Cold Feet

by Samantha A. Cole

  Frustrated and bored, Regina began to scroll through the cable guide for a third time, hoping something would’ve changed in the last minute or so and a movie or show would catch her eye. She was about to settle on a rerun of Law & Order when she heard an explosion in the distance and the house went dark.

  She froze.

  Oh no, no, no. With the moon behind some clouds, she could barely see her own hand in front of her face. A glance out the living room window revealed the three other houses in their small neighborhood were also dark. Feeling around on the couch next to her, she found her cell phone. She quickly brought it to life and activated the flashlight app. The room lit up, but it didn’t slow her pounding heart and increased breathing. A shiver of panic slid down her spine, and she struggled to keep it at bay. The last thing she needed right now was to start hyperventilating.

  Due to an incident when she’d been eight years old, she hated the dark. Zia had been visiting, and the two girls had been playing hide and seek. When it was Regina’s turn to hide, she’d crawled into the antique hope chest in her parents’ bedroom. It’d been empty because her mother had recently inherited the piece of furniture after Regina’s great-grandmother had passed away. Her folks had been in the backyard, working on the vegetable garden in a greenhouse her father had built. Ryan and his friends had also been outside, tossing a baseball around, getting ready for a Little League game. Knowing her friend wasn’t supposed to be in her parents’ bedroom, without their permission, Zia hadn’t looked in there. Instead, she’d searched the other three bedrooms and the hall bath on the second floor before descending the stairs to try to find her friend somewhere else in the house.

  In the meantime, the outside latch on the hope chest had fallen back into place, locking Regina in. When she’d realized the lid wouldn’t lift, she’d gotten scared. At first, she was afraid to call out because she didn’t want to get into trouble for being in her parents’ room. But then panic had set in, and she’d started to cry and scream as she struggled against the lid and walls of the chest. Finally, Ryan and Buck had come back inside with Zia to help her find her friend and had heard her screeching. Regina had been bruised all over from kicking, punching, and banging her head, and her fingers had been bloody from trying to claw her way out. She’d been inconsolable when they’d rescued her, and it’d taken her mother about an hour to calm her down.

  Ever since then, Regina had slept with a digital clock in her room to provide just enough light for her to see if she woke up in the middle of the night. First her mother, and then Regina as she’d gotten older, had always made sure there were fresh batteries in the clock just in case the power went out.

  Taking a few deep breaths, she tried to keep her panic in check. Standing on shaky legs, she used the flashlight to make her way into the kitchen where she retrieved a lighter from the utility drawer. There were several scented candles she’d put around the house after she’d moved back in, and she began to light them, praying the power wouldn’t be out for too long.

  After lighting one in the kitchen and another in the dining room, she returned to the living room. She’d just lit one of two candles on the coffee table when there was a pounding on the front door. She yelped loudly as her heart felt like it would explode from under her ribs. Fear ruling her body, Regina stood frozen in place.

  The doorknob rattled. “Gi! It’s me! I’m coming in!”

  Relief surged through her as the front door swung open and Buck strode in, his alert gaze taking in the situation. As he kicked the door shut, her knees began to buckle, and he rushed forward and scooped her up in his arms before she could hit the floor. “Shh. I got you, baby.”

  Holding her tightly, he sat on the couch and settled her on his lap. “I’ve got you, Gi,” he murmured in a soft but reassuring tone. “Everything’s going to be fine.”

  Regina gulped in mouthfuls of air as her body shuddered. Buck’s strong arms wrapped around her, and one hand stroked her hair. “It’s okay, baby. It’s okay.”

  As much as she hated to admit it, there was no other place she’d rather be, at that very moment, than in Buck Thompson’s arms. Soon, she’d have to pull herself together and get off his lap, but, for now, she’d let him take care of her and calm her. And, hopefully, later, she’d be able to forget about how her body started to respond to his.

  Reaching behind him, Buck grabbed a blue afghan that Regina’s mother had knitted years ago from the back of the couch and wrapped it around the scared woman in his lap. She still hadn’t stopped shaking, but he knew what would help. After sliding her off his lap, onto the cushion beside him, he stood. “I’ll be right back. Okay?” When she didn’t look up or answer him, he cupped her chin and lifted until her navy-blue eyes met his brown ones. “Gi? I’m just going into the kitchen, okay? I’ll be right back.”

  Finally, she nodded. Damn, with her wide eyes, pale skin, and trembling lips, she looked years younger. Not wanting to leave her for long, Buck hurried into the kitchen and retrieved two tumblers from one cabinet and a full bottle of Southern Comfort from another. After pouring a few ounces of the amber liquor into each glass, he carried them out to the living room where he found her trying to light a second candle on the coffee table. However, her hands were shaking so badly the flame at the end of the long lighter kept going out. Putting the glasses down, he reached for the lighter. “Here, let me get that.”

  As he lit the candle for her, she pulled the blanket tighter around her body and sat back on the couch. Taking a seat next to her, he picked up the two glasses again and handed her one. When the whiskey sloshed over the rim, he put his hand over hers and helped her get the glass to her mouth without spilling any more. “Ryan would have a fit if he saw you waste his SoCo like that.”

