12 page)

“I love you too,” she whispered, and sent me a longing glance before walking out of the room.

Grabbing the chair and moving it closer to the bed, I sat down and looked up at the beeping monitors.

“Hey, Coen?”

“Yeah, bud?” I asked, glancing down to Parker.

“Don’t tell Mom, ’kay?”

I bent forward to rest my elbows on the side of his bed. “Don’t tell her what?”

“When I woke up here, I was scared because I couldn’t find you.”

My chest tightened and a lump formed in my throat. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t here, bud.”

“Mom wasn’t here either, but I looked for you.” His words were starting to slur, and I didn’t know if this was just talk because of the concussion, or if he’d actually been scared because I hadn’t been here.

Grabbing the hand closest to me, I squeezed it gently, and looked at his drooping eyes. “I’m here now.”

He nodded slowly and blinked heavily before widening his eyes at me. “Love you, Coen.”

Thank God I was in a hospital, because I’m pretty sure my heart had just failed. Everything in me seized up, and my heart stuttered after missing a few beats before taking off quickly. The lump in my throat grew, and I couldn’t get it to go away. He loved me. I’d called him my son without realizing it.
My
Parker.

“I love you too, Parker,” I choked out.

All of the adrenaline from the fear of him not waking up, trying to be strong for Reagan—even if only for a little while—and all the emotions that had been coursing through my body in just the last ten minutes were suddenly too much. Dropping my head onto the mattress, I let myself cry for the first time in two and a half years.

Reagan—
October 27, 2010

I
STOOD IN
the doorway of Parker’s room late that night, and watched as Coen lowered him onto his bed before tucking him under the covers. In the three and a half weeks since we’d started letting Parker know that Coen was staying the night, Coen hadn’t once put him in bed, or woken him up—and I’m pretty sure it just became my favorite sight in the entire world.

Coen bent down low, placing his hand on the top of Parker’s head, and whispered something against it, too low for me to hear.

Never mind.
That
was my favorite sight.

Straightening up, he gave Parker one last look before walking over to where I was waiting on him. I tried to contain the ridiculous smile I knew must have been plastered on my face, but there was no way to. I was so in love with him. I loved the way he loved me, and I
loved
the way he loved my son.

Letting my fingers trail down his forearm, I pushed away from the doorway and walked over to the bed. Pressing my lips to Parker’s temple, I brushed back some of his blond hair and tried to remember him just like this. There’d been no crack on his skull, and no major swelling; the doctor had told us he’d been incredibly lucky. And I was so thankful for whoever was looking over my son.

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” I whispered. “I love you, baby.”

With one last kiss to his forehead, I stood and walked into Coen’s waiting arms. I inhaled sharply when he grabbed the backs of my thighs and pulled me up, but quickly wrapped my hands around his neck, and legs around his hips.

His dark eyes stayed locked on mine as he walked us out of Parker’s bedroom and into mine—leaving both doors open. Letting me slide down his body, his fingers went to my pants, but there was no heat in his dark eyes tonight. I stepped out of them when they pooled at my feet, and raised my arms when he began pulling my shirt over my head. Leaving my camisole on, he reached inside to unhook my bra, and worked it off before dropping it on the floor as well. Taking a step away from me, he took off his jeans and shirt, leaving himself in only his boxer briefs, and reached for my hand. He brushed his lips slowly across mine while his eyes still held mine captive—and in them I saw everything I was feeling being reflected back on me. The fear, the craving, the love, the trust.

Walking to the bed, he turned off the lamp, flipped back the covers, and slid in before pulling me in with him. Curling his body around mine, he pressed his lips to my shoulder as the arm under me moved so his hand was flat against my stomach, and the other moved until it was over my heart.

No words, and yet he’d said so much. So much that I agreed with wholeheartedly.

I was his.

I wasn’t going anywhere.

And I was so in love with him too.

Chapter Eleven

Coen—
November 1, 2010

I
WAS FROWNING
by the time Saco’s wife, Olivia, was done ranting and bitching loud enough that I’d begun to wonder if she was trying to let me hear her.

Saco groaned. “Sorry, man.”

Waiting until I made sure I wouldn’t tell him he’d made a mistake in marrying her, I asked, “What was that about this time?”

“She took what little savings I had after buying the house, and put it down on a brand-new Mercedes yesterday without telling me. When she came back, she got pissed that I wasn’t happy
for her
and took off to her parents’ house.”

“Are you serious?”

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to be happy about her draining our savings, and then giving us a car payment I can’t afford.” He let out a long sigh. “Anyway, that was her, just coming back from her parents’. I’d had to go out and buy formula last night so I could feed Tate.”

I wouldn’t say it. I would. Not. Say. It. “I’m sorry, Brody.”

“Aw, damn. You’re using my first name, I think I would rather you tell me I made a mistake.”

“Are you a mind reader now?”

He laughed, but it still sounded off. “Nah, I just know you. Tell me something to get my mind off her bullshit. How are you and Reagan?”

I didn’t want to sit there and brag about my relationship when the only good thing to come from Saco’s was his son, but I knew he needed the distraction. “We’re great, to be honest. Things have . . . I don’t know. So much has changed.”

