Capturing Peace

Chapter Nine

Coen—­September 25, 2010

KNOCKING QUICKLY ON Reagan’s door, I glanced at my car and blew out a quick breath before facing the door again right before it was flung open.

“Coen!”

“What’s up, bud?” Grabbing under Parker’s arms, I lifted him into a hug before throwing him over my shoulder.

He laughed wildly and slapped on my back. “Hey, I thought you weren’t strong!”

“I’m not.” I gasped, and stopped walking. Letting my legs shake a little, I acted like my knees were buckling under his weight. “You’re too heavy for me.”

“No, I’m not!” he squealed.

“Either we’re both going down, or just you.”

“Both!”

Letting him slide forward on my shoulder a little bit, I gasped and pretended to struggle. “I can’t keep you up—­I can’t.” Sliding him the rest of the way off, I swung him down, acting like I just barely caught him before his head hit the floor.

His laughter filled the entire apartment before he lifted his head and slapped on my forearms. “Do it again.”

I widened my eyes, and let my face fall. “I can’t . . . you’re still . . . too . . . heavy,” I grunted out each word as I let him slip down onto the carpet an inch at a time. Once he was on the floor, I doubled over, breathing heavily.

Parker jumped up and tackled me onto the ground. “You’re weak, Coen, you shoulda eaten your food growing up.”

I smiled over at him. “Shoulda. How was school yesterday?”

“It was cool.”

“You and Jason still best friends?”

“Yep.”

“Girls still have cooties?”

Parker’s eyes widened, and he stopped where he’d been tracing one of the stars on my forearm. “Yeah,” he said softly. Like I should have known his answer wouldn’t have changed in a day. But with six-­year-­olds, you never knew. He and Jason decided they hated each other and were back to best friends twice in one day.

Holding up my fist for him to bump, I ruffled his hair and stood up. “Sounds like your world is still pretty perfect then, bud. Come on, let’s go see what’s taking your mom—­” I cut off and froze when I saw Reagan standing there. She looked beautiful. Clearing my throat, I licked my lips and finished my sentence. “So long.”

Raising an eyebrow, an amused smirk tugged at her full lips before she pushed off the wall to walk toward us. “Take me so long, huh? I’ve been ready.”

Pulling her into my arms, I pressed a kiss to her forehead. “You look beautiful.”

Her smirk widened into a smile. “Thank you, are you going to tell me what we’re doing today?”

“Are you going to tell me how long you were standing there?”

“Long enough.”

I considered her answer and narrowed my eyes at her. “Yeah, still not telling you where we’re going. But we need to go.”

“Fine, fine. Parker, you ready?” she asked as she pulled away from me.

When she grabbed her purse and keys, I rubbed at the back of my neck and sucked in a deep breath. “Can I drive?” I asked, and I’m pretty sure I held my breath as I waited for her answer.

Her brow furrowed. “You want to drive my car?”

“No, uh . . . can I drive us in my car?”

“Um, yeah, I guess. We just have to move the booster seat first.”

“I kinda bought one,” I said tightly. It felt like I broke out in a cold sweat as I waited for her to freak out. To say this was moving too fast. For us to have the argument we’d somehow avoided for a ­couple weeks, again.

Reagan’s eyes widened and mouth opened slowly. “You bought a booster seat for your car?” she asked softly.

“Yeah, but if it bothers you—­”

I don’t know what happened first, it seemed to all happen at once. Her purse and keys dropped to the floor, her hazel eyes filled with tears, and she launched her small body at me—­wrapping her arms tightly around my waist.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she said against my chest.

“Actually, I did.” Running my hand over her long hair, I waited until she looked up at me again. “I couldn’t drive you two anywhere unless we moved your booster seat. It was stupid. I need to be able to drive him without having to inconvenience you. This was necessary for us.”

Her head shook slowly back and forth, and she huffed softly. “I—­” She cut off quickly and cleared her throat. “Thank you. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

Pushing back the hair from her face, I cupped her cheek and kissed her slowly. “I think I have an idea.”

There was a loud, exaggerated sigh next to us. “Are we going?”

Reagan and I both laughed and looked at Parker. “Yeah, bud, let’s go.” Grabbing Reagan’s purse and keys, I handed them back to her and led them out the door. As we walked to my car, I nudged her shoulder. “Hey, Duchess.”

