by T. R. Cupak
Present Day
I watched Reagan move behind the bar, talking to customers and making drinks. She wasn’t the same eighteen-year-old I’d last seen. No, she was a woman now. A fucking beautiful woman. Her hair was still long, dark, and luscious, and her eyes were still the familiar deep emerald color I’d stared into so many nights when we were younger. But her body ...
Fuck.
She was curvier in all the right places. Her breasts were larger than I remembered, and so was her ass, but not in a bad way. She’d filled out nicely.
She was stunning, and I wasn’t the only one who had noticed. While I sipped my beer, I noted that her barback had his eye on her too. He would smile when they bumped into each other, making sure to accidentally brush her arm every time he was near her, and he watched her when he didn’t think anyone was looking.
But I was looking.
It was hard not to focus all my attention on how beautiful she was but, being a cop, I always tried to be aware of everything around me. A part of me was jealous that he got to work with her, but my cop senses told me something was off with this guy. I couldn’t put my finger on it just yet, but I knew I needed to watch him.
So, I did.
“Want another?” Reagan asked, coming over to me a few minutes later.
I looked down at the half finished warm beer. “No, I’m good.”
“All right. Just let me know if you do.”
“Hey.” I reached out my hand and grabbed her wrist, stopping her from walking away. “What time do you get off?”
She smiled warmly at me and then cocked a hip. “Are you flirting with me, Mr. Valor?”
I smiled back, still not removing my hand from her warm skin. “What if I were?”
Before she could respond, her barback bumped into her, causing my grasp to break free. “Sorry,” he muttered.
“Are you okay?” I asked her.
“Yeah.”
“Clumsy, ain’t he?”
Reagan chuckled. “Yeah, first night working with him too.”
Interesting.
She stepped back in front of me. “I get off in an hour. Are you sticking around?”
Hell yeah, I was. I looked at my watch and noted it was just after eleven. “Yeah, I don’t live far.”
“Oh really?”
“Just down the block actually,” I replied.
“Then you’ll need to visit more often.”
I grinned, and my gaze moved to her left hand, which didn’t have a ring. “Already planning on it.”
I noticed the barback stopped putting glasses away for a split second as though he were listening to us. He clearly had a thing for her.
Judy’s was still humming with people, but as soon as twelve o’clock hit, Reagan came out from the back and walked straight to me. “Want to go somewhere quieter?”
My face widened with a smile. “Are you flirting with me, Ms. Hunter?”
She chuckled. “What if I were?”
I slid off the stool. “Then I’d say we should get out of here.”
A glass shattered behind the bar, and I glanced up to see that the barback had caused the noise. The closing bartender walked over and said to him, “Clean this up and then you’re good to go home.” The barback nodded, glanced at us, and then walked to the back.
“Ready?” I asked.
Reagan turned to me. “Yeah. Where are we going?”
“Well, I do live right down the street,” I reminded her.
“Moving a little fast, don’t you think?” she teased. At least I presumed she was teasing. Even if we did have sex tonight, it wouldn’t be our first time together. Was that moving too fast? I wouldn’t turn her down, but I also wanted to go somewhere quiet and find out what had been going on in her life since we were teenagers.
I moved a step closer to her and whispered into her ear, “Or we can go to your car and pretend it’s like old times.”
Chapter Four
Reagan
After we stepped out of Judy’s, Ethan asked again if I wanted to go back to his place. “Nothing will happen.” He held up his hands, palms facing forward. “I just want to know what you’ve been up to the last two decades, and nothing else is open around here.”
I didn’t argue with him because I wanted to know what he’d been up to as well. From the first time Ethan had literally run into me in the halls at school, he’d always made my belly dip. No man, not even my ex-husband, had ever had that effect on me. Over the years, I’d tried to find him on social media, but there was never anything about him. I wasn’t surprised because a friend of mine in Denver dated a cop and one time she told me cops typically didn’t have social media because, if criminals found them, they’d find their family. Ethan’s sister was a celebrity of sorts in Chicago, and everyone knew who she was because she was the lead anchor for the evening news, but her social media was private and I never saw a picture other than one of her and her husband she’d posted as her profile picture.
“How far away do you live?” I asked.
“Just another block.”
When we were younger, the man walking next to me would always grab my hand when we’d walk side by side. But now, as we walked down the street, we were at least three feet apart.
Three feet that felt like three miles.
I didn’t know why I felt the way I did. We hadn’t seen each other in many years, but I wanted him to touch me. I wanted to remember what it felt like to be in his arms because, when I had been there before, I’d felt safe. And even though I had no reason not to feel safe now—or even then—I still wanted to remember what it felt like to know that no matter what he’d protect me. Something about Ethan instantly put me at ease and I hated how our relationship had ended because it was all my fault.