“Good or bad?”

“Good. Every day that passes I know more and more that I need them, and I don’t know what I would do without them. I hate that they don’t live with me, I can’t stand the fact that they aren’t my family. I don’t know how it happened, but I love that kid, and I love his mom so damn much. I want to marry her. I want to adopt—”

“Whoa, wait.” Saco cut me off. “What? I knew you were really into her, but didn’t the two of you just start dating a few months ago?”

I paused and thought for a second. “No.”

“Yeah, Steele, it’s only been a few months. I’ve been home for a little over three months, you met her after I got home.”

My head jerked back. “Yeah, I met her the day I got out, but that was the middle of August. That was—”

“Two and a half months ago.” Saco was quiet while I sat there, not moving, not blinking. “So two and a half months, and you already want to marry her and adopt her son?”

I still wasn’t saying anything. That couldn’t be right.

“From what you’ve told me, and the stories I’ve heard from Hudson, Reagan’s incredible. But slow down, you’re twenty-four, she’s twenty-two . . . just let this play out for a while. Make sure this is what you want first. Make sure you
want
to be a dad. I know you love them, but you don’t want to make a decision now, regret it later, and break their hearts then. If it’s meant to be, then it’s not like either of you are going anywhere. So enjoy getting to know her before you marry her. You’ll have the rest of your life with her and Parker.”

“Yeah,” I said on a breath, but I still couldn’t believe what had felt like six . . . seven months with them was only two and a half. And still I wanted them to be mine. What was it Reagan had said to me in Hudson’s apartment?
“Everything’s fast with us, but fast feels right when I’m with you.”
Never had truer words been spoken.

S
CANNING THROUGH THE
last dozen or so shots I’d just gotten, I nodded to myself and looked up at my client. “Those are gonna look great, man. If you wanted to change one more time, go for it.”

It was only supposed to be an hour-long shoot, which is why I’d taken it when he called. And even though this is what I loved doing, I was glad the hour was almost up. I wanted to be with Reagan and Parker.

I walked over and started adjusting the lights while he changed, and glanced over my shoulder when I heard the side door to my studio open. My lips stretched into a wide grin when Reagan and Parker walked in.

Reagan’s eyes widened, and an apologetic look crossed her face when she looked around. “I didn’t know you had a shoot tonight.”

“Last minute.” I shrugged and pulled her in to kiss her quickly before hugging Parker. “Hey, bud! How was school?”

“It was good.” He looked past me at my client and asked loudly, “Are you going to shoot him?”

Reagan looked horrified for all of a second before a sharp laugh burst from her chest, and it took everything in me to keep from laughing with her and my client.

Bending down, I got close to Parker’s face and spoke softly. “Remember when I took pictures with you and your mom?” He nodded. “That’s the kind of shooting I’m doing.”

“Oh, yeah. That was cool.”

I smiled at him. “It was cool.”

“Well we’ll go so you can get back to it,” Reagan said as she put a hand on Parker’s shoulder to pull him back. “Are you coming over tonight?”

“I planned on it,” I said each word slowly as I judged her reaction.

“Okay, I’m exhausted from today—”

Disappointment quickly flooded my chest, but I refused to let her see it. “Then I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She laughed and placed a hand on my chest. “I meant, I’m exhausted in that I’m just going to be ordering takeout instead of cooking. Please come over.”

“Takeout sounds perfect, and maybe bed early and I’ll take care of you since you’re so exhausted . . .” I raised an eyebrow and she blushed.

“Coen,” she chastised.

“Drive safe, Duchess, I’ll see you soon.”

After a quick light-saber stabbing from Parker and a kiss from Reagan, they left my studio, and I just stood there staring at the door they’d walked through.

“I didn’t know you were married.”

I turned to look at my client and laughed awkwardly. “Uh, I’m not. That’s my girlfriend.”

He looked over at the door, and a look crossed his face like that had explained it all. “Got it! Now I don’t feel bad thinking that kid had probably been the result of the milkman.”

My face dropped and hands clenched into fists, but I forced myself to laugh again. “You ready to finish this?”

“Yeah, but, Coen . . . I wouldn’t be looking out for you if I didn’t say this.” He put his hands on his hips and looked at me like he was about to deliver the worst news possible.

I steadied myself and crossed my arms over my chest as I waited for him to continue. I still hadn’t completely ruled out punching him.

“I dated this girl for a while who had a daughter. I was cool with her kid, the girl was a total sweetheart. Next thing I know my girlfriend’s pregnant and freaking out, saying she can’t have another kid by herself. She tried so damn hard to get me to marry her before she had the baby; but that wasn’t about to happen. And thank God it didn’t. Found out after the kid was born that he wasn’t even mine. My girlfriend had to do a paternity test to find out
who
the father was because she had been fucking four different guys. Trying to get one of us to marry her because she wanted someone to help her raise her first kid. And she’d sworn up and down she was on the pill. I believed her, trusted her, loved her and her daughter . . .”

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

P
ARKER’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.”