Calmly, Carefully, Completely Page 11
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 fucked 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 hips as she glares at me.
“This is so fucked 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 fucked 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 fucking 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 fucking 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.
“Because I couldn’t get out of it,” I admit. “And now I don’t want to let Chase down.”
She shakes her head. “He’s not the one for you, is he?” she asks.
I shrug. “I don’t know. I’ve never given him enough of a chance to find out.”
She doesn’t say anything. My mom is good like that. She’s quiet when the situation calls for quiet, and she has a lot to say when the situation calls for that, too. “Your dad shouldn’t have pushed this date.”
I shake my head. “What if he’s right? What if Chase is the one for me? I won’t know until I find out.” I heave a sigh.
I laugh, but there’s no humor in the sound. “What does that mean, exactly?”
“I think you already know what it means.” She sits on the edge of my bed. “This Pete,” she says. “You trust him, right?”
“About as much as I can trust anyone I met three days ago,” I say flippantly. But Pete’s more than that, and I know it.
“Your heart has known him for a very long time,” she says.
“My heart doesn’t work like everyone else’s heart,” I bite out. “I can’t trust it to lead me anywhere.”
“Oh, Reagan,” she breathes softly. “I fucking hate that man for doing this to you. It’s been over two years and you still don’t trust yourself to move on with your life. It’s like you’re stuck in that moment when he hurt you.”
“You don’t know what it feels like, Mom,” I say quietly in warning. She can’t talk about this. She hasn’t experienced it.
“Did you know that one in five college-age girls will be raped during her college career?” she asks. “One in five, Reagan!” she cries.
“And?” I say. “Life goes on, is that what you’re saying?” I ask. My life didn’t go on. I got stuck in that moment. Until Pete. “Pete makes me want things that scare me,” I admit.
“That’s what love is about, Reagan. It’s thrilling and scary as hell and it makes your heart pound and it makes your insides ache.” She stops and glares at me. “Those feelings are normal. What’s not normal is what happened to you and how you closed yourself off to protect your heart.”
“Well, my heart is officially in danger,” I say drolly.
“So is his,” she reminds me.
Not once in all of this have I stopped to consider Pete’s feelings about our burgeoning relationship. I’ve considered my fears. I’ve considered my feelings. I’ve considered my needs and wants. But I haven’t really considered his. What if he hasn’t kissed me because he’s afraid I’ll damage him? What if he doesn’t want me the same way? What if he does want me but he’s afraid to touch me because I’ll go crazy on him? What if? What if? What if? “Pete’s heart is good and kind,” I say. “That’s all I know about it.”
She smiles. “That’s a start.”
My dad yells for me from the bottom of the steps. “Reagan!” he calls. “Chase is here!”
Mom stands up. “Trust your heart, Reagan,” she says. She kisses me on the forehead and walks down in front of me. At the bottom of the stairs, I see Chase looking up at me. His green eyes aren’t the ones I want to see, but I need to try, right? I need to give this a shot.
“Hi, Chase,” I chirp.
“Reagan,” he says. He’s all smiles. He swivels his hips. “You ready for some dancing?”
“Of course,” I say with a smile. “Sounds like fun.”
I take his arm as we walk out. He opens the door of his obnoxious yellow car, and I slide inside. His gaze roams up my thigh where my dress shifts, and I pull it down. He grins and closes the door. Then he slides into the driver’s seat and peels out of the driveway, slinging rocks in our wake.
Pete
I glance at my watch again and look toward the driveway. Reagan still isn’t home and it has been four hours. That’s plenty of time for dinner and dancing, isn’t it? Why isn’t she home yet?
I hear the rumble of that loud-ass Mustang engine, and my body tenses. I get up from where I was sitting chatting with some of the youth boys and begin to pace. It’s dark outside, and the lights are on at the front of the house. I can see the drive but not very clearly.
“I’ll be right back,” I say quietly. The boys smirk, and one shakes his head. “What?” I ask.
“Nothing,” he says, grinning. “You’re one pussy-whipped motherfucker, you know that?”
Yeah. I know it. And I don’t mind it. I walk slowly toward the front of the house. I stop by the bushes, hiding in the shadows. The car stops, but it’s not the douchebag that gets out of the driver’s seat. It’s Reagan. Her hair is a mess, hanging down her back in tangled waves. When she left, it was a chic knot on top of her head. Her dress is hanging off her shoulder, and she reaches to adjust it before she goes in the house. She stops to fix her hair, too. She’s carrying her shoes in her fingertips by the straps.
What the fuck?
Suddenly, a second car pulls up behind the first, and Reagan turns. She shades her eyes and looks toward the lights. She stomps her foot, and then I see Chase get out of the passenger side of the other car. Reagan doesn’t even stop to talk to him. She goes inside her house and slams the door. The noise of it reverberates around the yard.
