“After everything I’ve done for you, you’d throw me under the bus like that?” His voice is so loud that other caseworkers are now paying attention to us to see what’s going on.
“Spencer, you’re the father figure that I never had growing up. I adore you more than you can imagine. When Kennedy died, Don leaving me, and fighting in court for Jonathan, your support meant more to me than you’ll ever know. You made me the caseworker and parent that I am today. Where is that man who was all about saving the kids and not your own ass?” I look into his eyes trying to search for something that will give me the glimpse of what has happened to this man.
“It’s become a chore, and I lost my love for the kids. It stopped being about them and more about the politics.” He shoulders sag in defeat.
“Forget the damn politics! You aren’t helping anyone hiding behind the desk. Either fight with us or get out of our way.” I walk out of his office and slam his door. I don’t dare look back because all I hear is a loud bang. I walk into my office feeling a lot of pressure on me to do this right. Spencer needs the help to get his drive back. As I sit down at my desk, I pick up the picture of Kennedy, Jason, and me standing in front on the store with the SOLD sign in our hands. It was such an amazing time, but I’m afraid to let myself think about the store just sitting there. Days like today makes me wonder if I can suck it up and open Books a Latte and leave this all behind.
When we started the book store, we wanted to bring to that neighborhood a love of books and a place to belong. We bought the store while that area was still being developed, so we were the only business there. Kids would come in after school to work on their homework together, book clubs would meet once a week there. Kennedy was always testing new pastry ideas. I blink my eyes fast to stop the tears that threaten to fall. I can’t break right now. I put the picture down as I’m brought out of my reliving a wonderful time in my life with my cell phone ringing. My desk is covered in folders, papers, and boxes so I’m lifting everything I can, but when I feel a vibration on my ass, I grab my phone out of my back pocket.
“Hello, Reagan Cramer?”
“Um, hi.” The female on the other side of the phone sounds unsure that she has the right number.
“Is there something that I could help you with?”
“Sorry, I tried four other numbers, and this is the only working one. It just caught me by surprise. I’m standing outside Books a Latte. I was wondering if you’re open to discussing selling the place?”
“It’s not for sale.” I hang up the phone, feeling like the wind has been knocked out and my heart’s aching. I stand up to shut my door and turn off the lights, sliding down the wall as I start to shake and need somewhere to land. My heart is beating so fast and loud that it’s the only noise in my ears. I don’t know how or when I ended up lying on the floor in the fetal position sleeping, but I wake up to Spencer.
“Reagan, what happened?” The concern in his voice and sympathy in his eyes break me into sobs all over again as I tell him about someone wanting to buy Books a Latte.
Max
“Hello?” Abby asks into the phone and pulls it away from her ear to look at it. “She hung up on me,” Abby huffs as she tosses her phone into her purse. I have my nose up against the glass looking into this empty space. The space has potential, and I wonder why they are no longer in business. Abby starts to tug on me to let me know that she’s ready to go whether I am or not.
“I take it that conversation didn’t go well?” I smirk at her. I’m five years older than her, and I came to live with them when my last foster home became too much for me. I was an angry kid who wanted nothing to do with the life I was living. I use to count down the days until I turned eighteen so I didn’t have to answer to anyone and do what I wanted when I wanted. Abby changed everything for me. From the moment I yelled at her to leave me alone, she did the opposite. Abby made me feel like I was more important to her than anyone else in her life. She’s my best friend and my rock.
“She told me that it wasn’t for sale and hung up on me.”
I decided to move to Florida when Abby married Cash almost a year ago, all the bullshit between our parents, and I knew that what I needed was a fresh start too. Sarah and I packed up the house, left our jobs, and headed down south for the winter.
“No, don’t do it, Abby.” I see the look of Abby not taking no for an answer. She gets this look, her eyes going back and forth, mumbling to herself, writing stuff down. I didn’t even notice that she had a tablet and a pen with her. I peeked over her shoulder to see that she has “Hire a P.I. to find R. Cramer” written on it. I snatch the notebook from her and tear the piece of paper.
