Break On Through

by Ridgway, Christie

  Well, maybe this was all to the good, Reed decided. Refusing the kid would kill the connection.

  Opening his mouth, he looked straight into that pair of hopeful eyes. “Sure,” he said, and then tried to convince himself he’d given the wrong answer.

  The next afternoon, he checked himself out in the mirror. Clean jeans. Clean shirt, only semi-wrinkled. His fingers combed through his hair. The new cut didn’t look too bad.

  He shook out his arms and told himself he was a fool for being nervous. This wouldn’t be his first time in front of a school group. To that end, he’d even called ahead to find out how many children were in Obie’s class. He’d tossed in a box pencils and erasers stamped with his series logo. Everybody liked swag.

  Rolling up his sleeves, he took a last look at himself. Maybe the haggard thing would go over well with the elementary school crowd. He had high hopes of avoiding Cleo. She’d be waiting for the boys in the carpool line, he was sure. After show-and-tell, which closed out the second grade school day, he’d escape in the opposite direction.

  Twenty minutes later he hovered outside Room 3. The check-in process in the front office had been quick and the secretary had pointed him in the right direction after giving him a guest badge strung on a piece of thick yellow yarn.

  Taking a breath, he stepped through the doorway. It gratified him to see the kids were reading, and from the looks of it, their selections were free choice. The teacher glanced up, sketched him a wave, and then called for Obie.

  Upon seeing him, the kid’s face glowed. It was the damnedest thing.

  So was the way the boy’s hand fit in his. Reed allowed himself to be towed from the doorway to the teacher, a friendly woman who praised the tchotchkes he’d brought along for the kids. Obie’s reaction was even better. His blue eyes went wide and he smiled. “So cool!”

  Funny, how two words turned Reed’s height from 6’2” to 10’0”.

  The teacher rang a bell to get the class’s attention. Then she indicated that Obie should bring Reed to the front of the room.

  Nineteen pairs of eyes stared at him with the avidness of an entomologist examining a spangled flower beetle. He refused to fidget.

  “This is my neighbor Reed,” Obie said, glancing at the other students, then glancing away. “I’ve known him for a while.”

  Maybe the boy was a bit nervous too, because he shoved his hands in his pockets, took them out, shoved them inside again.

  Reed waved. “Greetings, everyone.” Greetings? Why the hell had he said that? Made him sound like Dr. Spock. If he kept this up, Obie would want to cut ties with him. He cleared his throat. “Nice to meet all of you.”

  Obie was staring at the ground, a flush crawling up his face.

  Reed agonized for the kid. If he knew how these show-and-tell things went, he’d step in. But he didn’t want to make the embarrassment worse.

  “Obie,” the teacher said. “Do you want to tell us a little about Reed?”

  The boy looked at her. “Yes,” he said, then his tongue seemed tied again.

  Reed cleared his throat and then regretted it as those nineteen gazes shifted from Obie to him. “I brought gifts.” Nothing wrong with bribing the little devils.

  That broke the ice some. The teacher elected another child to pass out the pencils and erasers and approving chatter rose from the desks. But it quieted at the teacher’s “shush” and then the class was focused on the front again.

  The teacher smiled an encouragement to Obie. “Do you want to tell the class how Reed is a famous writer?”

  Obie’s face scrunched up. “No.”

  Shit, Reed thought. He probably wanted to tell the world that Reed was an uncaring, cold jerk who’d toyed with his mother’s affections and then dropped her.

  As if thinking of Cleo conjured her up, he was startled to see her slip into the room, a clear plastic container of cupcakes in her hands. Obie brightened. “Mommy!” he said, waving.

  She smiled, waved back, and then sent Reed an apologetic look.

  When he should be the one extending apologies, he thought, his gaze taking in every inch of her from her cap of hair to her low-heeled sandals. He’d not even explained why he’d stopped calling and coming by.

  “I’m kind of a hermit,” he told the class. “Do you know what that is?”

  “You live in a cave?” one girl piped up.

