A few of her girlfriends had texted or called to say hi, and Regina had downplayed the reason why she couldn’t go out with them over the weekend. Zia was the only one who knew the truth of what had happened. After her initial shock and anger, she’d calmed down. She’d been Regina’s sounding board over the past few days and had even volunteered to come home to Largo Ridge to kick Buck’s ass for being a butthead. As much as she’d appreciated her friend’s offer, Regina knew that wasn’t the solution. However, she didn’t know what the solution was.
Lying on her side on the living room couch, she pushed and pulled on the pillow she’d had under her head, trying to fluff it up a bit. According to the cable box, it was a little after 4:00 p.m. She’d spent almost the entire day alternating between binge watching a police drama show on Netflix and dozing off for short naps. The painkillers gave her brain fog, and she was going to try and use Tylenol instead of the next prescription dose. The main thing that physically hurt her now was the pull on the stitches whenever she moved. The ER doctor had told her he’d needed to use seventeen stitches to close up three incisions that’d been too deep for Steri-Strips. Ryan had helped her apply an antibiotic ointment to her back, twice a day, while she’d used the bathroom mirror to see and get the stuff on the wounds on her ass and thighs. The last of the Steri-Strips had fallen off that morning. As much as she wanted to take a shower, she’d have to wait for Ryan to come home. The ER nurse had given her clear, plastic shields to tape in place over the stitches, so they wouldn’t get wet, and she couldn’t reach back to get them on properly.
Her phone rang, and she snatched it from the coffee table, praying it was Buck. Her heart sank when she saw it was Ryan calling. Knowing he’d worry if she didn’t answer, she connected the call. “Hi, Ry.”
“Hey, Gi. Just calling to check on you. Do you need anything? I’ll be on my way home soon.”
Did she need anything? Yeah, she needed Buck. “No, I think I’m good. Oh, wait. I finished off the last of the milk. Can you stop and grab some?”
“Sure. How does Chinese sound for dinner? I’ll pick it up on the way.”
She pondered that for a moment, then said, “That works. Steamed dumplings, a shrimp roll, General Tso’s chicken, and orange soda.”
A soft chuckle came over the line. “As if you order anything else. See you in a bit.”
“Okay.”
Disconnecting the call, she hesitated a moment before hitting the speed dial for Buck. When it went to voice mail after only two rings, she sighed and waited for the beep. “Buck, please call me. I hope you’re listening to my messages instead of just deleting them. I . . . I just need to see you, to know you’re all right and to show you I’m fine too. Please call.”
A few tears rolled down her cheeks, and she wiped them away then placed the phone back on the table. Determination flowed through her. Tomorrow, whether he liked it or not, she and Buck were going to have a showdown, and she prayed she was the victor.
Ryan knocked on Buck’s office door, entered, and shut it behind him without a word from either of them. With all the work that needed to be done for the ski season and decorating for Halloween—they had two days before the haunted hayrides started—Buck had been able to avoid his best friend. However, it looked like that time was over. Like Regina, Ryan had left Buck some voice and text messages, which he hadn’t answered. Yeah, he’d been a chickenshit, wanting to put off the inevitable confrontation as long as possible.
Not taking a seat, Ryan crossed his arms and glared down at Buck from the other side of his desk. Sighing, Buck tossed his pen on the papers he’d been going through, leaned back in his chair, and ran a hand down his face. “You don’t know how sorry I am, man. But I guarantee it’ll never happen again. I-I—”
“And how the fuck are you going to do that?” Ryan spat out. “By never seeing her again? By being an asshole about the whole thing? She’s been crying her eyes out for days, Buck, and not because of what happened, but because you won’t answer her calls or messages or go see her. That’s what she’s hurting about.”
He leaned forward again and slammed his hand on his desk. “I can’t see her! I can’t talk to her! She deserves someone who isn’t going to wake up swinging and send her to the fucking hospital!”
“No, she deserves someone who fucking loves her and treats her like she should be treated. You have PTSD, Buck. You’re not responsible for things you do in the throes of a flashback or a nightmare. They suck. I get it. I have my own demons from being in those hellholes on the other side of the world, but we each have varying degrees of them and our reactions to them. Gi gets that.
“Yeah, I wanted to kill you the other night, but once I calmed down and she’d explained what’d happened, I knew I couldn’t be mad at you. Maybe someone who hasn’t seen and done the same things as you wouldn’t understand, but I do. And so does Justin. But Gi? She’s never gone through any of that. All she wants to do is love you and help you in any way she can. You’re my best friend, dude. If I didn’t think you and she were good for each other, there’s no way I’d be standing here, trying to convince you to suck it up and go see her. You guys can get past this, but only if you fucking try. Avoiding her is not going to make either of you happy, and it’s not going to solve things.”
