“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 mention
ed 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.
Chapter Ten
Reagan—October 27, 2010
I FLASHED A grateful smile at the secretary as she came in to hand me a stack of papers, and continued talking to one of our bigger clients.
“I just sent it over to you; let me know what you think.”
As I waited for his response, I flipped quickly through the requests before putting them in the inbox.
“Now, it’s a little different from the style you usually go for, but I really think—”
“Love it!”
I smiled and tried to contain the relief in my voice. “I’m glad.”
“I love this modern twist you put on it.”
“All right, well, make sure it all looks good, and if it does, I’ll put the order in.”
“No changes, I’m happy with this one, whoever had the balls to change it up on me deserves a raise.”
Smiling to myself, I wished my boss could’ve been in here for this call. “Okay. I’ll put the order in right . . . now.” I trailed off as my cell phone vibrated with Parker’s school on the ID. Fear gripped at my chest and I hurried to get off the phone. “Have a good rest of your week, Mr. Walton.”
“Bye now.”
“Hello?” I answered my cell as I hung up the office phone, and held my breath.
“Miss Hudson?”
“Yes.” Please, God, please let Parker just be in trouble.
“This is Assistant Principal Reese from Parker’s elementary school.”
“Hi, is everything okay?”
“Ma’am, we had to call an ambulance to take Parker to the hos—”
“What?!” I yelled into the phone and stood so fast my desk chair rolled back until it hit the wall.
“They just loaded him up and left a few minutes ago.”
I gripped at my head and spun in a tight circle as I tried to think of what I had to do. “Aren’t you—aren’t you supposed to call me before you just take him to the hospital?”
“He fell off the gym set during the lunch recess and was knocked unconscious, he still hadn’t woken up by the time the ambulance left.”
I stopped spinning abruptly and my entire body trembled as I reached blindly for my chair. “W-what? He . . . are you sure it was Parker?”
“Yes, and I’m so sorry to have to be the one to call you. But are you able to go to the hospital, or have another family member meet them there?”
“Is he okay? He’s going to be okay right?” I don’t know how I’d ended up on the floor, but I couldn’t figure out how to get back up. I wasn’t seeing anything other than Parker.
The man was silent for a few seconds. “It was a pretty bad fall, Miss Hudson. You should probably get to the hospital. Maybe have someone drive you.”
Why wasn’t he telling me if Parker would be okay or not? Why was he talking like he wouldn’t be? Fat tears quickly fell down my cheeks, and my head jerked to the right when my boss touched my shoulder.
“I’m going,” I said into the phone before ending the call and letting my boss help me stand.
“What happened? I heard you—”
“P-parker was rushed—” I cut off on a sob, and pressed down onto Coen’s name on my phone. “I have to go.”
He just nodded and stepped back as I frantically searched for my purse.
I took off running down the hall and out of the building as Coen’s voice mail picked up. Ending the call only to call him again, I begged for him to answer.
Just before I ended the call again, he answered. “Hey, Ray, I’m in the middle of a shoot.” He must have heard my sobs because he quickly asked, “Babe, what’s wrong?” Panic filled his tone.
“Parker’s school called! They said—they said he fell off something on the playground and was unconscious.” Another sob burst from my chest as I cranked the engine on my car and pulled out of the parking spot. “He was taken to the hospital by ambulance, he still wasn’t waking up by the time they left. He said it was bad, Coen, he couldn’t even tell me he was going to be okay!”
Coen’s ragged breaths filled the phone. “What? No . . . no.”
I choked on my tears, and the sound must have finally broken through Coen’s denial.
“Oh my God. I’m on my way.”
“Coen, tell me he’s going to be okay,” I pleaded.
“He’s going to be fine, Reagan. He’s going to be fine. Babe, you shouldn’t be driving. Pull over, let me pick you up.”
“No!” I yelled. “I can’t sit here and do nothing, I need to get to him. I have to go!”
“Damn it!” he gritted, but I knew by his tone that he’d acknowledged I wouldn’t be waiting for him. “Reagan Hudson, listen to me. Keep yourself safe. I’m on my way and I’ll meet you there.”
I nodded and whispered some sort of good-bye before ending the call and calling my mom. The entire time I prayed Parker would be okay.
Coen—October 27, 2010
I PARKED IN the first spot I found, and didn’t even bother to check if it was a handicap space or not. I didn’t fucking care. They could tow my car if they wanted. I’d already run out on a client after barely telling him why I was leaving, and gone over double the speed limit the entire way . . . a goddamn handicap space wasn’t going to stop me from getting in that hospital.
Running into the ER, I looked around the waiting room and rushed to the window when I didn’t see Reagan or anyone from her family. “Parker Hudson.”
The lady looked at me like I’d just ruined her day before sighing. “Can I help you, sir?”
“Parker Hudson, he was brought in here by ambulance not long ago. Where is he?” Adrenaline was coursing through my body, and I was five seconds from breaking through the locked doors and finding him myself. I didn’t know if Reagan had made it here okay, I didn’t know
if Parker was awake yet . . . I was flipping the fuck out.
Recognition hit her eyes. “His mother just came through here. You can wait out here for now, it’s only family allowed back there.”
I slammed my hand on the counter. “And he’s my son, where the fuck is he?!”
The security guard I’d passed when I entered the ER walked up behind me. “Sir, I suggest you calm down.”
Looking over my shoulder, I narrowed my eyes at him until he took a step back before looking back at the woman behind the window. “Lady, do not keep me from them right now,” I said darkly. “Not after the phone call I just received. They need me, and I need to be back there. Now tell me. Where. Is. He.”
She forcefully swallowed and straightened. “Room thirteen.”
Pushing away from the counter, I walked quickly over to the doors and waited until I heard the beep before pulling them open and jogging through the crowded halls. Turning a corner, I saw a flag over a door with the number thirteen on it, and quickened my steps. Stepping in, I came to a stop when I saw Reagan talking with a doctor, and just past them was Parker, hooked up to too many machines.
I’d seen some of the worst things anyone could witness in this world—and, granted, I couldn’t sleep from it—but seeing Parker lying in that bed was enough to make my knees go weak and all the air leave my lungs.
A short cry burst past Reagan’s lips, and she launched herself into my arms.
“I’m here, baby,” I managed to choke out as I pressed my lips to her head. “I’m here.” Looking up at the doctor, I took a deep breath and steeled myself. It didn’t matter how much it killed me to see Reagan break down, or to see Parker in that bed, they needed someone strong right now. “How is he?”
“Coen?” Parker mumbled, and I squeezed Reagan tighter to me. When she didn’t react to it, I waited for the doctor to speak.
The doctor assessed the position I was in with Reagan, and figured it was fine to talk. “Good news is that even though there seemed to be a lot of blood, it was only because it was a head injury. The cut isn’t big enough to require stitches even. We’re waiting on the techs to come and take him back for X-rays so we can make sure there’s no major swelling or any cracks on his skull. I don’t know how much you know, but he was unconscious for a bit there. He’s awake, but he feels nauseous and the lights are bothering him, so he’s keeping his eyes closed. Typical of a concussion.” He closed the folder and looked at me. “Do you have any questions?”
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