  “Not exactly. But I don’t have a lot of practice talking to people…and kids. I work at my computer pretty much all the time and don’t get out much. It’s…hard for me to be friendly because I’m so accustomed to being by myself.” Did Cleo get he was talking to her?

  He supposed so, because she halted in her task of setting the snacks on napkins and straightened, looking at him. “I’m best at being alone.”

  “But you’re good at other things, too,” Obie said. “He knows how to make a sand castle with a moat.” He glanced at his teacher. “That’s so it has a line of defense.”

  She nodded as if absorbing new information.

  “Reed told me that. It’s to keep the bad guys—like zombies—away from the people inside.”

  At the back, Cleo’s dimple popped out as she tried to hide her smile. Inside his chest, Reed’s heart turned over. He knew so many things about her. Private expressions. Intimate secrets.

  “And he has a treehouse,” Obie said. “I used it as a hideout once.”

  “Treehouses are wonderful,” the teacher said.

  “Best of all…”

  Reed wondered what he would say.

  “He knows everything. Like the names of all the dinosaurs and the names of animal poop.”

  Cleo’s hand clapped over her mouth as Reed’s eyes went wide. “Uh, Obie—”

  “Bat poop is guano and otter poop is spraint and—”

  “Unfortunately that’s all we have time for today.” The teacher, clearly a pro, cut off the recitation calmly. “Thanks to Obie and his friend Reed and Obie’s mom who brought the snack today. You may go to back of the room to retrieve your cupcake.”

  The audience scattered, including Obie.

  Reed grimaced. “Sorry,” he said to the teacher.

  She waved that away. “It’s nothing. You both did well. Now go get a cupcake.”

  It was an order, wasn’t it? He took his place at the end of the line. The kids returned to their seats with their treat, leaving him facing Cleo across a narrow table.

  “Cupcake?” she said, glancing at him, then glancing back at the table.

  “How are you?” he asked softly.

  “Fabulous!” She peeked at him through her lashes. “You?”

  Miserable without your smile in my life.

  When he hesitated, she threw him another glance. “You cut your hair.”

  “Didn’t want to scare the kids.” He hauled in a breath. “I wish I could go back to that first early morning when we spoke.”

  “Do you?” She straightened. “What would you do differently?”

  He rubbed his hand over his face. “Not a damn thing,” he admitted. “That wasn’t the day I wish I could do over.” It was the one when he’d resolved to walk away from her that he wished to take back.

  Why couldn’t he have this—have her, have Eli and Obie in his life—at least a while longer? Let them call it off when they realized his ability to care was stunted. Why should he make the noble early sacrifice? “Cleo…” Across the narrow table he caught her hand.

  So small and smooth. He ran his thumb over her knuckles. “Darlin’…” Glancing around, he decided against discussing this inside the classroom. Instead, he drew her outside the door. The hall was deserted, and he held her loosely in his arms.

  “Cleo—” In his pocket, his cell phone buzzed.

  Her eyebrows lifted. “Is that your phone or is your vibrator happy to feel me?”

  “Forget about it,” he said, then it sounded again.

  “Answer,” she said. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Sure?” he
murmured, but pulled the device from his pocket. “Ren,” he said, frowning at the screen.

  His body went cold at the grim tone in the other man’s voice. The news grabbed him by the throat like a pair of sharp talons.

  He stared at Cleo. “Payne’s been in an accident. It’s bad.”

  Cleo had debated with herself for hours before finally surrendering to her heart’s wishes. It thrummed in her throat as she approached the hospital’s surgical waiting room. Though she couldn’t take in a full breath, she forced herself forward. Reed had helped her through her own recent hard times and she wanted to return the support.

  The flooring turned from gleaming tile to a sound-muting carpet. Not one of the beautiful people in the room looked up when she stepped inside. Even consumed by worry the Rock Royalty were unintentionally glamorous, from Cami Colson in her boots, tight jeans, and tooled leather cuff to Walsh Hopkins dressed in dynamic CEO-wear of a dark suit, loosened tie, and gleaming leather dress shoes.

  Cleo felt a clutch in her belly when she realized Reed wasn’t one of their number. She approached Alexa, feeling most comfortable talking to the newest member of their tribe. “Hey,” she said.

