“Baby girl, what’s wrong?” he asked, panic bleeding over the line with every word.
The tears started again and I knew he could hear me crying. “I did something terrible and I can’t go home to Donovan. I need you to come get me until I can work things out with him. If I can…”
He exhaled slowly, trying to calm us both. “Calm down. Everything’s going to be okay. He loves you. You two will fix things.”
“I don’t know, Dad. I really messed up.” My sobbing escalated and the driver glanced back at me before quickly turning his attention back to the road.
“Shh, shh, it’s okay, baby girl. I’m leaving right now and I’ll be there soon. Just try to calm down and breathe, okay? Where should I pick you up?”
“I’ll text you the address. I have a friend who works there. She’ll let me hang out until you get there.”
“Okay. Everything’s going to be okay,” he promised.
I nodded, even though I didn’t believe him. We ended the call soon after so he could get on the road and I fell back against the seat, utterly drained. He sounded so optimistic, as he had when I was a little girl and had gotten into an argument with a friend. This was so much more than that. A friendship bracelet or shared bag of cookies wasn’t going to fix betrayal that cut so deep. Even if I could get Donovan to understand I had nothing to do with the picture Marie stole, I still had little faith he would ever forgive me.
By the time we reached Charlie’s, I was almost too exhausted to move. I paid my fare and dragged myself out of the cab. The driver sped away before I managed to take a step toward the tavern. Once I did, pure momentum kept me moving. Pulling the big doors open took more effort than usual, but I stumbled in and looked over at the bar, hoping Charis was working.
The second she saw me, her eyes widened and she dropped the rag she’d been wiping the bar with, abandoning her station in an instant. Shocked by how I imagined I must look, she touched my shoulders gently, as though she expected me to crumble at any moment. “God, Reagan, what’s going on? You look like hell. Are you okay?”
I shook my head, unable to say anything without bursting into tears.
Seeming to understand, Charis took my hand and pulled me toward the bar. It was Saturday night, and busy, but Charis shooed a few lingering drinkers off their stools at the end of the bar and sent them to an empty table. She plopped me down before taking a seat next to me. A few seconds later, a man slumped onto the stool next to her, angled away from us, and demanded a beer in a cutting voice that reminded me of how Donovan had last spoken to me. Charis’s eyes narrowed and a Fuck you was poised on her lips, but she squeezed my hand and said she be right back. Once she slammed the guy’s beer down in front of him with a scowl, her full attention was on me.
“Okay, girl, you’re really freaking me out. Is someone dead? Hurt? In the hospital? What is going on?”
I shook my head and struggled to find the strength to speak. “I think Donovan just broke up with me, and it’s all my fault.” When I began trembling, she reached her arms around me and pulled me into a hug.
For a long moment she held me like that. I was still in her embrace when she said, “First of all, Donovan fucking Gabriel is an asshole if he broke up with you. Secondly, he is so out of his mind in love with you, whatever stupid shit he might have said tonight, he’ll be crawling back begging your forgiveness by tomorrow morning. I don’t think there’s anything you could do that would change his mind about you, which is unfortunate for me, but will most likely make you feel a hell of a lot better tomorrow.”
Pulling back from her, I shook my head as I tried not to cry. “There’s only one thing I could have done to make him hate me…and I did it. Sort of.”
Charis raised an eyebrow. “Sort of? All right, explain.”
“Don’t you have to watch the bar?”
Waving her hand, she turned away from me and yelled, “Dusty! I’m taking a break. Watch the bar!”
I stared at her in disbelief. “How do you not get fired?”
Charis laughed, a deep belly laugh that attempted to make me feel better but just couldn’t. “Fired? That’s funny.” She chuckled, but noticed my confusion and tipped her head to one side. “Did you not realize this is my place?” she asked. “I own Charlie’s. No one’s going to fire me, so get to talking.”
