Capturing Peace

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Capturing Peace Page 2

by Molly McAdams


  “So you’re actually going to listen to her? This is bullshit.”

  “I know, Steele, but I have no choice. I need to be able to see my son. I’m already waiting on this realtor to go look at some places. I’ll call you when I have news, yeah?”

  “Yeah, all right. Sorry this is happening, man, I really am.”

  “Me too.” An exhausted sigh sounded through the phone. “Later.”

  I pressed END, and looked over at Hudson. “His bitch wife is making him buy them a house before she’ll let him meet their son.”

  “The fuck?” Hudson balked, and lowered himself into a chair. “Can she do that?”

  I shrugged and tossed my phone onto my dresser. “Apparently, because he’s meeting with a realtor.”

  Our friend, Brody Saco, had gotten out of the army not even a week ago. He’d been planning on making this a career, but all that had changed when his girl from back home wound up pregnant. He’d married her immediately, and ever since then, she’d refused to see him or let him meet their son—­and it’d been a year since their wedding. I could respect him for taking responsibility, but we all felt bad for him because he’d blindly gone into a shit storm with her.

  “What are you doing this weekend?” Hudson asked me, and it was then I noticed his backpack sitting at his feet.

  “Got some shoots booked in the area. You heading home?”

  He nodded and drummed his hands on the arms of the chair. “Yeah, I missed my nephew’s birthday last weekend, I need to go see him and my sister.”

  “All right, I’ll see you when you get back.”

  “If you don’t feel like coming back to base between your shoots, hit me up, you can stay at my parents’ place or something.”

  I laughed and shook my head. “Nah, I’m good. Thanks though.”

  Hudson stood to leave, but stopped at the door, and a knowing look crossed his face. “Try to get some sleep.”

  “Uh . . . yeah. I’ll do that.”

  He and I both knew that wouldn’t be happening. I was lucky if I got two hours in a night. If I didn’t have photos I could edit during those long hours, I would go insane.

  Once he was gone, I made sure everything was charged, and packed up all my equipment before heading out to the studio I had in Denver. I had a few photo shoots set up for the night—­some with friends, and one with a new client. The shoots, along with the editing and wedding I was covering the next day, would keep me busy throughout the weekend. Busy was how I liked my life. How I preferred it. It kept me from remembering things I wished I’d never seen.

  TWO WEEKS LATER, I walked into the room I’d been sharing with Hudson since Saco had gotten out, and stood there staring at everything for a few minutes. Today was bittersweet. It was a day I’d been waiting on for months now, and at the same time, a day I couldn’t have prepared for.

  I’d been in the army for almost six years, and like Saco, I’d been prepared to make this a career. But with my photography business taking off and demanding more of my time, I’d had to make a decision. The army was all I’d known since I turned eighteen, but in the last year I’d started realizing that photography was more than a hobby; it was my passion.

  I thought I wouldn’t be getting out for another month or so, but I’d gotten the call this morning and had spent the next handful of hours in an office waiting, and then signing the papers signifying my official retirement. Typical “Hurry up and wait,” and then, “Surprise, fucker!” bullshit from the military. Like I should have expected anything else.

  Halfway through throwing everything in my bags and moving my camera equipment out to my car, Hudson came back.

  “Man, with you and Saco gone, it’s gonna be boring as shit until I get out of here too.”

  “Aww, you’re gonna miss me? Touched, bro, really am. But I told you, I don’t swing that way,” I joked with him as I grabbed more of my stuff.

  “Fuck off, Steele. You know what I meant. Whatever, though, I’ll be out of here soon.”

  “Are you going to get a place with your girl?”

  Hudson fell onto his bed and stretched out. “Probably, it’d just be easier that way. But I don’t know if she really wants to move all the way up to Denver. I mean, I know its not far, but she has a job here, and I need to be close to my sister.”