“Hmm?”

Hooking my arm around her neck, I pressed my lips close to her ear and whispered, “Do you realize you took my compliment back there? Pretty sure that’s a first.”

Her face scrunched together as she thought for a moment before she rolled her eyes, scoffed, and pushed me away. “And I’m pretty sure you’re still delusional.”

Looking at my girl as she put Parker in the back seat of my car, I shook my head. “No. Definitely not that.”

“WE’RE GOING TO the park?” Reagan asked a few minutes later. “Why’d you have us dress nice if we were going here?”

I bit back a smile and turned to go around to a different side. “You’ll see.”

“Are we gonna play?” Coen asked from the backseat.

“Not today, bud. I have something else in mind. But when we’re done, I’ll take you wherever you want for lunch. How’s that sound?”

“Cool!”

I smiled over at Reagan, and we both mouthed, “Cool.”

“I don’t think I’ve been to this side,” she mumbled, and grabbed the ends of her hair.

Grabbing for her hands, I pulled them away and wrapped my fingers securely around them. “So . . . our impromptu shoot last week gave me an idea.” Glancing at her, I watched as her cheeks stained with heat.

“W-­what, uh, what kind of idea?” she stammered.

As soon as I stopped the car, I pointed out her window. “It’s over there.”

Her brow scrunched together for a few seconds. “Is that . . . ?”

“My equipment? Yeah.”

She turned quickly, her face lit up with excitement. “You’re going to shoot us?”

“You’re going to shoot us?” Parker asked loudly, horror lacing his tone.

I barked a laugh before I could compose myself. “No way, bud. Not like that. I’m going to take pictures of you and your mom. Its called a photo shoot, that’s the kind of shoot she meant.”

A relieved look crossed his face. “Oh. Cool.”

Looking back at Reagan, I leaned close. “Is that okay?”

“More than okay.” Taking off her seat belt, she opened her door and stepped out before leaning back in. “I do love when you surprise me, Coen Steele.”

I just plain loved her.

Getting out of the car, I pulled my camera out of the trunk, and walked over to where Reagan and Parker were waiting for me. “Ready?”

Parker grabbed my hand and nodded hard once. “Ready!”

My chest tightened and I looked at Parker before looking up at Reagan. A soft smile was slowly covering her face as her eyes stayed glued to our hands, and just before she began walking, her hazel eyes met mine and I knew she was feeling this too. She loved me, I had no doubt of that. But it wasn’t just the two of us, my love went so much deeper than just Reagan. I loved her son, and I loved the three of us together. And from the look she’d just given me, I knew she felt the same.

We walked up to the hill I’d had two of my friends set up my equipment on, and after introducing them to Reagan and Parker, we got started. Parker wasn’t into it at first because he was still afraid someone was going to shoot him, so after having one of my buddies take pictures of Parker and me flexing, and fighting with imaginary light sabers, then a few of Reagan and me together, he was more than ready for his turn to take pictures with his mom—­which he let us know by jumping into the pictures of us.

And as I stared at the two of them from behind the lens of my camera, a feeling unlike anything I’d ever experienced washed over me. It was calming, freeing, and I knew I would do anything to make it last. Parker laughed loudly at something Reagan said to him as I changed the setting on my camera, and the sound filled me—­making me smile. I quickly captured the moment before it could end, and finally realized what the feeling was.

Peace.

Reagan—­October 1, 2010

CRACKING MY EYES open, I frowned when I saw what time it was. I had thirty minutes before I had to get Parker up and ready for school. Which meant twenty-­nine minutes before the warm body wrapped around mine would leave. At least it was the first Friday of the month, which meant we would be spending the day together . . . but I hated watching him leave in the mornings.

Rolling over, I curled up against his bare chest and placed soft kisses there as I let my free hand lightly trail up his back. Goose bumps covered his skin, and I smiled before moving up to his throat and jaw.

His chest rumbled. “Duchess.”

“Morning,” I said softly, and waited for what I knew would come next.

“Time?”

“Six.”

Coen breathed in deeply through his nose, and a smile crossed his face. “Amazing,” he murmured, and tightened his arms around me.