“Oh,” I said. Surprised as I was by that, it did make me feel less guilty about unloading on her. As I let everything tumble out, Charis listened without commenting. Her patience was endless as I babbled and explained and justified and admitted fault. It seemed to take forever, and when I finally finished, I leaned against the bar and sucked in a trembling breath as I waited for her reply.
“Shit, girl, that’s definitely not what I was expecting,” Charis said. My hopes fell, but she reached out and squeezed my hand. “Still, even though Donovan has his head up his ass about a great many things, he’ll eventually calm down and let you explain. If you need somewhere to stay until then, my apartment above the tavern has an extra room you’re welcome to. I won’t even try to make out with you…unless you want me to.”
Chuckling, I said, “Thanks. My dad is driving in to pick me up, but if Donovan wants me out for good, I may take you up on that until I can find a new place.”
“Don’t start apartment hunting just yet,” she said as she stood. She patted my knee before making her way back around the bar.
While I appreciated her confidence, I was terrified it was misplaced. She didn’t understand how deeply I had hurt him. My betrayal wouldn’t be something he could forgive overnight. I was trying to protect him from Marie, but I had managed to ruin everything.
“How about I get you a nice stiff drink to take your mind off everything?” Charis offered. She grinned. “Whiskey in a Jar?”
I started to say that sounded like a fantastic idea when my mind switched gears and I had to grip the edge of the bar to keep from falling. Charis reached over the counter and grabbed my shoulder in a flash. “What’s wrong?” she demanded. “You look like you’re either going to faint or puke?”
“I can’t,” I whispered, my expressing crumpling into one of complete despair.
“Can’t what? Throw up?” She shook her head, confused.
My head turned back and forth as I fought back an outburst. “No, drink. I can’t drink.”
Charis’s fingers tightened around my shoulder. “Why can’t you drink, Reagan?” She froze when I lost control and began sobbing so hard my entire body was shaking. “Fuck, are you pregnant?” she asked. When I nodded between convulsing sobs, she climbed straight over the bar and threw her arms around me.
“What a fucking whore,” a gravelly, slurred voice sneered.
His words tore more tears from me, my crying intensifying, while Charis had the opposite reaction. Spinning away from me, she demanded, “What did you just fucking say to her?”
He scoffed at the anger in her voice. “Fuck a man over, screw up his life, then claim to be pregnant so he’ll feel sorry for you. What a fucking surprise.”
“That’s it,” Charis said. She grabbed the back of his blazer and yanked him off the bar stool. “Get out!”
“Hey!” he squawked. “You can’t throw me out! She’s the whore, throw her out!”
It wasn’t his words that struck me most this time. I sat up, eyes still bleary with tears as I stared after them. Something about his voice sounded familiar, but I couldn’t pinpoint what. I almost thought it was the disgust, but that didn’t make sense.
“It’s my bar,” Charis grunted as she shoved him up the steps toward the doors. “I can throw out any asshole I want, and tonight, you get the honor.” She gave him a final shove and he stumbled into the main doors.
Still facing away from me, he growled out a, “Fuck you,” to Charis before disappearing into the night, I never got a look at his face. It was probably nothing, just another hateful voice to make me feel horrible for what I’d done. It didn’t matter. Charis stalking back toward me sto
le my focus and turned everyone’s heads back to their own meals or drinks.
“Forget what that fuckwad said,” she barked as she sat on the stool next to me and glowered at nothing.
Reaching out, I squeezed her hand. “Thank you, for everything.”
Sighing, Charis squeezed back. It took her a minute to stuff away her anger and refocus. “Shit, Reagan, are you really pregnant?”
“I just found out today. He doesn’t even know yet,” I whispered.
Charis rubbed her hand across her forehead. “Are you going to tell him?”
I had rushed home from the doctor’s office earlier that day excited to do exactly that, but I could only shrug in answer to her question now. “I don’t want him taking me back just because of that. I’d rather do this on my own than have him forgive me out of pity and duty.”
Charis nodded in understanding, but her nose crinkled a moment later. “But, you two work together. How are you going to hide it?”
