“No. That was my first name before I legally changed it when I was eleven.”
“So Reagan is, I mean was, your middle name?”
“Nope. I didn’t have a middle name. When I was eight my mom met and married Hal, who was Harold Reagan York. And when I was ten, he adopted me and I legally changed my name. I chose to take his middle and last name.”
I still didn’t feel like I was getting the full story. “What was your name before you changed it?”
Her lips pursed and she inhaled through her nose before closing her eyes and sighing, “Fancy Cox.”
“Your last name was Cox?”
She nodded.
“Holy shit.” I’d always been so embarrassed about my middle name, but now I realized it hadn’t been that bad. I held my hands up in surrender. “Okay, I give. You’re right, I was lucky.”
“See.” She pointed at me. “I told you! I didn’t have an initial to use. It was awful.”
Unable to stop myself, I pulled her into a hug, wrapping my arms around her tiny frame. She melted into me and my heart swelled with an emotion I wasn’t sure I was ready for. I felt so close to, so connected with, the woman in my arms. I wasn’t sure if it was because we’d both revealed such personal things to one another or if it was because we were standing in the attic of my childhood home, or if it was a little bit of both.
It’s intimacy, you idiot, I heard a voice that sounded a lot like Hank’s say in my head.
Intimacy.
Love.
Those were words I never imagined I’d be thinking, much less feeling.
“No one knows that.” She mumbled against my chest. “Not even Nadia.”
“It’s okay.” I kissed her on the top of the head. “Your secret’s safe with me, Fancy Cox.”
She pulled out of my arms and pushed my chest, her jaw dropped pretending to be offended. “Thanks, Sunshine.”
I smacked her on her backside playfully. “Back to work.”
“Oooo…look at you. All business. I like it.”
She settled back down at the box that she’d pulled my birth certificate out of. I turned to go back to my corner, but only made it two steps.
“Is this you?”
I glanced over my shoulder and saw Reagan holding up an old Polaroid picture of a toddler in a fireman’s hat and black boots that were too big and diapers.
“I’m not sure.” I took the photo out of her hand and flipped it over and saw that written on the back was Hank age 3. I chuckled. “Nope this is Hank.”
I doubted my brother knew that this was up here. If he did, he most likely would have destroyed it.
My mind was busy plotting how I could get the most mileage to embarrass Hank when Reagan breathed, “Wow. Is this your mom? She’s stunning.”
I looked down and a large knot formed in my throat and I nodded as she handed it to me. The picture was of my mom sitting on the rocks out by the pond in the back. Her long blonde hair was blowing in the wind as her head tilted back in laughter. She was wearing a bright blue tube top and shorts. She looked like an angel.
It had been so long since I’d seen pictures of her that I realized I must’ve blocked out the details of her face. I’d forgotten the dent that she had in her chin, and the light spattering of freckles across her nose. I’d forgotten the way her large blue eyes disappeared when she laughed.
“Cheyenne looks exactly like her,” Reagan said with awe.
She did.
Cheyenne was the spitting image of our mother.
Reagan lifted another picture out of the box, this was one of my mom in the kitchen cooking. Her hair was pulled up in a ponytail and she was stirring a large pot with a wooden spoon. Memories flooded back to me of sitting beside her on a stool at the counter and taste testing her soup, or sauce. Country music playing from the radio. Her scooping me up and dancing with me.
I sniffed, doing my best to hold back the emotions clogging my throat. “Are there more in there?”
“Yeah, there are a ton. And some papers, too.” She began to lift more contents from the box but I knew I wasn’t ready to go down memory lane.
“I’ll look at them later.” I tucked the two photos I had in my pocket, not wanting to let go of them just yet.
“Oh…” She nodded, her eyes brimming with understanding. “Okay.”
A heaviness settled over me as I returned to my spot, but I did my best to ignore it. Thankfully, I’d had years of practice not feeling things, so I easily slipped back into the rhythm of distraction.