  She snorted then took a few sips. He waited patiently as, over the next few minutes, she emptied the glass. “Feel better?”

  Nodding, she pulled up her feet and sat cross-legged. While there was still a slight tremor in her hands, the rest of her muscles seemed to be under control. Picking up the other glass, he took a sip and got comfortable.

  “What happened? Why did the lights go out and . . . and why are you here?” she asked, albeit hesitantly.

  “I was late getting out of work and was about a half mile up the road when I saw and heard an explosion. I have a scanner in my truck that picks up the police, fire, and EMS dispatchers. Apparently, a transformer blew. The fire department and electric company are responding. The power might be out until the morning though. It’ll take them a few hours to get a new transformer up and working.”

  “Thank God.” At his surprised look, she shook her head. “I don’t mean thank God that the power will be out all night, because that really sucks. I meant thank God it was a transformer that blew and wasn’t anything else where someone could’ve been hurt or killed.” She paused. “So why did you come here?”

  He swallowed another sip of the SoCo. “I knew Ryan was away for the weekend and assumed you were home alone. I knew if the power was out, there was a good chance you’d be freaking. I just wanted to check and make sure you were all right.”

  In the candlelight, he was just able to make out a blush staining her face. “Thanks,” she murmured.

  Reaching out, he brushed his knuckles against her cheek. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, Gi.”

  “Says the man who’s not afraid of the dark.”

  Setting the glass on the coffee table, he turned his body to face her. “Hey, there’s nothing wrong with having a phobia after a traumatic event like you had.”

  “That happened when I was eight, Buck. I’m twenty-six, almost twenty-seven. I shouldn’t still be a chickenshit when the lights go out.”

  “You’re not a chickenshit. Everyone has a phobia about at least one thing or another—yours just happens to be of the dark, and you have a damn good reason for having it. Don’t be too hard on yourself. Look at Zia—she’s afraid of clowns. And your brother—still scared of needles, right?”r />
  She chuckled. “Yup.” They sat in silence for a moment, then Regina stood. At Buck’s questioning gaze, she said, “If we’re going to sit here, in the candlelight, talking without anyone else around for the first time in years—well, second if you count the parking lot the other day—I’m going to owe Ry a bottle of SoCo.”

  Well, at least she wasn’t kicking him out the door. As much as he knew she deserved far better than him, he missed their friendship. Even though she was a few years younger than her brother and his friends, their families had always been close. Maybe with them both living in Largo Ridge again, seeing each other more often, and with a little time, they could get back to where they’d been before he’d been stupid enough to kiss her. He knew he’d hurt her back then, running out on her and leaving her standing there well-kissed but confused, but he’d crossed a line. Ryan was like a brother to him, so that should’ve made Regina like a sister, right? But a guy didn’t have the types of fantasies Buck had about a sister. After all those years, telling himself he’d been an ass for taking advantage of the moment and her naivety, he was still attracted to her. His sweet “squirt” had grown up to become a beautiful woman. One who had guys’ heads turning and their tongues and dicks wagging after her. On top of that, she was smart, funny, and caring.

  And Buck was damaged goods. He could be friends with her but nothing more.

  When she returned from the kitchen, she had the bottle of whiskey tucked under one arm and two bowls in her hands—one filled with salsa, the other with tortilla chips. Buck jumped to his feet and grabbed the alcohol, so she could set the food on the table. Without a word, she spun around and headed back into the kitchen. Opening the bottle, he poured the equivalent of two shots into both glasses, then set it aside.

  For the next few minutes, he heard Regina opening and closing the doors to the refrigerator and several cabinets, along with a drawer. When he asked her if she needed any help, she’d declined his offer, so he picked up his glass again and nursed the whiskey in between mouthfuls of chips and salsa. Until she’d brought them out, he’d forgotten he hadn’t had dinner yet, but his stomach was growling for something a little more substantial.

  Regina reappeared, this time carrying a platter with three different types of cheeses, pepperoni, soppressata, and crackers. “I had a late lunch but no dinner. I assume you haven’t eaten tonight yet either. I hope this is enough—I have to go grocery shopping tomorrow. Ryan eats like food’s going out of style. I forgot what it’s like living with a man who can eat his own weight in steak—I’m used to sharing an apartment with two women and a full refrigerator.”

  He moved things out of the way, so she could place the platter on the coffee table along with two small paper plates and some napkins. “You’re amazing, woman. And it’s plenty—thank you.”

  They noshed in silence until Buck’s stomach was happier than it’d been twenty minutes ago. Regina had stopped eating before he had and curled up on her end of the couch with the afghan wrapped around her again. When he leaned back against the cushions, Regina asked, “So, what about you, Buck? What are you afraid of?”

  He snorted. “I’m a lean, mean, fighting machine, Gi. I ain’t afraid of nuttin’.”

  “Ain’t ain’t a word. Didn’t Mrs. Forsythe drill that into your and Ryan’s heads back in second grade?”