“Hey! Give that back to me.” My arm blocks her from grabbing it out my hand.
“No, you’re not going to hire a P.I. Abby, you’re pregnant, do you really need to add the stress of starting a business? I think what you need to do is concentrate on helping Sarah and me get Stephens and Edwards Build & Design off the ground. How about that?” I crinkle the paper up and put it into my pocket.
“You’re lucky that I love Sarah.” She sticks her tongue at me and laughs. She links arms with me and says, “Oh, look, there’s a hamburger joint right there, you must feed me.” So, I push the button for the walk signal and we head into the restaurant where I feed the pregnant woman.
Four hours of looking at office spaces, and I see a few with great potential, but I have to wait on Sarah’s opinion—as she is going to be my designer and partner—since she’s out of town.
Back at my apartment, I’m trying to get it somewhat organized, carrying down the boxes that are Sarah’s and not mine.
The last time I ran up the steps to get another load, I noticed that Chad was sticking his head out the door. Reagan must not be home yet, and it makes me wonder if he knows her schedule. I grab the last box and make a plan to keep an eye out for Reagan. I close up my truck and hear “All About the Bass” by Meghan Trainor. I can’t help but chuckle at the scene before me—Reagan is dancing to the music. I hear a car door slam and walk over to her.
“Hey, Reagan.”
She grabs her chest. “Shit, you scared me.”
“Sorry about that, but I thought you saw me standing here waiting for you. Chad’s been on the lookout.”
“I’ve had a bad day, and I don’t want to deal with him.” She’s struggling with a box in her trunk, so I grab her hands to steady her. She’s shaking, her face tear stained.
“Let me get this for you, lock up your car.” Grabbing the box out of the car, we head up the stairs. “I’m sorry that you had a bad day, want to talk about it?”
“I’d love to just talk about it, but legally, I can’t—I’m a Children and Youth Caseworker.”
“I bet that can be a rewarding and I’ll take a bottle of Jack Daniels job. Man, if my caseworker looked like you when I was growing up, I would have made more of a big deal to see her more often.” She laughs as she nods. We both see Chad poke his head out when he hears her laugh. He starts walking out without that sneer that’s on his face when it comes to seeing Reagan. But he frowns and scurries back into his apartment when he sees me next to her. She opens the door to her apartment, and Jonathan’s sitting there playing his Xbox. “Are you practicing so you can try to beat me?”
“Max!” Jonathan jumps off of the couch to greet me.
“Um, just set it on the counter. Jonathan, homework done?”
“Yes. Max, want to play?” I look at Reagan to see if she has a problem with it. She’s a hard person to read so I watch intently to see if I can pick up on anything.
“Max, you’re more than welcome to stay and school Jonathan. Would you like to stay for dinner as well?” I’m not going to give up a chance to spend time with her so I can get to know her better.
“If it’s not a problem, I’d love to stay.” Reagan smiles then heads into her bedroom. When she closes the door to her room, I take a look around her place. Our apartments seem to share the same layout.
The owner of the apartment building gutted an old motel of two hundred rooms to about one hundred fifty apartments. When I was online searching for a place to stay, this one was odd and different, so I had to take it.
Reagan’s living room was set up for a teenage boy by the look of the big screen TV and a few different gaming consoles. There’s a wall that’s lined with books and photographs. I want to snoop, but Jonathan’s watching my every move, so I make a mental note to check it out next time.
“Are you going to play or stare at my aunt’s bedroom?” Jonathan holds out the controller to me with a smirk on his face. I flop down next to him to begin schooling him in Call of Duty.
“Hey, old man, do you need a walker to get your ass moving? You call that a kill? Aunt Reagan can do better than you, and she’s never played this game. Oh, my god, Max, do something. Oh, look at that, I’m on top with kills.” Jonathan starts doing some weird victory dance. I can’t help but laugh because Rob, my best friend back in Pennsylvania and I have clocked in over four hundred hours of this game. I was going to take it easy on him, but he needs to learn a thing or two about gaming.