“Tell me why?”

His eyes barely opened, and he didn’t speak, but the question was clear on his face.

“You’re sleeping here about three times a week, and each time you just can’t seem to believe that it’s morning when we wake up. You’re always in awe, why is that?”

Dark eyes now fully on me, his face remained blank.

I moved so I was lying on my stomach, and played with the sheet below me, studying it intently. “Keegan said something at the very beginning of us seeing each other.”

“And what was that?” he asked, his tone dark—­and I knew then, whatever this was had to do with whatever was haunting him.

“He asked if you slept. But at the time we hadn’t slept together, so he dropped the subject.” Risking a glance at him, I asked softly, “Do you not sleep?”

Coen studied me for a long time before releasing a harsh breath. “Not if I’m not with you. I mean—­I do. But I don’t like to. Some nights I don’t sleep at all, others I get an hour and a half to two hours . . . and that’s if I’m not able to wake myself up after thirty minutes.”

“Thirty . . . what? Why thirty?”

Rolling onto his back, he stared blankly at the ceiling and rested his hands on his chest. “I have flashbacks if I sleep.”

“From whatever happened two and a half years ago?”

“Mostly. Sometimes other missions.”

I watched the haunted look fall over his face and pressed my palm to his cheek, turning his head so he was looking at me. A calmness slowly filled his features, and he grabbed my hand to kiss it.

“Why do you sleep with me, do you think?”

He shrugged. “I have no idea. That first night here, I hadn’t planned on actually falling asleep, next thing I knew it was six hours later and you were waking me up.”

“And you’ve never had a nightmare—­”

“Flashback.”

“You’ve never had a flashback when you sleep with me?”

His dark eyes held mine as he shook his head.

“Have you—­have you thought about talking to someone?”

Coen sighed and sat up, but his face showed all the patience in the world as he pulled me into his chest. “I’m not going to talk to anyone. Your brother and Saco try to get me to all the time. And before you ask why, it’s because even though those ­people are trained to help . . . they couldn’t possibly understand because they’ve never gone through anything like what we went through.”

“Okay, I get that. But you’re not sleeping,” I argued softly, and gripped the back of his neck as I sat up to rest my forehead against his. “That alone can cause depression, and if you’re already dealing with . . . whatever it is you’re dealing with—­”

A laugh rumbled in Coen’s chest. “Do I seem depressed to you, Ray?”

I didn’t find anything about this amusing. I was terrified for him. “You worry me sometimes,” I replied honestly.

His dark eyes widened, and surprise covered his features. “What?”

“Sometimes the things you say . . . they’re dark. Your words are haunted, and they show just how haunted you are up here.” I touched his temple with the tips of my fingers. “But I know you went through things no one should have to, so I understand you. That doesn’t mean I’m not worried. And then the pictures you take of yourself. I love them, Coen, I do. They’re . . . different, edgy, sexy, some are hilarious. But you and I both know why you hide your face or your eyes, even if you’re not meaning to.”

Coen was quiet for so long, I started to think I’d pushed him too far. Sitting back on his lap, I looked at his tortured face, and my heart broke.

“That’s what I do.”

“What?”

Looking up at me, he repeated, “That’s what I do. When I can’t sleep, or when I’m avoiding it, I edit pictures, or go do shoots of myself. It gives me something to think about other than what I feel like I’m running from.”

Letting my hands run over his shoulders, I looked at the path they were making as the tension left Coen’s body. “I wish I could take it away for you.”

He laughed sadly. “I already told you, you do. I don’t know why, and I don’t know how . . . but you do.”

Pressing a kiss to his lips, I sat back and eyed him for a second. “I won’t bring up talking to someone again. I get why you don’t want to, even though I wish you would. But, maybe . . . maybe someday you’ll tell me.” His face hardened, and I hurried to continue. “Not about the mission—­I know you can’t do that—­but about what happened. You don’t have to today; you don’t have to ever. But, Coen, if I chase your demons away . . . if you can sleep when you’re with me . . . maybe just talking to me will help. I won’t judge you, I won’t try to fix you, I just want to be there for you.”

Pushing us until I was on my back and he was hovering over me, he shook his head in wonder. “Again, where did you come from?”