My entire body tensed as reality sunk in. When this all started, I’d made it very clear to Donovan that I didn’t want a relationship ruining either of our careers. He’d promised that it wouldn’t. I guess we’d both broken promises.
“I’ll get Marie to transfer me to one of the other magazines she runs.”
“Will she do that?”
My jaw tightening to the point of pain, I couldn’t even force it open to speak. “She better. She owes me one hell of a favor after what she did.”
Charis clearly agreed, but her own anger softened after a few seconds. “You’ll tell him eventually, though, right? It would kill him to find out later that he had a child he didn’t know about. I give him a hard time, because he deserves it, but he’s a decent guy deep down.”
“I know,” I whispered tearfully, “and yes, I’ll tell him eventually. When things calm down and he can process the news without so much emotion pushing him into a choice he’ll regret later.”
Leaning against the bar, Charis sighed. “How did this get so fucked up? I thought you guys were sickeningly perfect for each other.”
Dropping my chin into my hand, I said, “I should have told him what Marie was planning from the beginning.”
“He should have told you about Keeling, too.”
I nodded, but still felt I was the one holding more of the blame for how the night had ended. I wanted to go to sleep, not wake up for a few days, and then attempt sorting out this disaster when my head was a little clearer. My phone buzzed against the bar, making me jump, but drawing a sigh of relief when I saw who it was from. I swiped across the screen and read my dad’s message.
I think I’m here. The lights next to the sign are out, but this is where my phone told me to go.
Slipping off the stool, I hugged Charis. “Thanks again. My dad’s outside, but I’ll let you know if I need to crash for a few days.”
She nodded. “Shoot me a text when you guys get to your dad’s place, okay?”
“Sure.” I turned away, glad she had been here tonight. I was a few steps away before I remembered what my dad had said and turned back. “Oh, I think the lights out front went out. My dad couldn’t see the sign very good.”
Charis’s face scrunched. “What? They were both on a little while ago.” She changed directions and walked with me to the entrance. She opened the door and we stepped through into darkness and she shook her head. “That’s weird. I guess I’ll go grab—”
A loud pop cut off her words. I was falling before I understood what was happening. A car door slammed, Charis screamed, feet pounded against the pavement. It all got quieter when I hit the sidewalk and felt my breath blasted out of me.
SIXTEEN
Choices
The tally of missed calls, voicemails, and unread texts continued to count up as I sat on my couch fuming and drained another beer. They’d started with Marie, surprisingly, then moved to Brandon, Emily, my mother, Reagan, and…her father. I hadn’t expected the last one, and I was so drunk by that point, I thought I might have imagined his name popping up on the screen for half a second before going dark again. Even if it was him, I didn’t give a fuck.
Regan had thrown everything away. Still furious with her, I felt like throwing something every time I saw one of her books or shoes, her makeup strewn over the bathroom counter when I dragged myself off the couch to piss. What the fuck had she been thinking? Why destroy everything we’d built just because Marie bullied her into helping her? It made no fucking sense!
Pounding on the apartment door jerked me out of my delirium, but only long enough to shout, “Go the fuck away!” I slumped back down in my seat and took another draw from the beer in my hand. Whoever the fuck it was could stand there banging on the door all night if the wanted. I didn’t give a shit.
“Donovan, open the fucking door!” Marie shrieked. When I refused to respond, she pounded even harder. “God damn you! Open the fucking door, you asshole! Hate me later, but don’t do this to Reagan! She needs you!”
“She shouldn’t have betrayed me!” I shouted. “That picture—”
“Nobody fucking cares about the picture, Donovan! Get your head out of your ass and read one of the dozens of texts I’ve sent, or the voicemails I’ve left, and get your ass over here so I can take you to the fucking hospital!”
Hospital? A cold sweat broke out over my entire body. As furious as I’d been with Reagan when I’d left her at the hotel, I’d called Bradford as soon as I got to my car and explained everything, demanded he keep an eye on her. Had Keeling gotten to her anyway?
