by Krista Holt
I know I’m being less than helpful right now. But the lack of sleep combined with the nightmare, and now Garrett stumbling onto the last secret I have from Reagan, makes me want to stab something.
I should have told her. There was a thousand times in our first year together when I almost did. But he had warned me it wasn’t my story to share, cautioned me that he had left Reagan and her mother for a perfectly valid reason, all before reminding me that telling her would only hurt her more.
The secret weighs on me though, more than anything else I have ever kept from her. Because I know she thinks her father left not loving her, not wanting her, and that’s not true. He wouldn’t have tried to warn me away if he didn’t care about her, even a little.
“Why are you asking me about Reagan’s father?” I swallow more of the bitter coffee.
“After she told Tommy he was a government contractor, I spent last night digging through his so-called records, and you know what I found? Nothing. It’s all a pile of smoke and mirrors. A stack of fakes on expensive paper.”
I groan, holding my head in my hand. “Can we not with the riddles today? My head already hurts.”
“He’s a spy.”
My head snaps up so quickly my neck pops. “What?”
“All his records lead back to shell companies the CIA has set up. As in, they don’t exist. I’d be willing to bet my paycheck that his disappearing act is somehow related to his job. But the question I still haven’t answered is, why haven’t you told her he’s still around?”
“It’s not my place.”
Disappointment colors his features. “You don’t even believe that.”
“He told me not to,” I argue.
“That girl believes in you. She put her life on hold to be here, to support you. It’s wrong that you’re keeping something like this from her. If she doesn’t want anything to do with her father, that’s her choice. But by keeping this from her, the only wrong person in this situation is you.”
I stare at him, face hard. He’s not telling me anything I haven’t said to myself a million times over. I know I shouldn’t be keeping this from her. She’s going to be hurt when she finds out. And I hate her father for making me a part of this, a part of hurting her. Again.
“I know, Garrett. Believe me, I know.”
“Then tell her.”
“When the time is right, I will.”
“Well, the time better arrive somewhere in the next twenty-four hours, or I’m going to tell her how to find him myself. She deserves to know the truth.”
I rush to my feet, throwing my half-empty cup of coffee at the wall. The liquid splashes against it and the crumpled paper falls to the floor.
“Stay out of this, Garrett. I swear, if you involve yourself in this, I will—”
“You’ll what? Threaten a federal agent? The one who’s keeping you alive?”
My anger cools slightly, but my jaw clenches so tight my teeth ache from the added pressure. “This is between me and her.”
“No, this is between her and her father. You’re the one standing in the way.”
I run an agitated hand through my hair, staring at the floor. “She’s going to lose her mind.”
“You know it’s the right thing to do, Nic. She deserves the truth.”
He cuts his hand through the air, preventing me from replying, and holds his finger to his ear, listening as someone squawks through the comms piece.
“The prosecution is ready for you. So forget about this conversation for now and get your head together. Remember, this is about putting your father in prison for a very long time. You need to be focused.”
“I am.”
CHAPTER 32
Reagan
THE SECOND DAY OF THE trial drags on longer than the first.
Tommy is abnormally silent compared to yesterday. He’ll hardly carry on a conversation with me, let alone look at me. And I can’t help but wonder if Nic said something to him, warned him to stay away from me. Or maybe, he’s just as tired and stressed as we all are.
I couldn’t fall back sleep after Nic’s nightmare, and I don’t think he did either. We were both wide-awake when the alarm went off this morning.
He wouldn’t talk about the dream, but I imagine it was pretty horrific to set him off like it did. He’s normally so contained, it almost worries me more to see him act as human as everyone else.
When I ask, Tommy gives me my phones again. I return emails, take a nap, and make it through the first half of one of the books Tommy gave me before they’re finished with Nic for the day.
When he and Garrett climb into the SUV, tension fills the enclosed space. They aren’t talking to one another, and they aren’t saying anything to me.
Frowning, I look at Nic, and then Garrett. “Is everything okay?”
“Fine,” they both answer, tones clipped.
Nic leans over and quickly kisses the top of my head before taking my hand in his. For the remainder of the drive, he doesn’t let go. My palm is sweaty as we slide out of the car at the hotel and there’s something unnerving about the way he’s intentionally keeping me away from Garrett.
When he looks my way in the elevator, Nic squeezes my hand even harder. It’s obvious Nic wants me to stay out of whatever is going on between the two of them. Which, naturally, only increases my desire to know more.
“Garrett, is everything okay?”
His gaze jumps to Nic, and then to me. “It’s fine. Or it will be.”
“Then, why do I get the feeling there’s something you guys aren’t telling me?”
“I’m sorry.” He exits the elevator first, pointing us down the hallway to our new rooms. “I have some things I need to take care of. Is there anything I can get you before I go?”
“Uh,” I stutter, caught off guard by his blunt redirect. “Is there any chance we can get a pizza for dinner?”
He smiles tightly. “Sure, no problem. Anything else?”
“Wine?”
“I’ll see what I can do.” He glares at Nic one more time. “There’ll be an agent out in the hallway if you need it, Reagan.”