After we’d gone through about ten thousand boxes apiece (just a rough estimation), I came across a small cardboard box labeled: Personal. My heart rate sped as I used my box cutter to slice through the tape. When I pulled back the first flap I saw a small leatherbound book sitting on top of a pile of other books. “I think I found something.”
I heard Reagan’s footsteps as she rushed across to me. “Is that it? Is that your mother’s journal?” she asked hopefully, looking over my shoulder.
“I think so.” When I lifted it out, and held it in my hands I felt a deep hollowness and vulnerability. I hadn’t thought this would be a big deal. But apparently, I’d underestimated what emotions all these memories would unearth.
My fingers felt thick and awkward as I slid the elastic band off and opened the cover. On the title page the name “Sabrina Ariel Comfort” was written in cursive. Underneath that was a date roughly eight months before her death, followed by a dash to indicate “through”…but there was no ending date on the paper.
I hurriedly flipped to the last entry. When I saw the date at the top of the page, my skin tingled and my stomach did a flip.
It was the date of the accident. The date that Mama had died. The realization washed over me like ice water. The words I was looking at right then—she had penned them on the morning of her death, not knowing that mere hours later she would be plunging over a guardrail, her car tumbling down hundreds of feet, and leaving us all behind.
“Are you okay?” I felt Reagan’s hand on my shoulder.
I closed the journal, not ready to face what was inside of there. I needed to do that on my own time, alone.
“Aren’t you going to read it?”
“Later. Finding them was enough for today. Reading them will be for another day.” I stood and grabbed the box.
I needed to get out of here.
“Why don’t you grab that box you had? With the pictures and papers.” My voice sounded thin and raw with emotion. “We can take it with us.”
The next thing I knew, Reagan’s arms were around my waist and I felt her chest and cheek pressing against my back. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
In that moment, I could feel her support, her empathy, her love.
Or maybe I was just projecting what I wanted to feel. I didn’t have a chance to find out because before I could respond I heard a voice.
“Billy, get the fuck out of my attic.”
I felt Reagan’s entire body freeze.
I just smiled, relieved for the interruption from the soap opera level of emotions this excursion had put me through. “Looks like Hank came home early.”
CHAPTER 40
Reagan
“I’m headed out for lunch.” I waved to Daisy, who was standing at the printer, on my way out the door of the office.
Her only acknowledgement was a clipped nod. I wasn’t sure what I’d done to rub her the wrong way, but over the past few days, things had been like the North Pole in reception. Very icy. She only spoke to me when absolutely necessary, and even then it was clear that it was painful for her.
Hmm. Maybe I’d pick her up a dessert to smooth over whatever wrong I’d done. In my experience, chocolate anything went a long way to cover a multitude of sins.
The sun was shining brightly as I stepped outside. I flinched before grabbing my sunglasses out of my bag and putting them on. As I made my way downtown, the rays beat down on my arms and neck. The warmth reminded me of yesterday�
��s afternoon delight beneath the midday sun. I wondered if, for the rest of my life, every sunny day would bring back the memory of the most perfect afternoon I’d ever had.
Deep down I knew the answer was yes, not that it mattered. It didn’t take the sun for me to be reminded of Billy Comfort. I couldn’t seem to escape the man that had wormed his way into my mind, body…and I feared, heart.
He’d consumed my thoughts all day. I’d been going crazy sitting at my desk so when Nadia’d invited me to lunch, I jumped at the chance in hopes it would distract me. The streets were still crowded, but not as crazy as they’d been over the weekend. I did my best to people watch as I made the short walk to the restaurant where I was meeting Nadia, but inevitably, everything I saw reminded me of the man I was doing my best to forget.
I was momentarily distracted when I got that same feeling I’d had since moving down here—that someone was watching me. I looked around, but no one seemed to be paying me any attention.
Then, it was back to the regularly scheduled Billy Comfort programming. A red truck drove by and for a split second I thought it might be his. It wasn’t. A block later, a mom was calling after her son, who—you guessed it—was named Billy. Before I’d even made it to the corner, I passed Comfort Construction, the business owned and operated by Billy’s older brother Hank.
