Panty Dropper (Southern Comfort #1) - Melanie Shawn Page 0,126

one-month anniversary. We were lying in bed about to fall asleep, and I realized I didn’t want to spend another day without her being my wife. So I asked her to marry me. She hadn’t said no. She’d just smiled and said it was too soon.

So, every night since, I’d asked again. And every night, she told me it was too soon. But one night, her answer would change and when it did, I’d be ready.

When I heard the screen door sliding open I looked over expecting it to be Hank.

“No take ba—” I stopped speaking when I saw Reagan step out onto the porch. I stood and closed my fist around the ring, hoping she didn’t catch a glimpse of it. “What are you doing home?”

She was supposed to be in court all day.

“The judge recessed early,” she said distractedly as she set the leather tote she carried files to and from work in on the small round table between our Adirondack chairs. I saw that she was out of breath and looked like she’d seen a ghost. I’d been so worried about her seeing the ring; I hadn’t noticed it at first.

“What’s wrong?”

She began pulling out files. “Do you remember I told you that Abernathy came into my office the afternoon after we went to the police station for the first time?”

“When he threatened you,” I replied darkly. I’d wanted to kick his ass so badly, but Reagan talked me down, saying that she needed to keep her job.

“I keep telling you, he didn’t threaten me,” she argued. “Not directly. He was just trying to intimidate me. Anyway, that’s not the point. You know Stella, our new receptionist?”

“Yes.” Daisy had been let go for—surprise surprise—getting caught engaging in inappropriate relations with a client in the supply closet.

“Well, the other day she came in my office and handed me a key to a storage unit that the law firm has. She said that she’d been told it was where we kept archived files. Apparently, there’d been some water damage due to an electrical fire in the building. She asked me if I could go see how bad it was because she’s claustrophobic and hates going into those places.”

“At least you know you won’t find her in the supply closet.”

Reagan’s eyes narrowed and she tilted her head.

“Too soon?” I asked, with the grin that never failed to put a smile on my girl’s face.

It didn’t let me down. Her lips curled in a reluctant half-smile as she shook her head. “Anyway, the storage facility is right by the courthouse so I figured I’d pop in while I was over there. The damage was in the back so they’d moved a bunch of the boxes to the front and some had fallen over. This was in a box labeled C.”

She handed me a manila envelope that had the word CONFIDENTIAL scribbled in black marker on it. I opened it and took out what looked to be hand written letters.

“None of them are signed, but there was something so familiar about them…and then I realized why.” She pulled out one of my mom’s journals and opened it.

The handwriting was identical. Chills rose on my arms.

“And look, look at the date on this one.” She touched the top right corner.

It was two days before my mother died.

I didn’t read the entire thing but scanned the page. “Please, don’t do this. I just need more time. I’m begging you. If you really love me the way you say you do, you’ll leave me and my family alone. Please, Jennings.” I looked up at her. “Jennings? Is he the he from her journals?”

Reagan and I had gone through and read all of my mom’s journals. Most of it was hippie-dippie stuff, and there was a lot about us and how tough it was being a mom of four. But the six months leading up to her death there were more and more mentions of “him” and “he”. She talked about how scared she was of him. How he was going to ruin her life.

“I mean, I can’t say for sure, but that’s definitely what it seems like. And remember how I told you that Cheyenne said he’d been to your grandparents’ house when she was little, and that he was at her high school and college graduations? Do you think…?”

“What?”

“Never mind.” She shook her head.

“No, what were you going to say?”

“It’s just. Jennings and your mom obviously had a secret. A secret that would ruin your family, most of all Cheyenne. And remember how he was talking about your mom after your dad’s funeral. I don’t even want to say this but what if—”

“They had an affair and Jennings Abernathy is Cheyenne’s real father.” I finished.

“I’m so sorry.” Reagan wrapped her arms around me and held me tightly.

I held on to her tightly, letting the feel of her anchor me. My mind spun as I tried to figure out what I was going to do with this information. If that were true, it would mean that my sister was really my half-sister. And even worse, that she was half Jennings Fucking Abernathy.

The End

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