And then he’s gone. Tommy leans against the wall, gesturing for us to go inside. Nic quickly unlocks the door and pulls me in after with him.
“Okay, enough,” I yank my hand free. “What is going on?”
“Nothing.”
“Do not lie to me!”
Nic stops short, and then slowly turns around. So many emotions flick in his eyes. Guilt. Anger. Frustration. All of them scare me, because I know there’s something else he’s keeping from me.
“No more secrets, Nic. I can’t do it. If we can’t trust each other, there’s no point in me even staying here.”
“It wasn’t my place to tell you.”
“To tell me what?”
He pauses, and the air grows thick between us, keeping us apart.
“I want you to know, before I say anything else,” he pleads, “I didn’t want any part of keeping this from you. He asked me to and I wasn’t in a position to argue.”
“Who are you talking about?”
“Your father.”
I laugh, shocked and confused at the same time. “I don’t have a father. He left us.”
“He did leave you, but I think he had a reason.”
“I don’t understand. Are you saying you’ve talked to him?” I rub my forehead, trying to make sense out of what he just said.
“He surprised me one night.”
“When?” I glare at him.
“Not long after we started seeing each other.”
“What?” My mouth parts slightly. “How could you keep this from me?”
“He didn’t want me to tell you. He said there was a reason—”
“I don’t care,” I cut him off. “I don’t care if he asked you to never tell me, you owed me your loyalty. Not him!”
“I know.”
“You know? You know.” I laugh bitterly, brushing some hair out of my face as I s
tart to pace. “Why does this keep happening? Why are we stuck in this never-ending circle? You’re lying, I’m lying. Neither one of us can tell the truth. Why is this so hard?”
My brain feels like it’s been rattled. Shaken up. I make one more loop around the small room, still talking out loud. “And what does this have to do with Garrett? Why did you decide to tell me now?”
His gaze drops briefly to the floor. “You talked to Tommy yesterday. Garrett started looking into it and found out from there.”
Glaring at him, I force back the tears slowly filling my eyes, too angry to cry right now. “So, what you’re saying is, Garrett’s responsible for telling me the truth. He forced your hand.” I cross my arms over my chest, trying to hide how hurt I am. “Were you ever going to tell me?”
“I had hoped your father would eventually make himself known, and tell you himself.”
“He’s not a father! He’s just some guy my mom was married to. You don’t get to abandon people and then call yourself a father. It doesn’t work like that. But what I can’t get over is that you kept this from me. How am I ever supposed to trust you?”
“Reagan, I’m not the one you should be mad at.”
“No! You’re exactly the one I should be mad at, because if I can’t trust you, we have nothing. Nothing. It’s just hormones and bad decisions.”
His lips flatten into a harsh line. “That’s not true. We’re more than that. I love you.”
“Is this what love is? Continually hurting the person you claim to love? Because if it is, I don’t want it.” I wipe at my eyes, stiffening my back.
My mind races, trying to understand this, trying to understand, why, of all people, my father would reach out to Nic.
“What did he say to you?”
“Your father?”
“He’s not my father!”
“Fine.” He throws his hands up. “Are you asking what Ethan told me?”
My stomach turns at the name I’ve only heard come from my mother’s mouth, when she was telling me stories of the man responsible for half of my DNA. It feels wrong, hearing it come from Nic. Just like it feels wrong to know Nic has seen him, talked to him, and all I’ve gotten is silence.
“Yes, what did Ethan Cooper have to say to you? Did he explain what a coward he is? Or did he justify leaving my mother with a child to raise, forcing her to work two jobs to provide for us? Huh? Please, enlighten me as to how tragic that man’s life is. Because he’s the one I have sympathy for, really, it must have been so hard for him.”
He stands there for a moment, stunned. “I didn’t know you felt this way. In the past, every time you talked about him, you sounded like you missed him, like you wanted to know where he was and what he was doing.”
“Because I was opening up to you, and because you weren’t the one who deserved my anger. I never expected you’d use it against me, or use my emotions as a justification to hide this from me. I hate him. I don’t care what he asked you to do, you owed me the truth.”
“I am sorry,” he says roughly.
“What did he say to you?” I ask again, unable to swallow his apology yet.
“He wanted me to break up with you, to leave you alone. He knew what I was, and he didn’t think I was good enough for you.”
“And?”
“I told him I wasn’t going to do it,” Nic says. “I explained that I wanted out of my family’s business, and that I wanted a future with you.”
“You told him before you told me?”
“In all fairness, he had a gun on me.”
“What? Why?”
“Do you want to sit down?”
“No, just tell me.”
His hand covers his mouth and then drags down his jaw, and then his neck, frustration holding his shoulders taut.
“After your talk with Tommy, Garrett started digging into government contractor records or whatever, and he thinks your father might be a spy. Or he works for the CIA, something like that.”
“That’s insane. That’s a good story, but it’s insane. My mother would have known, she would have said something. No, that’s…crazy. Not possible.”