I placed my hands back on his neck and searched his face. “I’ve been right here, waiting for you to come crashing into our lives.”

A slow smile spread across his face. “Reagan . . . I love you.”

My mouth opened, and it felt like my body was being pricked by millions of needles that were either ice cold or scorching hot. I couldn’t figure out which. My heart began racing, and I was trying to figure out if I’d imagined those words that were replaying themselves over and over again. “You—­”

“Love you,” he finished for me.

My mouth stretched into a wide grin seconds before I brought his face to mine. “I love you too,” I breathed against his lips, and kissed him again.

His tongue brushed against mine and I whimpered into his mouth when he pulled my body off the bed. Wrapping his arms tightly around my waist, he deepened the kiss for a few more moments before pulling back and placing a gentle kiss on the end of my nose.

“Maybe someday I’ll be able to tell you what happened. For now, this is all I need.”

“Okay.” I sighed contentedly. Turning my head to look at the clock, I frowned. I wasn’t ready for this time to end, even if only for a ­couple hours.

Coen’s face held the same displeasure I felt. “Do I get to see you today? Or do you have things you have to get done?”

Grabbing the ends of my hair, I nervously played with them and bit down on my cheek as I thought for a second. “What if you didn’t leave?”

Coen’s fingers went under my chin to lift my head until we were staring at each other. “What do you mean?”

“I mean what if you were here when I woke up Parker, and while he got ready—­”

His dark eyes widened. “Can I take him to school?”

His question shocked me, and my head jerked back. I’d been worried he still wasn’t ready for Parker to know he stayed the night; I definitely hadn’t been prepared for that. “You—­you want to take him to school?”

“Well, I mean, you would come with us. But, if it’s okay, I’d like to.”

“It’s okay,” I said softly.

“I’ll take you to get coffee after, and then we can do whatever you want for the rest of the day.”

I raised my eyebrows at him. “Whatever I want? Why do I feel like you’re trying to bribe me into getting your way?”

“Because I want nothing more than to come back here and spend the day in this bed with you. Is it working?”

I smiled wryly at him and crawled off his lap. “Oh yeah. Keep it up, Steele. Now put some clothes on, I have to wake up Parker.”

Grabbing my pajama pants and tight V-­neck I’d been wearing before Coen had torn them off last night, I slipped them back on and watched as he searched for his clothes. Watching him walk around my bedroom was enough of a distraction for what was about to happen, and I so needed the distraction.

Parker hadn’t mentioned the whole dad thing to Coen since that first day nearly a month ago, and Coen and I hadn’t talked about it again. I was ready for this—­ready for Coen to not have to rush out in the mornings he stayed over, and ready for Parker to start getting used to the idea. But being the first time, I was still scared. Parker could think this meant Coen was going to be his dad, he might not handle it well . . . so many things could happen.

“Ready to see how he handles this?”

I laughed at Coen’s worried expression, glad I wasn’t the only one freaking out about this. “Ready.”

Walking out of my room and down the hall, I opened Parker’s door and stepped in. Coen stopped just on the inside of the door frame and leaned up against it, and I was glad he’d been the one to make that decision. Because I couldn’t figure out if he should be out in the kitchen, in here with me, or hiding in my bedroom for the next ­couple hours.

Sitting down on the bed, I rubbed my hand over Parker’s back and crooned, “Wake up, buddy. Parker. Wake up.”

He rolled over so he was facing me and rubbed at his face.

“Hi, honey.”

“Morning, Mom.” Looking over, he waved. “Morning, Coen.”

“Morning, bud,” Coen’s deep voice trickled into the room, and something about this scene felt so right to me that I had to sit there trying to swallow past the tightness in my throat before I could speak again.

“Time to get up and get ready for school, okay?”

Rolling out of bed, he shuffled over to Coen and grabbed his hand as he tried to pull him out of the room. “I want cereal, please.”

Coen looked over at me and smiled before allowing Parker to pull him into the hall. His voice trailing off as he said, “Whatever you want.”

I just sat there as I tried to comprehend what had happened. It had been incredibly anticlimactic for how nervous Coen and I had been, but it had also been beyond perfect. With a smile on my face, I stood and walked out of Parker’s room to join them in the kitchen, where Coen was getting Parker’s breakfast.