The phone rang in my ear as I held the receiver, waiting for Ethan to answer the other end. I didn’t want him to pick up the phone. Didn’t want to hear his voice, but I had to break up with him because I’d cheated on him. I would like to say it wasn’t my fault, but it was. I’d drank one too many beers and kissed another man. A man who wasn’t my boyfriend. A man who wasn’t my first love.
“Hello?” Ethan answered.
I took a deep breath before I replied, “Hi.”
“Hey, Buttercup.”
A tear ran down my cheek as I heard the term of endearment leave his lips. He always called me buttercup because my favorite flower was buttercups, specifically the Parisian ones that resembled roses.
“We need to break up,” I blurted.
“What?” he questioned.
“It’s—It’s just not working out.”
“Bullshit,” Ethan snapped.
“Please,” I begged.
“Is there someone else?”
“No.” There really wasn’t. I didn’t even remember the name of the guy I’d kissed. “It’s hard to keep up our relationship and school. It’s just not working out.” Part of that statement was true, but if I hadn’t kissed whatever-his-name-was, we wouldn’t be having this conversation, and my heart wouldn’t be breaking in half.
“We can make it work.”
More tears ran down my face as I tried to hide the sorrow in my voice. “We can’t.”
He paused for a moment before replying, “One day, Reagan Hunter, you’ll regret this.”
I already did.
The closer we got to his apartment, the more I wanted to tell him what really happened to make me break up with him all those years ago. But I didn’t.
“I’m all out of beer,” he admitted as we walked through the doors of his building. Ethan nodded to the doorman, and we walked toward the elevators. “That’s actually why I went to Judy’s tonight. But I have apple juice if you’d like.”
I laughed. “Apple juice?”
He grinned and pressed the button to call the elevator. “My sons both love apple juice.”
“You have kids?”
“Two boys. You?”
“I have a daughter.”
The elevator dinged, and then the doors opened. We stepped inside, and Ethan pressed the button for his floor. “Just the one?”
I sighed and leaned against the railing as the lift ascended. “We tried for more, but it never happened.” His gaze dropped to my left hand, but before he could ask, I added, “I’m divorced now.”
“Me too.”
“Is this a normal thing for you then?”
“What’s that?” he asked as the doors opened and we stepped out onto his floor.
“Taking a woman home from a bar.” I smiled, trying to make a joke because the situation felt weird.
Ethan grinned. “No, it’s not a normal thing for me. I’ve dated a few women since my divorce, but work takes up a lot of my time.”
“Did you end up becoming a cop?”
He nodded his head and fished his keys out of his pocket. “Yeah, I’m a lieutenant now.”
“That’s amazing,” I gushed as Ethan opened the door.
“Yeah, I love it. What made you decide to be a bartender?”
I chuckled slightly. Did he think I went to Stanford only to be a mixologist? Granted, I wasn’t using my bachelor’s degree in education. “Actually,” I stepped inside his condo and into the living room area, “I just started at Judy’s last week. My daughter recently started college, and I need something to do with my time. I’m going to take classes to become a crime scene investigator.”
“No shit?” He closed the door behind him.
I watched him walk to the open kitchen. “I’ve always wanted to work crime scenes.” When we were kids, my VCR was always set to record every crime show.
“You’re okay seeing dead bodies?”
It was my turn to balk, not because Ethan had shocked me with his question, but because I’d never thought about that. Sure, I knew there would be dead bodies, but I hadn’t considered the fact that I was going to see dead people.
I shrugged. “I guess so.”
Ethan pulled a jug of apple juice out of the fridge and then turned to a cabinet for glasses. He chuckled. “You better know so.”
“What is it like?” I asked, moving to a barstool at the kitchen island.
He paused with his hand on the cap of the bottle. “I think it depends on the person. For some, it’s gross. For others—like me—it is what it is. But the smell is disgusting. It’s the most foul thing in the world. I can’t even describe it.”
“Oh.”
“Each one gets easier to deal with, but killing someone and watching them take their last breath is the real deal.”
“That happened to you? You’ve killed someone?”
Ethan sighed and then opened the juice before pouring us each a glass. “Actually, it happened right behind you.”
Time stood still as I processed his words.
I blinked. “What?”
He slid a glass to me and then leaned forward, resting his elbows on the gray granite. “My sister was almost kidnapped. I happened to come over just in time to see the guy pointing a gun at her boyfriend. Before he could shoot, I did.”
“Wow,” I breathed, still processing the fact that he’d killed a man not ten feet from where I sat.
“Yeah, but you won’t be shooting people, so you don’t need to worry about those nightmares. Which part of investigating are you going to get your certification in?”
I took a sip of the sweet juice. “Forensics.” There were several types of investigators: forensics, photography, ballistics, DNA and blood analysis, and crime scene reconstruction. I wanted to gather and preserve physical evidence at crime scenes and then go back to the lab and analyze it, run tests on fibers and hair, and help solve the cases.
He grinned. “Then maybe we’ll work crime scenes together.”
I smiled back. “Maybe.”
Chapter Five
Ethan
The very first person I gave my heart to was sitting across from me.
