Chapter Twelve

Coen—­November 5, 2010

HUDSON AND I stood back behind Saco for almost an hour after everyone had left the cemetery. The ser­vice had been short, and painfully heartbreaking, but nothing could compare as we watched the world’s smallest coffin be lowered into the ground.

There was nothing like it. No words to describe it.

Olivia screaming that Brody was a murderer had only served to have her hauled off by her father, and to have Brody collapse on himself as grief consumed him.

Never in my life had I wanted to hit a woman until that moment.

Stepping forward, I put a hand on Saco’s shoulder, and waited to see if he would respond. He didn’t. He stood there, still as stone, staring at the fresh mound of dirt.

“This wasn’t your fault,” I told him a few minutes later. “There’s nothing you could have—­”

“Don’t let them go,” Saco mumbled. “They could be gone tomorrow. Be with them, enjoy them, love them while they’re here.”

I nodded but didn’t respond. I didn’t want to talk about Reagan and Parker with him now, not when we were staring at his son’s grave. I didn’t want to talk about what I’d thrown away, and was trying so hard to get back, when the person he loved most in the world was gone.

Instead, I took a step back, knowing he wasn’t ready to leave this place yet. Glancing at Hudson, he gave me a look and I nodded. We’d have to take Saco from here soon, or he’d drive himself crazy. He needed to keep grieving, but he needed to do it away from where he looked like he was about to lie down and never leave.

I’d called Reagan at least a dozen times a day every day since I’d shown up at Hudson’s place, but she’d never once picked up. Hudson had even let me use his phone, but she’d hung up the second she heard my voice. And every time, I felt like I was closer and closer to losing them for good.

After I told Hudson about the call from Saco and the story about my client’s relationship, and how those conversations had started the worries and insecurities that had snowballed out of control into what went down in Reagan’s apartment, he’d understood. He’d punched me again the second we got out of the airport in Oregon, but he’d understood. He knew I’d made a mistake, and he knew I’d do anything to get them back. But there was only so much I could do while I was a ­couple states away, and right now, Hudson and I needed to be there for our brother.

Reagan—­November 7, 2010

MY BODY STIFFENED when I felt my phone start vibrating in my back pocket. Looking over to where Parker was playing with my dad, I pulled the phone out and locked my jaw when Coen’s name, and a picture of the two of us flashed on the screen.

I sat there staring at the screen until the voice mail finally picked up, and a deep sense of longing filled me—­as it did every time he called.

“Are you ever going to answer that boy’s calls?”

My head jerked up to where my mom was staring at me from across the table, and my brow furrowed. “Ever? Don’t say that like it’s been years or something. It hasn’t even been a week.”

“That doesn’t answer my question, sweetheart. He’s called you five times since you got here this morning, and I know that’s not unusual for him right now.”

She was counting? Pressing down the lock button, I held it until I could turn my phone off. Parker was here, I was with my parents, and Keegan was with . . . well, he was with friends. No one would need to get in touch with me who couldn’t wait.

“Reagan,” Mom prompted.

“No, Mom, I don’t think I will ever answer his calls.”

The disappointment was clear on her face and in her tone. “He said he needed time to think. He said he needed some space. To me, that’s not even asking for a break, maybe he just wanted to be alone for a little while, and you took it the wrong way.”

I raised my eyebrows and brought my hand up to point at myself, but didn’t make it all the way before pointing at my phone instead. My jaw shook as I whispered, “I took it the wrong way?” Clearing my throat, I straightened in the chair and shook my head. “No, I didn’t take anything the wrong way. Those were some of the words he said, but his meaning was crystal clear.”

“Reagan, you push men away, it’s what you do.”

“I pushed him, and he pushed right back. I stopped pushing him months ago. I did not want him to leave, Mom. You have no idea how much it destroyed me to watch him walk away from us.”

She leaned forward and extended her arm on the table toward me. “But he’s calling. He’s calling all the time. That doesn’t sound like a man who doesn’t want you.”

Neither did his voice mails. “He walked away once, Mom. That’s all I need to know.”

“Reagan. You tried walking away in the beginning too.”

An agitated huff blew past my lips and I rolled my eyes. “To protect my son. Not because I didn’t want a relationship.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Whose side are you on, Mom?”

“Parker’s,” she said without missing a beat. “I’m on Parker’s. I want the world for you, Reagan, but you’re being childish. I had my reservations about Coen in the beginning, but he is the best thing to ever happen to you and my grandson. And, yes, he made a mistake, but he’s trying to come back, and you’re stopping him. You’re stopping my grandson from having the father he deserves.”