  A smile spread across his face. “We had her in third. Noah and Justin were in her class with us too. I think we scarred her for life and made her decide to drop a grade, to kids who were a year younger and less trouble. After that, Principal Yarro made sure the four of us were split between the two classes for fourth and fifth. If there’d been four classes per grade, I’m sure he would’ve put one of us in each so we couldn’t cause any more chaos.”

  “You all weren’t that bad. At least not that I can remember.”

  “We weren’t exactly bad—I mean, we rarely got suspended, and no one got expelled like Tommy Reed. But we did have a few teachers pulling their hair out every now and then.”

  “Tommy Reed? I don’t remember that name. Does he still live around here?”

  He shook his head. “Nope. If I remember correctly, not long after he was expelled, his folks divorced, and his mother took him and moved somewhere. I never saw him again. Hell, I’m surprised I remembered his name after all this time.”

  “What did he get expelled for?”

  A chuckle preceded his answer. “It was when we were in fourth grade. He tossed a bunch of lit firecrackers under the principal’s car, then told the guy to fuck off. He got suspended for that. The next day, he called in a bomb threat to the school. It didn’t take the cops long to trace the call back to him. They expelled him, but I don’t know if he got any juvie time for it. He was a weird kid—I wouldn’t be surprised if his name comes up when some guy goes postal somewhere and kills a bunch of coworkers or something.”

  “I don’t remember hearing any of that, but if you were in fourth grade, I would’ve been in Pre-K.”

  She’d been such a cute kid back then—her hair up in pigtails as she tried to follow her brother and his friends everywhere they went. Like most young boys, they’d thought their female tag-along had been a pain in the ass sometimes, but they still watched out for her.

  “So, you never answered my question,” Regina said after taking another sip of her whiskey. The alcohol was calming her, although, the candlelight and his company were probably helping too.

  “What question was that?”

  “You said everyone’s afraid of something, so what’s your something?”

  Reaching for the platter on the table, he snatched a piece of pepperoni and popped it into his mouth, giving himself a few moments before he had to answer. One thing he’d learned about Regina while growing up, she could be a pit bull when she wanted to know something someone wasn’t telling her. She’d almost ruined the surprise party her family had thrown for her thirteenth birthday because she’d figured out something was going on. She’d hidden in Ryan’s room when Buck and Noah had stopped by a few days before the party. They’d mentioned it and a muffled squeal had come from under the bed. After dragging her out, Ryan had told her to fake being shocked at the party because their folks had been planning it for weeks. Buck had to admit, she’d been pretty damn convincing when everyone had jumped out and yelled surprise the day of the party.

  A glance at her face told him she was waiting for him to answer, and she’d be pissed if he didn’t. Not wanting her getting mad at him when they’d been talking like old friends again, he sighed and ran a hand down his face. He couldn’t look at her as he confessed, “I’m afraid of my nightmares. I’m afraid some night I’m going to go to sleep and wake up in the middle of one of my nightmares and stay there.”

  There was an extended pause, and then she softly asked, “Do you suffer from PTSD?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m sorry, Buck. I didn’t know.”

  He shrugged. “I know you didn’t. Most people don’t. Ry and Justin do. The nightmares are the worst of it, but gunshots or cars backfiring can send me into a panic. They had to hold onto me during Mr. Scott’s funeral when it was time for the twenty-one-gun salute.”

  Regina closed the distance between them and set a gentle hand on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry you have to go through that. It sucks that the men and women of our military can’t leave what they’ve seen and done on the battlefield and come home without having to relive it over and over again, if only in their minds. I know Ryan has the occasional nightmares. He won’t talk about them, but a few times I’ve heard him get up in the middle of the night. The first time, I came out to check on him because it sounded like he was stumbling around. By the time I got there, he was sitting on the floor in the kitchen with the lights off, pale and in a cold sweat. Said he just wanted to be alone and told me to go back to bed. When I hesitated, he basically ordered me to leave him alone. The next morning, he apologized and said when he gets like that, it’s best to just let him work i
t out himself.”

  Buck was surprised to hear Ryan seemed to have his own personal hell from a few tours in Afghanistan. Then again, he shouldn’t be surprised. Some members of the military who’d seen combat, or the worst humanity could inflict on itself, seemed to be able to deal with it better than others—or hide it better.

  “Hey, whatta you say to a game of backgammon?” Regina asked, clearly changing the subject, for which he was grateful. While she was letting him off the hook and not making him talk about an uncomfortable subject, it was also obvious she didn’t want him to leave yet. Whether it was because the lights were still out or she actually wanted to spend time with him, he didn’t know or really care because he didn’t want to leave either. “There’s enough light with the candles, and I bet I can still whip your butt.”

  He grinned. “You’re on. And it looks like your memory is off, squirt. I was the one who kicked your butt every time.”

  Her head pounding, mouth dry, and stomach roiling, Regina slowly awakened to the sunlight pouring in through the living room window. The couch was comfortable underneath her, but her head rested on something solid and unyielding. Weren’t their throw pillows softer than that?