Chase limps over to his car. By this point, darkness is crowding the corners of my vision and I can barely think, much less see. He did something to her, or she wouldn’t be so angry. I advance on him and scare the ever-loving shit out of him when I throw him up against the side of the car and get in his face. “What the fuck did you do to her?” I ask, my face an inch from his. He reaches up to wipe my spit from his cheek.
“I didn’t do anything to her,” he protests.
“You did something or she wouldn’t be so angry.” I hold him against the car. If I don’t, I’ll have to hit him, and I really want to hear his story before I hit him. I want to hear him say he’s sorry before I kill him.
“I didn’t do anything,” he swears, holding his hands out like he’s surrendering. That’s when I notice he has a splotch of blood under his nose. I turn him toward the light. His nose was definitely bleeding because there are gushes of it on his shirt. My heart thrills at the thought of it.
“You have until I count to three,” I say. But before I can even start counting down, he blurts out the truth. “We were dancing, and I was touching her…”
“Touching her where?” I growl. I swear to fucking God, I’m going to kill him.
“Just holding her while we danced,” he says. But he won’t look into my eyes.
“And?” I prompt.
“And,” he says slowly. “And I might have grazed her boob once or twice. Then the next thing I knew, she punched me in the face. Then she kneed me in the nuts, and when I bent over to grab for my gonads, she hit me in the jaw with her knee.” He mimics her motions, and I can imagine exactly what she did to him. Laughter bubbles within me. But he’s not done yet. “Then she pressed the heel of her shoe on my nuts while I was lying on the ground and pressed down hard until I gave her my car keys. Then she stole my car.” He points down the road to the other car that dumped him and left. “I had to get my buddy to drive me here.”
She stole his fucking car after she beat him up. I laugh. I can’t help it. I laugh in his face. I don’t need to do anything to him. She did enough. She completely emasculated him. “Are you sure all you did was touch her boob?” I ask.
“That’s all. I swear it.” The asshole is still grabbing for his nuts and slightly hunches over when I let him go. “That shit hurt, man.”
I chuckle. I can’t help it. “I’m sure it did.”
“That bitch is crazy,” he says, looking toward the house.
“I’ll tell her you said so.” I laugh. I can’t even scold him for calling her a bitch, not with everything she did to him.
“Please don’t,” he begs. “My dad will kill me if her father is mad at me.”
“Too late,” a voice calls from the front door. Her father steps into the light. “Hi, Pete,” he says. He smiles at me.
“Hi, Mr. Caster,” I say, waving at him joyfully.
“Hi, Chase,” he says.
Chase is smart enough to press his lips together and not say a word.
“You may go now, Chase,” Mr. Caster instructs, and Chase scrambles to get into his car. He fires it up and sprays our feet with gravel when he pulls away.
Mr. Caster smiles at me. “I couldn’t even hit the poor bastard after what she did to him,” he admits with a chuckle.
“Me, either,” I say. It wouldn’t have been fair. “Is
Reagan all right?” I ask. I really want to see her.
“She’s pissed as hell,” he says. He jerks a thumb toward the barn. “She went out the back door toward the barn.”
I look longingly toward the area where he pointed.
“What are you waiting for, son?” he asks. “Go!”
I smile and reach for his hand. He shakes with me and grins. “Thank you, Mr. Caster,” I say, and I run for the barn.
I open the door and find her standing in the middle of the lit hallway between stalls. She’s still wearing her pretty dress from the party, but she has replaced her strappy sandals with muck boots and her hair is down around her shoulders. Her dog growls when she sees me, posturing so I don’t get any closer, so she calls her to her and Maggie goes and lies down at her feet. “What do you want?” Reagan barks at me.
“Did you kiss him?” I ask. I wait, unable to breathe until I hear her answer.
She stares at me for a moment and then she shakes her head, and that’s all the prompting I need.
Reagan
I’m so pissed off that I can barely see straight. And Pete wants to know if I kissed Chase Gerald? Seriously?
He rushes toward me and grabs me in his arms, yanking me against him. He looks down into my face. “I’m going to kiss you,” he warns.
I shove him back, but it’s like pushing a brick wall. “Stop it, Pete,” I say. “You’re being ridiculous.”
He holds on tightly, though, and hitches his hands beneath my bottom, lifting me against him. Then he pushes me back against the wall of the stall. He slides a knee between my legs to hold me up, his foot resting on the side of a bag of feed, and takes my face in his hands. His breath smells like mints and Pete, and his exhale tickles my lips. “Reagan,” he breathes softly. It’s no more than a murmur, but he may as well have shouted it. My heart beats so loudly I can hear it in my ears, and I know he can feel it.