I could not escape the man! And even though it had been less than twenty-four hours since I’d seen him, I missed him. He’d texted me this morning while I was in court filing the brief for the Sanders case—the one I’d been working on over the weekend. My first impulse had been to message him back, but I stopped myself. I would text him when I was done with work for the day and not a minute before. If I didn’t put up some hard boundaries, I didn’t trust myself not to let him bleed into every area of my life.
After Hank’d caught us up in his attic, Billy tried to convince me to go back to his place, but I’d declined. Things between us were crossing all sorts of lines. As much as I’d have loved to spend the night tangled up in sheets with Billy, I knew that things were getting dangerously blurred.
Our friend(with benefits)ship was really confusing. I could honestly say that I felt closer to a man I’d known for a week than I ever had to the man I’d been engaged to and spent eight years of my life with. I kept having to remind myself that the man I was falling for was not the settle-down type. Not that I was looking to settle down. I wasn’t.
But, even if I were, Billy Panty Dropper Comfort wouldn’t exactly be a qualified candidate.
“Reagan!”
I heard my name and looked over my shoulder to see Nadia waving from a table behind a wrought iron fence.
Shit. I’d been so lost in Billy thoughts I’d almost passed right by the restaurant.
I doubled back and walked through the gate. The entrance led to an outdoor patio, complete with a pergola and Edison bulb lights strung above the tables. I joined my friend at the end of a farm-style table. “Hey chickadee, so good to see you. This was exactly what I needed.” I gave Nadia a big hug before taking a seat across from her.
“Of course! I’ll admit my motives were a little selfish. I wanted to debrief because I went out with Rusty last night.” Her hundred-watt smile told me things had gone well.
Now if I could only remember who she was talking about. “Rusty?”
“I met him at the crab feed. He was that cowboy that asked me to dance. I figured you might remember him because it was before you slammed two glasses of moonshine.”
“Oh, right! I do remember him. It’s pretty much the only thing I remember. So I’m guessing it went well.”
“Hell yeah, it did. We went to the beach because he wanted to see the fireflies and let’s just say that they weren’t the only things lighting up the night.”
“Fireworks, huh?”
“Girl, you have no idea.” A sly smile spread on her face. “Or, maybe you do.”
I did, not that I wanted to share that with her. Thankfully, I didn’t have to.
“Welcome to Granny’s Pantry.” The kid’s voice cracked as he approached our table. He wore a blue polo shirt with the restaurant logo on the chest that hung on his skinny frame like he was a hanger. And his khaki pants looked three sizes too big for him. “Hi Ms. Olsen. Have you had a chance to look at the menu?”
“Timmy Grimes, what are you doin’? You are not old enough to be workin’ here.” Nadia voiced the same thoughts I was having.
“I’m filling in for Jacob.”
“Ahh, is your brother enjoying spring break a little too much?”
“It’s his senior year,” Timmy replied as if that was a perfectly reasonable explanation.
Things really did operate differently in Firefly. Pigs and birds were allowed in bars. Underage youth were allowed to fill in for their older siblings when they partied too hard. It was like the Wild West down here.
“Timmy this is my best friend from college, Reagan York. Reagan, this is Timmy. He was in my class two years ago. He is a math beast and a national speech and debate winner.”
The kid’s entire demeanor changed under Nadia’s praise. He stood taller and his chest puffed out. “I hated school before I was in your class Ms. Olsen.”
“That’s because you were bored. You weren’t being challenged.”
It warmed my heart to see her doing what she’d talked about during college. Making a difference.
“Nice to meet you, Timmy.”
“You too, ma’am.” He lifted the pad and paper in his hand. “Are you ready to order?”
“Um…” The menu was a tri-fold and looked intimidating.
“I think we need a minute.” Nadia said.
“Can I get you started with something to drink?”