  Out of all the things we’d talked about through the years, his sister wasn’t one of them. All I knew was if he wasn’t sticking around base on the weekends so he could see his girlfriend, he was going home so he could be near his sister and her son. “I’ve never asked because I figured you’d tell me if you wanted me to know. But what is it with your sister that always has you going home?”

  He thought for a few minutes before responding. “Reagan just needs me. She’d never admit that, she’s independent and stubborn as shit; but she needs me. We’ve always been close, but she got pregnant when she was sixteen and her asshole boyfriend told her to have an abortion or he was leaving her.”

  I snorted. “Dick.”

  “Yeah. Obviously he’s not around anymore; but all her friends ditched her, and she only had our parents and me on her side after that. She’s done well for herself and is an awesome mom, but she thinks she has to do this all alone. Like I said, stubborn and independent. The only guys around her son are my dad and me, and he’s six now. He needs male role models in his life, you know?”

  “Understand. That sucks for her, though.”

  My mom had had me when she was a teenager as well, but had given me up for adoption as soon as I’d been born. I’d never resented her, because I grew up in a great family . . . and obviously she couldn’t have given me that. That didn’t stop me from wondering why she hadn’t tried. So I was already impressed by Reagan’s drive, and I’d never even met her.

  “That it does.” Hudson’s voice interrupted my thoughts. “So, are you moving back home?”

  “Ahh, nah. I don’t think so. I miss them and all, but I’d miss my studio. I have a lot of clients here who I can keep using, and I’d miss the location. Colorado is a lot nicer to look at and shoot in than where I grew up.”

  Hudson laughed. “I bet. Well, where are you gonna stay? I know you weren’t expecting to get out today.”

  “I’ll just crash in my studio until I find a place, no big deal.”

  “You sure? I can call one of my buddies.”

  “Appreciate it, man, but for what? So I can not sleep on their couch? I have couches in the studio if I need to pass out.”

  He looked at me for a few moments before saying, “You should really talk to someone. They could help.”

  I knew he was looking out for me, but I hated when ­people said shit like that. I didn’t need help. “I have nothing to say to anyone, there’s no point.”

  Sensing my unease with the conversation, Hudson held up his hands like he was surrendering and changed the subject. “Well, your studio is close to where my family is and where I’ll be looking for a place when I get out. So let’s grab some beers when you’re not busy, all right? Actually, I’m heading home this weekend. Want to go out and celebrate your civilian status tonight?”

  “Civilian,” I huffed, and shook my head. “Fuck, this is gonna be weird. I don’t know if I remember how to be a civilian.”

  “It’ll be easier than you think, I’m sure.”

  I somehow doubted that. Grabbing the last of my bags, I looked over at him and nodded. “Yeah, let’s go out tonight. Call me when you head into the city, I’m gonna take everything to the studio and look at the places around there for a few hours.”

  “Will do, see you later.”

  With one last look at the room, I turned and headed out of the barracks to start my new civilian life. Jesus Christ, that was going to take some getting used to.

  Reagan—­August 13, 2010

  I FINISHED PAYING for my coffee and sh
oved everything back in my wallet as I answered my phone.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, Ray.”

  Huffing as I jammed my wallet into my purse and tried to get out of the way for the next person waiting to order, I put my phone between my shoulder and my cheek, and sighed. “Hey, big brother.”

  “You okay?” he asked on a laugh.

  “Fine. Today was just the longest day ever, and I barely slept last night, so I feel like I’m about to lose my shit. I’m getting coffee before I go get Parker from Mom.”

  His next laugh was louder, fuller. “Sounds like you need a beer, not coffee.”

  “Wouldn’t that be nice?” I mused.

  “I’m coming home tonight and hitting up a bar with my roommate. He’s officially retired as of today, so we’re celebrating. Come out with us.”

  “Thanks, but no. I just want to get Parker and go home.”

  Keegan sighed, and I mentally prepared myself for what was coming next. Swear to God, my entire family was like one giant broken record. “You need to go out and just relax. One night away from your son isn’t going to kill you. I know Mom and Dad will watch him.”