The same person who first broke my heart, the person who still carried a piece of it after all these years. When I thought about seeing her again, I always thought I’d turn the other way. After all, she’d ripped out my heart and never looked back. But when I saw her tonight, all those thoughts went out the window, and now she was in my condo, drinking my apple juice like nothing had ever happened.
I didn’t hate her. It was the complete opposite. I …
I still loved her.
I knew that a part of me always had. They say you never forget your first love and that was definitely true. Just the thought of Reagan walking out my door tonight and never coming back again was messing with my head. I needed to prolong the reunion even though it was getting close to one in the morning and I had to be at work in less than eight hours. I wasn’t ready to let her leave my sight.
“Maybe I can be your study buddy?” I suggested. “I do know all about crime scenes.”
Reagan smiled. “You’d do that for me?”
I shrugged and picked up my glass of juice before walking to the other side of the island to sit next to her. “Sure, why not? It’ll be like old times.” I winked.
She bobbed her head and chuckled slightly. “Old times that used to lead to not studying or doing homework.”
That was true. After school and before our parents arrived home from work, we’d hang out and study. We were each other’s firsts—in more than one way.
“You never complained,” I reminded her.
She threw her head back, laughing. “No. No, I didn’t.”
My palms itched to touch her, to pull her into my arms and feel her lips on mine again as I kissed her. Instead, I said, “So, tell me what Reagan Hunter has been up to the last twenty some odd years.”
She took a deep breath. “Well, I graduated from Stanford, moved to Denver, got married, had Madison about a year later, and have just been doing the mother thing since then. She kept me busy.”
“And now you live here?”
“Yeah. Moved far away from my ex and closer to Maddie.”
“And me,” I stated.
“And you, but I didn’t know you still lived here. What have you been up to?” Reagan took a sip of her juice.
“Like I mentioned earlier, I became a cop, then got married, had my two boys, dedicated most of my time to the job so I could one day be chief like my father, got divorced, and then went to a bar that has a reputation for people finding their soulmates.”
“What?” she asked, dragging out the word and scrunching her eyebrows.
I chuckled. “My sister met her husband at Judy’s.”
“She did?”
I nodded my head and then took a sip of juice. “About three years ago. Didn’t realize that the one time I’d go there, I’d run into the only woman I still dream about.”
She didn’t speak.
I didn’t speak.
The clock on the wall ticked …
Tock ...
Tick ...
Tock ...
Tick…
Tock.
I cleared my throat and rubbed the back of my neck. “So, when do you start classes?”
She swallowed. “Monday.”
“Let me give you my number, and you can call me if you need help.”
Reagan stood, moving to where she’d left her purse on the table by the front door. After fishing out her cell phone, she said, “Okay, give me your number.”
I took her phone, and after I typed my number into her contacts, I sent myself a text so I had her number as well. “I feel like we’re back in high school, exchanging numbers and shit to help with homework.”
She giggled. “Yeah, it’s like we’re starting over.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to ask if she wanted to try, but I thought better of it. Instead, I handed her back her phone and said, “Would you like to go on a ride-along with me sometime?”
Her emerald eyes brightened. “Really?”
I smiled and went to sit on my couch as she returned her purse to the table. “Yeah. Then we can
see how you do with dead bodies.”
Reagan sat next to me, but not close enough to touch. “Do you get them every day or something?”
Chuckling, I said, “No, but we do live in one of the top thirty cities with the highest murder rates.”
“No wonder you’re used to it.”
“Yeah, and like I said, it gets easier.”
“A ride-along sounds fun. I’d love that.”
“Great, I’ll set it up.” There was a moment of silence, and being a gentleman, I should have offered to take her home, but I didn’t want her to leave. “Want to watch a movie or something?”
She paused again, and I knew she wanted to do the right thing—the right thing being head home since it was late. Instead, she said, “Yeah. Let me use the bathroom first.”
I grinned because her answer gave me hope that we were both feeling something. “Just down the hall. First door on the left.”
Reagan returned not long after, and we selected a movie while she got comfortable on one side of the couch, and I got comfortable on the other side. I had to admit that we’d never watched a movie together this way. Even when we first started dating, I wrapped my arm around her shoulders. Now, she was a mile away, and I felt the hole between us.
While we watched the TV, I made it my new mission to win her back.
Reagan Hunter was going to be mine again.
Chapter Six
Reagan
I woke in a bed.
After slowly opening my eyes, I looked over and noticed I was alone. I couldn’t remember falling asleep or getting into a bed—a bed that wasn’t mine. I didn’t feel hungover, drugged, or anything like that, so I didn’t understand how I didn’t remember anything except watching a movie on Ethan’s couch.
I lifted the covers, looking down to see that I was still in my clothes except for my shoes. Turning my head, I noticed a piece of paper on the pillow next to me. I sat up and grabbed it.
Buttercup,
You’re still cute when you snore.