  Alexa looked up from her place on a chair beside Bing. He was racing his thumbs over his smart phone, while she stroked his hair. Giving her a small smile, Alexa patted the cushion of the empty seat beside hers. “You heard?”

  Cleo sank down. “I was with Reed when he got the news.” How come he wasn’t at the hospital? Did he really find it that easy to disconnect? “But I didn’t get any details. Just that an accident occurred.”

  Alexa grimaced. “Payne was practicing for an upcoming Formula E race.”

  “I don’t know what that is.”

  “I just learned myself. Formula E race cars are electrically powered—and they can go up to 150 miles per hour. We don’t know Payne’s speed when he flipped.”

  Cleo’s mouth dried. “Flipped.”

  “He’s in surgery now.”

  “He’s going to be okay,” Cilla said from a nearby loveseat. She shared it with Ren, who sat with his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands. “I’m certain of it.”

  Suddenly her fiancé straightened, his expression both anguished and frustrated. “Cilla, remember when I first came back to L.A.?”

  “I do.” She linked her hand with his, the matching tattoos on their forearms creating that heart.

  He traced the shape with a forefinger, as if it could calm him. “I ran into Payne on the street and didn’t recognize him.”

  “That’s changed.”

  “Fucking Lemons,” Ren said.

  “We’re making lemonade now, though, aren’t we baby?” Cilla asked.

  He looked up, his expression softening. “Because you’re sugar.”

  She smiled as Ren brought their linked hands to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. “No more wasting time,” he said.

  “No more wasting time,” she agreed.

  Cleo decided to take that advice. She stood. “I’m going to track down Reed. Bring him back here.” No matter what he thought, he needed to be with the rest of his family.

  “You don’t have to go far,” Ren said. “I saw him out in the corridor.”

  That raised her spirits…until she found him around the corner from the waiting area. His back to the wall, he sat on the floor, knees drawn up, his forehead against them, his arms folded over his head—the pose the very picture of retreat.

  Reed in a virtual cave. I’m best at being alone.

  Screw that, she decided, and slid down the wall to take her place beside him. “How are you holding up?” she asked.

  His arms dropped to his sides and he lifted his head to stare at her. “Cleo?”

  “The one and only.”

  He glanced around. “The boys?”

  “We’re trying a reprise of the sleepover. Alexa’s cousin has them…” She drew in a breath. “So I could be here with you.”

  “Cleo—”

  “For you,” she said firmly.

  The back of his head thumped against the wall and he pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “I’m not good company right now.”

  “I’m not expecting entertainment.” She wanted to move into him, enfold him in her arms and feel his wrap hers. Touch was comfort, she knew, thinking of Alexa stroking Bing’s hair and Ren and Cilla’s entwined hands.

  She didn’t believe Reed would welcome her now, though.

  It was a crushing thought.

  When he’d stopped calling and coming over after Pete’s final visit she’d understood. The incident had scared Reed, and though he made all those noises about being a loner and better off by himself, to her it had proved that he cared.

  In his mind, she realized now, maybe too much.

  She’d been holding out hope that he’d find her and the boys irresistible. Once, he’d said that. But now she wondered if it was the very thing he’d fight hardest against.

  In his growing-up years, there’d been excess and neglect, ready wealth and easy sex.

  But not real love. Not the kind that gave you strength and fueled dreams. He’d managed both on his own, of course, but when life handed out the hard stuff—like Ben’s death and Payne’s accident—he didn’t know how to reach out a hand. How to acknowledge what was in his heart.

  Was it too late for him to learn?

  “Why the hell is Payne so reckless?” Reed wondered aloud.

  “You don’t know—”

  “Oh. I know.” He pushed his hands through his hair. “We’re all so screwed up, right? Payne, me, Beck. The others, too. Our own worst enemies. Every one of us fighting demons.”

  She dared touching him now, laying her fingers on his shoulder. “You should go into the waiting room and sit with your tribe.”