  “Of course they will, and they’d probably shove me out the door to hang out with you. But I don’t want a night away from him.”

  “Reagan, it’s just a few hours. Come hang out with us, have a good time, meet some ­people . . .”

  I gasped as I realized what he was hinting at. “Keegan Hudson, are you trying to set me up with your friends?”

  There was a long pause before he admitted, “Yeah, Ray, I am. He’s a good guy, I know you’d like him . . . and he’s moving close to you. It would be good for him to know someone there.”

  “Christ, not you too. I don’t want to meet anyone, why is that so hard for all of you to understand?”

  “Because—­”

  “This is so backwards! Shouldn’t you be keeping me from guys? Especially your soldier buddies?” I mouthed a thank-­you to the barista, and grabbed my iced latte as I turned to leave.

  “You know . . . it’s not a crime to date.”

  “I know that, Kee—­shit!” I gasped, and jumped back from the iced coffee, even though it was already covering most of my shirt.

  “What?” he yelled into the phone. “What happened?”

  “Oh my God,” the guy in front of me said. His face somewhat apologetic, somewhat amused. “I’m so sorry, are you okay?”

  “Reagan! What happened?”

  I pulled the shirt away from my body, and stood there in shock for a few seconds before my brain started functioning again. “Nothing, I just literally ran into a guy at Starbucks and am now covered in coffee.”

  “That shit actually happens?” Keegan laughed. “Only you, Ray, only you.”

  “I’m so sorry,” the guy said again. “Please, let me buy you a drink . . . and a new shirt. Shit, here let me get napkins.”

  Keegan was quiet for a few seconds before he asked, “Who is that with you?” His voice was laced with a curiosity I’d never heard from him.

  “I don’t know, I’ve never seen him before.”

  “Ask him his name.”

  “No, look, I need to go. I’m soaked and there’s coffee all over the ground. I’ll talk to you later.”

  He sighed. “Fine. Call me later, and think about coming out with us. Love you, sis.”

  “Love you too,” I said quietly, and dropped my phone into my already full purse to take the napkins from the guy’s hands. He looked like he couldn’t decide if he should try to clean me off, or if he should let me do that. So I made the decision for him.

  “What did you have? I’ll get you another.”

  I looked up at his face, and tried not to scoff at his amused expression. Watching him until he finally looked up from my damp shirt, I narrowed my eyes at him. “Don’t worry about it, this is probably a sign I shouldn’t have stopped for coffee.”

  I’d started bending down to clean up what had made it onto the floor, when he grabbed my arm. My body froze from its descent, and I stared at his full sleeve of black tattoos before slowly looking up at his dark eyes. They were almost black, and held mine captive until his lips moved again. The amusement was gone from his face and tone, his deep voice now gruff as he spoke. “I’ll get that, this was my fault.”

  “I turned into you, it’s mine.”

  “I shouldn’t have been standing right behind you.”

  We looked at each other in silence for a few seconds, before I snapped back to reality. Pulling my arm from his grasp, I took a step back from him and looked away from his intense stare. Clearing my throat, I hitched my purse higher up on my shoulder and searched for a trash can.

  “Can I please buy you another drink?”

  “No, it’s fine. Really.”

  He laughed awkwardly and looked around for a second. “I’m trying to make up for spilling your drink on you . . . and you’re making it really hard.”

  Squeezing my eyes shut, I took a deep breath in and out before turning back to him. I knew I was coming across as a bitch, but I hated asking for help, and didn’t like when ­people offered it. It’s not that I wasn’t grateful for ­people, it was just the idea of not being able to handle a situation by myself left me feeling like I was seconds from panicking.

  Offering him a forced smile, I tried to keep the strain out of my voice when I said, “I appreciate your attempt at reminding me that chivalry isn’t dead, but I really am fine.”