Fumbling through picking up my phone, I tapped and swiped frantically until a list of text messages flooded the screen. The previews were enough to steal the breath from my body.
Reagan’s been shot! They’re taking her to…
At the hospital. She’s in surgery…
Donny, what’s going on? Marie called…
Answer the phone!
I’ll never let you back at Charlie’s if you don’t fucking… Charis. She was with Charis. She must have gone to Charlie’s after I left her. Of course she would have. I stumbled up from the couch and bolted for the door. Brandon and Emily were on location at a shoot for the weekend. It was why they weren’t at the benefit. Had he followed us there?
Taking three tries to turn the lock and get the doorknob turned, Marie grabbed the collar of my shirt as soon as I appeared and began dragging me down the hall. “God, you’re drunk off your ass,” she complained. She shoved me forward, zero sympathy for me, unlike when she’d shown up in a very similar way after Keira’s death.
My feet slowed and the cold went deeper. Death. Oh God. It was happening again. I left her there. Alone. I knew Keeling was in the area, a threat, and I still left her there alone.
“Keep moving,” Marie, hissed. “I cannot carry you the whole way, so man up, Donovan! I have zero patience for your bullshit right now.”
Incensed by her berating me after what she’d done, I said, “But you…”
“Nobody fucking cares about your hurt feelings right now,” she snapped. “It wasn’t even her fault, okay? I’m the one who gave Rudolph the studio shot. Brandon mentioned he left you in there with Reagan that night, just to show me you were moving forward and get me off your back. He had no idea about contributing and no fucking clue I might steal the photo off your computer when I had the IT guy in your office about the printer issue. I can’t believe you thought Reagan would do that to you anyway, you self-absorbed prick! That girl worships you. She stood up to me for you, and she was trying to protect you from me when she made the camera photo collage.”
I stumbled to a stop and stared at her. “What?”
Marie shoved me forward, wasting no time answering questions. “Reagan is in surgery. That’s all anyone knows at this point, and her dad could really use you by his side through this, so move!”
“Her dad? He’s here? Why?”
Marie threw her free hand in the air, then punched at the elevator call button. “How the hell
should I know? She called him after your hissy fit, I’m assuming. Ask him when we get there!”
That was the last thing she said to me. She pretended at being armored in an unbreakable shell, but after she shoved me into her SUV and climbed into the driver’s seat, she couldn’t hide how badly her hands were shaking as she shifted into gear and lurched into traffic. As she drove, I didn’t look up from my phone, reading every text, listening to every voicemail, scouring each one for more information. When I ran out of new ones, I responded to friends and family, telling them I was on my way, but having nothing more to offer than anyone else had.
My mom sobbed through our entire conversation. Emily was so hysterical Brandon had to take the phone from her and finish finding out that I had no fucking clue what was going on, but would keep them updated when I found out more. When I called Charis, hoping for something, she stumbled through an account of walking Reagan outside to where he father had parked, the lights having been smashed out, and the sound of a gunshot half a second before seeing Reagan collapse. She thought someone might have chased after the shooter, but she wasn’t sure.
My call to Derrek was the calmest, surprisingly enough. His voice was leaden with emotion as he spoke, but filled with reassurance as he told me the doctors were working on her and everything was going to be fine. It was difficult to tell if he really meant that or was so focused on convincing himself that he refused to allow any other possibilities to enter his mind. We ended our call when Marie pulled up to the ER and we ran for the entrance.
When we finally reached where Charis and Derrek had been told to wait, my drunken stupor had been replaced by an adrenaline fueled fear that kept me alert and on edge. Nobody spoke. Derrek pulled me into a hug, despite seeming to know I had been a complete and utter asshole to his daughter that night, and kept patting me on the back. Charis stayed close, but kept her arms wrapped tightly around her own body, alternating between frowning as she struggled to hold back tears and glaring holes through me. Only Marie sat down in one of the chairs.
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