  “Yeah.” He shrugged off her hand then stood. “There’s something I need to do.” When he stalked off, she followed after him until he came to a halt in front of Walsh.

  His brother looked up. “What?”

  “It’s time to find Beck.”

  “Hop tried, right? You and I both know he’ll turn up.”

  “In time for Payne’s funeral?”

  Cilla and Alexa gasped. Cami covered her mouth with her hand.

  “For God’s sake,” Ren ground out. “Really, Mary Sunshine?”

  Reed acted as if he hadn’t heard a thing. “You’ve got contacts in the Department of Defense, Walsh. Pull strings.”

  “This isn’t like NORAD tracking Santa on Christmas Eve,” Walsh said. “Sit down, Reed, and shut the hell up.”

  Tension was humming off of him. Cleo wrapped her hand around his elbow. “Come on. There’s a seat over here.”

  Again, he shook her off. “We have to face facts, people.”

  “Reed,” Cilla said. “Let’s keep it positive in here, okay?”

  “That’s not going to change a damn thing, Cilla.”

  “Hey.” Ren stood. “Don’t talk to her like that.”

  “Why not? Payne’s on death’s door and you know what…it opens! All of you forget that. So I think we should be prepared.” He turned to Cami. “Your brother might lose his life.”

  She jumped to her feet, her eyes flashing. “You’re a ghoul!” Rushing him, she shoved at his chest and he stumbled back. “And I don’t want you here.” When she shoved again, his stagger upset a chair that fell over with a thud. “Get out. Just get out.”

  His face was as furious as hers. “Happy to,” he said, then spun for the exit.

  Cleo glanced at the faces in the room, their upset clearly escalated. “He…”

  “We get it,” Ren said wearily. “Go after him, okay? We all just need to cool down.”

  She found him outside the hospital doors, the flat of one foot and his shoulders braced on the stucco wall. “Can I get you something?”

  “A scalpel? I’m thinking I should cut out my tongue.”

  “You’re distressed. Everyone’s distressed.”


  “Yeah.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Go home, Cleo.”

  “Reed—”

  “Remember what I said? Not good company.”

  “I don’t care about that.”

  “Fuck,” he muttered, eyes on the ground. “Didn’t you hear Cami? I’m a ghoul.”

  “Pish tosh,” she said, hoping the silly expression would shake him from his misery. He didn’t seem to hear.

  The ache in her chest was growing, pushing her heart toward her throat. She wanted to touch him so badly that she crossed her arms over her chest and tucked her fingers tight.

  “Reed,” she said, her voice hoarse. “Please. You don’t have to go through this alone.”

  He looked up now, his expression bleak, the blue of his eyes darker than usual, the color like a bruise. “Don’t you get it? That’s exactly how I like it.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Reed showed up on her doorstep after dark, a bag of Chinese take-out in his hands. One look at the set expression on his face, and Cleo’s knees weakened. She gripped the jamb. “Payne? Has he taken a turn for the worse? I had a text from Alexa that said the surgery went well.”

  “Nothing’s changed there.” He hesitated. “May I come in?”

  Was it wise? How many times should she offer up her heart as a punching bag? She sighed. At least once more, she supposed, and stood back. “Sure.”

  “Hungry?” He waved the bag.

  “Sure,” she said again, and led the way into the kitchen.

  He watched her pull plates from the cupboard.

  “Sleepover going okay?”

  “I checked in not long ago. Obie’s doing well.”

  “That’s great.” Reed crossed to the kitchen table, took a seat, and began unpacking the cartons from the bag. Then he glanced at her as she sat across from him. “I’m sorry about that scene at the hospital.”

  “Reed—”

  “Cami still wants to strangle me, though her mood’s improved now that we know Payne’s going to get through this.”

  “It’s been a hard day.”

  “Knocked me for a loop,” Reed said. He pushed the cartons in her direction. “I…I’m not thinking very clearly.”

  Cleo began dishing food onto the plates, unable to smother the hope sparking inside her. Maybe now was the opportunity to get through to him. Perhaps, with his defenses battered, he would open up to her and share his feelings about Payne’s accident. Reed might even be able to admit he cared about her.