  Grabbing his drink off the counter, he offered it to me. “Then will you take mine?”

  My next smile wasn’t forced. “Thank you, but no.”

  “You’re really going to leave me standing here feeling like an asshole?” I might have felt bad if he wasn’t smirking at me.

  “I’m sure you’ll live. Have a good night,” I called over my shoulder as I walked past him.

  His hand grasped my elbow, and my breath came out in a soft huff. His hold wasn’t menacing, and even though it should bother me to have a stranger touching me, it didn’t. But I absolutely refused to think about why my skin felt like it was on fire where he was holding me.

  “Can I at least have your name?”

  My voice came out breathy, and I silently cursed myself and his dark, mesmerizing eyes. “And why would you want that?”

  “Excuse me, miss?”

  I looked over at the barista, but from the corner of my eye, I could see the man’s eyes still on me.

  The barista lifted up an iced latte before setting it down on the counter. “Saw what happened, this is on me.”

  “Thank you so much,” I whispered to her after I pulled away from his hand. I hope she understood just how grateful I was for this. Looking back at the guy, I unnecessarily showed him the new drink and shot him a smile. “Well, I guess that solves that. Thank you for everything anyway. Have a good weekend.”

  My smile fell and a short huff left me when I began walking away. What the hell was that, Reagan? I liked being in control of situations and my emotions, and the longer I stayed in his presence, the more I’d felt myself losing control of all of it.

  Reaching for the bar on the door, I felt a warm chest brush against my back at the same time a tattooed arm shot in front of me and pushed the door open.

  “So, how about that name?” he asked huskily, and a smile crossed my face as a shiver worked its way through my body.

  Turning to look up at him after we were outside, I shrugged and shook my head, but I still couldn’t contain the smile on my face. “What good would it do for you to know it?”

  “Humor me.”

  Biting down on my cheek, I raised one shoulder and started walking backward toward my car. “I’m just the girl covered in coffee. Good night.”

  I was also the girl who couldn’t get him out of my mind even hours later, wh
en I got in bed. His short dark hair, near black eyes, cocky smirk, and lean, toned body covered in tattoos were all I could see when I closed my eyes that night.

  Coen—­August 13, 2010

  “THERE HE IS,” Hudson’s voice boomed when I walked over to the table he was sitting at with his girlfriend and a few more ­people I’d never met before.

  I slapped his hand and ordered a beer before the waitress could step away. “Hey, man, sorry I’m late. I had to run back to the studio and change.”

  He shot me a knowing look, and I wanted to ask what it was for. “How’d apartment hunting go?”

  “It didn’t. Once I got to my studio, I set up my equipment and did some edits for a while. I went to grab a coffee on my way out, and ended up running into this girl.” Hudson’s eyebrow lifted and I rolled my eyes. “Not like that, I mean I ran into her. Made her spill her coffee all over both of us.”

  His lips twitched and he covered it by taking a long pull from his beer. “Is that so?” he asked after. “Did you catch her name?”

  “Uh . . . no. Wasn’t because I didn’t try though. Whatever, story of my life.”

  “Is she hot?”

  Hudson’s girlfriend, Erica, started laughing, and buried her face in Hudson’s shoulder to muffle it. I couldn’t understand why she hadn’t hit him. She hated when he would bring up other girls.

  Why the hell is he acting so weird? “Yeah . . . ? Yeah, she was. Am I missing something?”

  Erica snorted and laughed harder. Her shoulders were shaking, and her face turned bright red. “Nope,” Hudson said, but he was now full-­on grinning. “Maybe you’ll see her again.”

  “I doubt it, I’ve been going to that Starbucks since I got my studio years ago. Never seen her before.” I said each word slowly as I watched Erica fan at her face, and Hudson struggle to contain his smile. What the fuck did I miss? “If you don’t tell me what the hell is going on, I’m leaving.”

  The waitress put my beer in front of me, but I didn’t touch it as I waited for him to answer.

 

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