after hours, but every local knew where the spare was. Once inside, I strode down the darkened hallway toward Reagan’s room and when I arrived I knocked several times on her door. Just knowing that she was on the other side of it already had my body relaxing.
When I heard the latch being unlocked my heart rate sped up as an entirely separate anxiety flooded me. It wasn’t from my panic attack, it was from knowing that I was about to lay eyes on Reagan. The woman who, sometime in the past ten days or so, had stolen my heart, my soul, and I was pretty sure my sanity.
The door opened and a bleary eyed Reagan appeared, squinting up at me. “Billy, what’s wrong? What are you doing here?”
For a moment I couldn’t speak. She was wearing a gray T-shirt and cutoff sweats. Her hair was piled on top of her head, and her face was scrubbed clean. She was the most breathtakingly beautiful creature I’d ever seen.
“Billy? What’s wrong?” she questioned again.
I don’t know what I’d expected to find, or if I’d even thought of it at all, but the reality of my actions sunk in on me all at once. Disturbing Reagan when she had to be up in a few hours for work was a dick move.
“Sorry. Go back to sleep.” I started to turn but she reached out and put her hand on my forearm.
“Is that your mom’s journal?”
“Yeah.” I shifted back. “I tried to read it, but…”
“Come in.” She opened the door wider and motioned for me to enter.
I walked past her and the faint scent of lavender that her hair always smelled of wafted past me. I inhaled deeply, wanting to take it in and hold on to it. I never wanted to stop smelling it.
“Sit down.” She crossed to the small fridge stored beneath the coffee stand. “Can I get you something? Water? A Coke?”
“No. I’m fine.” Now that I was here, I was feeling a little bit ridiculous.
She grabbed a water bottle and flipped on the small light sitting on the corner desk before lowering down into a chair facing me. She tucked one leg beneath her and her knee brushed mine. Even through the denim covering my leg, I felt the brief contact and missed it when it was gone.
“So, what did you find out?” she asked expectantly.
“Not much. I only read the first line of her journal entry the day she died.”
“Oh.” She nodded. “Okay.”
“Can you read it?” It suddenly became clear to me why I was there. I couldn’t face this alone. I needed her to do this.
Her blue eyes widened. “Me?”
“You,” I confirmed.
“Are you sure you don’t want one of your brothers, or Cheyenne—”
“They’re too close to the situation.” I lied. It wasn’t at all the reason I hadn’t brought it to them. “I need someone without any emotional attachment to do it.”
I handed her the leatherbound book.
She took it and opened it up, with extreme care. She handled it the same way one would William Shakespeare first edition. She began gently flipping through the pages, scanning each as she went.
“Can you read the last one?” My throat was tight as I asked the question.
“Oh.” She looked up at me. “Okay.”
She turned to the final entry and I watched as her eyes moved across the pages.
“Out loud. Can you read it out loud?”
“Are you sure?” Her eyes lifted to meet mine and I could see concern brimming in them. “This is very… personal.”
“I need to know. And I think the only way I can is if I hear it from you.” There it was. The truth. The only way I’d be able to take in this information was if I heard it from Reagan.
There was a moment of hesitation before she took a deep breath and tilted her chin down toward the book. “I’m at the end of my rope. This is a living hell. He’s a loose cannon, I have no earthly idea what he might do. I can’t live like this.” A pause hung in the air before her blue stare once again lifted up through her dark lashes. “Are you sure you want me to keep going?”
I nodded.
She continued, “I can only think of one way out. I have to tell the truth. Tell him everything. It makes me sick to think about doing it. It’s going to destroy everything that we’ve built together. I’ve accepted that, as much as it breaks my heart. No.