“We should go again; I think I’m getting the hang of it by watching you.” Jonathan is a cocky boy and this is going to be fun.
“Knock it off, asshat! Share the kills.” He’s getting frustrated now, and when the game ends, he tosses his controller across the room.
“Jonathan, that’s uncalled for. I’m assuming that you didn’t pay for that but someone who works hard for their money? If you want to get good at this game, I can help you, but acting like you’re the best of the best is not the way to do it. My friends and I play this together for many hours. Do you want me to show you ways to get better?” I ask as I point to the controller that is broken in three pieces. He grabs it and tosses it in the trash.
“Will you teach me?” Jonathan’s voice has a hint of excitement when he squeaks out the question.
“I’ll even talk to your aunt about playing with my friends, but we need to get your anger under control first. If you want to do anything in life, your attitude is going to define you.” Jonathan is a smart kid and he’s so eager to know what I’m talking about and how to be better.
Reagan
I walk into my room to calm my beating heart. Max is doing something to me, but I’m scared to explore it. Is he using Jonathan to get to me? I sense a bond is forming with Jonathan and Max. I’ve prayed nightly from the time Jason was killed for someone to take Jonathan under his wing. He is so angry most of the time, and I don’t know why. The therapist is no help, because Jonathan sits there not talking.
I sit down on the bed to pick up the picture of Kennedy and myself.
“I need some guidance, big sis.”
I put the picture down, then start some deep breathing through my nose and mouth. I don’t want Jonathan to see that I was crying because he’ll ask questions that I can’t answer. I only talk about the fun stories of his parents, and I do the missing and grieving in private. I wipe my sweaty hands on my jeans then stand to change into something more casual and comfortable.
I come out of the bedroom putting my long, brown hair into a ponytail. I changed into my favorite black tank top and red and black basketball shorts since I promised Jonathan last night to shoot some hoops after dinner.
“Sorry about that, boys, I had a work call.”
“No worries. I’m just schooling this boy in some skills,” Max lets me know, never taking his eyes off of the TV.
“I’m thinking BBQ chicken, macaroni salad, and steamed carrots. Good, or do you want something else?”
“Chicken sounds great. I haven’t had a home-cooked meal since my sister moved to Florida.”
“Well, I haven’t killed anyone yet. There’s always a first time for everything.” I wink at him, and he just smiles back at me. I pull out the chicken to start getting ready for dinner, moving quickly around the kitchen, getting the pan, turning on the stove, and grabbing the bottle of my family’s secret BBQ sauce.
“Aunt Reagan, can I go shoot some hoops while you cook dinner?” Jonathan is standing next to me as I’m preparing the chicken.
“Sure, just don’t leave the court. It should be about forty minutes before dinner is ready.”
“Thanks.” Jonathan kisses my cheek as he leans in to steal a cookie from the cookie jar on the counter. I swat at him and I’m met with a grin that makes him look just like his dad. “Max, you want to shoot some hoops?” Jonathan asks as there is a knock on the door. It’s one of Jonathan’s friends wanting to shoot hoops. Max waves him off, then Johnathan leaves, and it’s just the two of us.
“Is there anything I can do to help? It seems like I have been ditched.” He smiles and rubs his hands together.
“Can you cook?” I raise my eyebrow at him.
“I’m a bachelor, what do you think?” He mimics my stance of eyebrow raised and hand on the hip.
“Oh, so it’s worse than I thought.” I grab the counter to feign shock. It’s easy with Max—like being with an old friend reconnecting after years of being apart. We laugh then I tell him what I need him to do. I turn on my music and we work in perfect harmony. He actually knows his way around a kitchen. When the chicken is in the oven cooking, I offer him a beer. I motion for him go into the living room to sit down.