He shrugs, putting his hands in his pockets. “Do you want to talk to Garrett about it? He said something about records, and shell companies, and other stuff that makes it sound plausible.”
“Yes, I want to talk to Garrett.” I march toward the door, pulling it open, only to find him waiting on the other side.
“He’s a spy?”
Garrett’s gaze jumps between the two of us. “Do you mind if we do this in the room?”
I step back, holding the door open for him. “You realize how insane this sounds, right? Are you sure it’s not some other Ethan Cooper you’ve found?”
“I know it’s hard to believe,” he says gently, pulling something up on his phone. He tilts the screen to me, showing me a picture. “But do you recognize him?”
The face is identical to the sparse pictures my mother kept around the house. A man I don’t remember very well. Just glimpses, bits and pieces mixed with my childhood memories.
“It’s him,” I say softly, holding a hand to my head, dazed. Everything I thought was real suddenly isn’t.
“I need some air.” I hurry to the sliding glass door that leads to a small patio. I throw it open and rush to the railing, gulping in the cold air.
“She can’t be out there, it’s a safety risk,” Garrett calls from inside. “You can’t go out there either! Nic, come on!”
Nic gently touches my arm. “Sweetheart, you need to come back inside.”
I shirk away from him, gripping the railing. “I feel like my whole life was a lie.”
“I know, but we’ll figure it out.” He tucks some hair behind my ear, pushing it off my shoulder. “Right now though, you need to get back inside.”
Strong hands guide me back through the door. Then he lets me go, watching me resume pacing.
I’m torn. Torn between yelling at him and crying. Torn between begging him to hold me and not wanting to be touched. I don’t understand why Nic would hide this from me. This wasn’t his secret. This wasn’t about him at all. This was about me, about my life. He should have told me. He should have wanted to tell me.
I hear them talking to each other, and then the quiet click of the door closing behind Garrett, but I don’t look up from the floor. Back and forth, I slowly wear a path into the hotel carpet.
“I get that you’re mad at me.” Nic says softly, his voice closer than he was a second ago. “But this doesn’t change anything. Talk to me, please.”
I brush some hair out of my face, turning away from him. “I don’t even know what to say to you right now.”
He moves in closer, but doesn’t touch me. Which is fine, because I’m too upset. I need some time, and some space. I think.
“I should have told you.”
“Yes, you should have. But you didn’t and I think you’re only sorry because I found out.” I reach for my suitcase and pull out some clean clothes.
“I was stuck in the middle, Reagan. Believe me, I didn’t want to keep this from you.”
“But you did!” I grab a few more things and then hurry to the bathroom, hoping for a refuge. Or at least an hour to myself.
He reaches for my hand, trying to stop me, but I pull away. Slamming the door, I sink to the bathroom floor and hold my head in my hands.
“I screwed up, sweetheart. It won’t happen again.” The words are heavy and sad as they flow through the wooden door.
I shake my head, even though he can’t see me, unable to answer as I wipe at a few tears.
“Come on. Talk to me.” He knocks gently. “Open the door.”
I ignore him, but the door creaks open a few seconds later. Nic’s shoes appear on the floor, followed by his legs as he squats down to my level.
“What do you want me to do?”
I blink back the moisture in my eyes, refusing to look at him.
“Hey.” A firm hand lifts m
y chin, bringing my eyes to his. “I’m sorry.”
“Nic…” I wipe at my cheeks, drying my hands on my jeans.
“Say you forgive me.”
“It’s not that simple.”
His dark eyes search mine. “You can be mad at me now, but say you’ll forgive me. Eventually.”
I stare at him.
“Please,” he pleads, “I need to know.”
“Fine.” I sigh. “I will, eventually, forgive you.”
“Okay.”
“But not tonight.”
CHAPTER 33
Nic
TWO MORE DAYS COME AND go.
Reagan still isn’t talking to me more than required. One-word answers when she needs to respond. Other than that, she’s all quiet stares and shrugs.
The nights are the hardest. She stays on her side of the bed, far away from me. I ache from her absence, from the comfort only she can provide. And it’s starting to spill over into my days.
Like yesterday, when the prosecuting attorney was grilling me, trying to get the answers I should have provided on her first try. I was distracted and tired. Tired of this, tired of hearing myself talk. Tired of discussing every horrible thing my father has done.
The monotony of it all has almost made me forget about the risk. We get up, we eat, we go to the courthouse. I regurgitate information for the court, we leave, and Reagan ignores me. I let her, because I know I deserve it. Even though I need more from her, even though I need her not to be mad at me, I’m content with her punishment, because she’s still here. And I’ll take whatever scrap of attention she’s willing to give.
Like now, as her blue eyes peer over the top of her book and catch me watching her, the tightness in my chest starts to lift.
“Are you okay?”
I arch my brow, giving her a look. “Have you forgiven me yet?”
“I’m working on it.”
“Then I’ll be fine.”
She sighs heavily, setting the book down. “What happens today? At the trial?”
“The prosecution finished with me yesterday, so the defense gets first crack at me today.”
“It’s almost over?”
“I hope so.”