“I’d like a water with lemon.” I opened the first flap.
“And I’ll have a diet pop.”
“Comin’ right up.”
I looked at the menu. “Wow. This is…”
Nadia groaned. “I know, I know. Granny’s Pantry is my favorite celebration or comfort food guilty pleasure. I normally never come here on a weekday. The afternoon slump is intense and unfightable.”
I flipped to the back of the gigantic menu. “I feel like roughly half the names of the items on this menu start with the words ‘Chicken Fried.’”
“You’re not wrong.”
I leaned forward, lowering my voice to a whisper. “Also, am I the only one whose brain reads ‘Granny Panties’ every time I look at the logo at the top of the menu?”
Granny Panties. My afternoon with Billy had forever changed my negative connotation of them. Just one more way that Billy Comfort had imprinted himself.
Nadia burst out laughing. “Well, you won’t be in the future, I can promise you that. In fact, I imagine that’s about all I’ll be able to see.”
My eyes still on the menu, I asked, “So, is this a celebration?”
“What?”
“The lunch. Is it a celebration because of your date with Rusty?”
“Oh… Um…”
I sensed her hesitation and looked up to see the same face she had when she broke the news to me that she wasn’t going to room with me senior year because she was moving in with her boyfriend, Rex. “Or is this a third thing? Like…a ‘making an uncomfortable conversation go down easier’ kind of thing?”
She smiled. “It’s not that dramatic, but yeah, I’d go with that one.”
I returned my gaze to the menu. “Okay, well, this is certainly going to require a chicken fried something or other to get through. Let’s see…”
“They have deep fried desserts, too,” she chirped.
“Good to know.” I filed that in my brain as a to-go peace offering for Daisy.
Timmy came back with our drinks, we gave him our orders and handed over our menus.
I smiled across the table at Nadia. “All right. Let’s hear it.”
Nadia groaned and dropped her head into her hands. “Crap, Reagan. This isn’t going at all like I p
lanned.”
I reached across the table and laid a hand on her forearm. “I’m just messing with you, hon. Seriously. Go ahead and tell me what you brought me here to say.”
She shook her head. “Honestly, that makes it sound so much more well-planned than it is. This isn’t some kind of intervention. I just wanted to give you a heads up that people are flappin’ their gums.”
My eyebrows shot up. “Seriously?”
She nodded. “Yeah. Which, if you remember, I warned you would happen if you decided to take up with Billy.”
I had to laugh. Not because it was funny, though. At all. “You heard I’m takin’ up with Billy?”
She gave me her patented “what do you think?” face.
“I wouldn’t call it ‘takin’ up.’ Not that I even know what that means. We’re friends.” With clauses. “Even if it was more, whose business is it? We’re consenting adults. Why would anyone care?”
She breathed out, eyes widening in exasperation. “Because, Reagan. Firefly is a small town. People care about what everybody does in a small town. Especially the consenting adults. Not only that, but you’re doing whatever it is you’re doing with Billy Comfort. He’s a legend around here. People are gonna care about that. And talk about it. It’s just the way it is. People already have bets on whether or not you’re the girl that he’ll risk the curse for.”
The curse. Did people actually believe in that? Did Billy? Since we hadn’t talked about it, I had no idea.
“Apparently the L word has been thrown around.” She sipped her diet Coke.
“The L word?” I didn’t think she was talking about the HBO show, but I needed to make sure.
“Love.”
“Love?! Who said anything about love?” I’d dreamt that he’d told me he loved me, but I hadn’t told anyone that.
“Pete Wilson heard it from Jimmy, or Hank, I’m not sure. Then Lacy Hanson, who has been crushing on Billy since grade school, asked Cash if Billy was off the market and he nodded.”
Off the market? Love? We had a friends-with-clauses arrangement.
Oh, shit. A small niggle of panic tangled in my gut. If everyone in town was talking about this, chances were Mr. Abernathy had caught wind of it. What did that mean for my career? My future?
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