“My sister and her best friend, Sarah, would love this collection. Our house had a library that they were constantly begging me to redesign the downstairs for a bigger room.” Max has a smile that reaches his eyes every time he talks about his sister.
“My sister was in publishing. She would come home to read books to find the next big author.”
“If you don’t mind me asking, does Jonathan live here with you?” Max sits down next to me as he puts his empty beer bottle on the coffee table. I stare out the window, looking at the clouds, watching as the white fluffy clouds roll by letting me know that the world is still turning.
“He does. I have had full custody of him for the last five years almost six years. My sister and brother-in-law died.” I jump up almost knocking off my beer bottle that I had set down to talk about Kennedy because my hands always shake and my lip quivers trying to stop the tears. “Please don’t ask questions in front of Jonathan. If and when he is ready to talk, he will come to you.” Right then, the timer goes off letting us know the chicken is done. “Could you go get him while I get the stuff ready? Max, can you give me a couple of extra minutes to get my nerves under control before coming back in?” Max does something that surprises me—he pulls me into a hug.
“Reagan, you’re not alone.” With those four words, I cry. I cry for the loss of my sister. I cry for the loss that Jonathan will never have of being raised by two amazing parents. We stand there for I don’t know how long until the high-pitched fire alarm going off and smoke filling the room causes us to jump apart as I run to open the apartment door to fan out the smoke while Max throws the chicken into the sink.
Max and I are now standing outside the apartment coughing and laughing while Creepy Chad watches us from his window. Jonathan and his friends come up to see what was going on with the smoke alarm.
“I guess you get to pick where you want to eat dinner since I burnt it.” I cough.
“My treat, and we’ll let Jonathan pick,” Max says. His phone goes off while he’s opening my windows slightly to keep the smoke out. He pulls out his phone and answers it on speakerphone. “Abs, can I call you back? I’m in the middle of something.”
I stop him from touching the stove. “Don’t touch that it’s still hot.”
“Who is that?” Abby asks as I put my hand over my mouth.
“My neighbor, and I’ll call you back when I get back from getting dinner.” He doesn’t wait for a response before he clicks end.
“I’m so sorry. I hope your girlfriend doesn’t get mad that I talked.” I move around the kitchen making sure everything is off. I’m trying to keep myself busy because I didn’t want to hear that he’s seein
g someone.
“Abby is my sister, no girlfriend.” I can’t help but sigh in relief. “Are you two ready to go?” Locking up, I follow Max and Johnathan.
Max
“Can you excuse me for a few minutes? I’m going to take care of this, I’m sorry.” Abby won’t stop calling me. She lets it get to voicemail then calls right back. I need to bring in the big guns. “Cash, man, can you please get your wife to leave me alone? I’ll call her when I get home. I hate talking on my cell while I’m eating out.”
“She heard a woman and now she’s like a rabid dog looking for a kill.” He laughs as Abby says something.
“I understand that.”
“Max, who is she? When did you even have time to meet a girl? What were you doing in her apartment or was she in yours?” Abby is talking fast trying to get all of her questions in at once.
“Abby, you call one more time and I’m moving away. I told you that I would call you, and do I not call you when I say that I will?”
“Yes.” Abby’s tone of defeat lets me know that she finally gets it.
“I love you, now go spend time with your husband, and let me enjoy my night.”
“I better get details at lunch tomorrow. I love you.” She hangs up not waiting for a response back from me. I head back to Reagan and Jonathan, who are sitting at a picnic table set up next to the food truck we walked to. They’re talking and pointing at something.
“What are you looking at?”
Reagan jumps. “Don’t do that. We’re looking at the billboards. It’s a game that we play. How is your sister?”
“She’s pregnant and driving me crazy. Look at the billboard. There’s a Christmas parade in a month, want to take a newcomer to it?” I sit down on the bench next to Jonathan.
“We usually go with my Aunt Nic and her kids, but I don’t think she would mind.” Jonathan lets me know as he gets up to throw away the napkins.
Love Me Like You Mean It Page 4