Ryan let out an exasperated breath. “Look, when I talked to Josh the other night, he made a good suggestion—”
“The dog,” Buck interrupted.
“Exactly. I think it’s a great idea. I did some research. Veterans who have support dogs are singing their praises, saying the dogs gave them their lives back. Josh said he could hook you up with the organization that his cousin got a dog from.”
“So, then I’ll not only have to worry about hurting someone I love if I have a flashback, but also a dog. Great. That makes me feel so much better.” The sarcasm in his tone wasn’t hard to miss.
Taking a few steps forward, Ryan put his hands on the desk and leaned over, getting in Buck’s face. “Putting our friendship aside, you owe Gi, damn it. You owe her an apology for being an ass the past few days. You owe her for running at the first sign of trouble. You owe her because you gave her your love and then took it back because you’re too fucking stubborn to see that she’s the best thing to ever happen to you. Now, you know how you’re going to make it up to her?” Without waiting for an answer, he continued. “You’re going to suck it up and go see her. You’re going to get down on your fucking knees and apologize for being an asshole. Then you’re going to call that organization and ask about getting a dog to help you through the bad times with Gi at your side. Don’t make me throw down with you, Buck, because this is one fight I guarantee you won’t win.”
Buck stared at his friend. Ryan should be kicking his ass right now for hurting Gi both physically and emotionally, but the guy had his back, as he’d always had since they’d been little. Hurting Gi was bad enough but hurting Ryan on top of that made it so much worse.
He swallowed hard and tears overflowed, streaking down his face. “I’m sorry, Ry. I’m so fucking sorry. I never meant to hurt her.”
As Ryan circled around the desk, Buck stood. They embraced as only two longtime friends could—friends who’d seen each other at their best and worst and still had one another’s six. Buck sobbed against Ryan’s shoulder, while Ryan slapped his back a few times. After a few moments, Buck gulped, pulled himself together, and took a step back, so he could look his friend in the eye. “I need her, man. I love her.”
“I know you do. So, get off your fucking ass and go get her.”
Around ten a.m. on Sunday, after Ryan had left for work, Gi finished blowing out her hair, then changed into a loose pair of sweatpants and a long-sleeved T-shirt. After applying a little makeup to make her look less like death-warmed-over, she was ready to hunt down Buck and demand he talk to her. If he thought he could just walk out of her life after making her fall in love with him, he’d better think again. He was about to have a come-to-Jesus moment with Reg
ina holding the reins.
She was in the kitchen, searching for her car keys, when the doorbell rang. Her heart leapt, and she prayed it was Buck finally showing his face. Rushing to the door, she yanked it open before checking to see who it was on the other side. Her happy face dropped as she stared at the man standing in front of the storm door.
With a faint smile, Edward said, “Hi, Regina,” loud enough for her to hear through the glass.
Shock morphed into a sliver of fear. What in the world was he doing there? He’d never come to Largo Ridge with her when they’d been together—had never been to her childhood home. Her brain shifted to her flat tires and the brick that’d been thrown through the plateglass window. Had he been to Largo Ridge before over the past few weeks and been responsible for the vandalism as a way of getting revenge? She had her cell phone in her hand. Would she have time to dial 9-1-1 if he tried to break in?
When she didn’t say anything or open the storm door for him, Edward frowned. “I’m sorry to just show up like this, but I was hoping we could talk. You owe me that much.”
Recovering, she asked, “What are you doing here? How did you know where my house was? You’ve never been here before.”
“It was on the wedding guest list for your brother’s invite.” His mother had insisted on sending Ryan one even though he would’ve been walking Regina down the aisle. “I just plugged it into the GPS of my rental car. I flew up this morning from the city because I really need to talk to you. Can I come in?”
Still keeping the door between them, she crossed her arms over her chest. “This is the first time you’ve been here? You didn’t come up last week or two weeks ago and vandalize my car and living room window?”
His eyes grew wide. “What? No! Someone damaged your car and house? And you thought it was me? I would never do something like that to you.” Hurt flashed across his face. “I thought you knew me better than that.”
Actually, she did. There was no way Edward had been behind the vandalism. Dropping her arms, she unlocked the storm door and pushed it open. “I’m sorry, Edward. I know it wasn’t you. We just can’t figure out who did it and why. Come on in.”
Before he could step forward, Ryan’s voice came through the speaker attached to the camera next to the front door. “What the fuck are you doing there?”
Startled, Edward backed up. Regina sighed and leaned around the door jamb, putting her face up to the camera lens. “It’s fine, Ry. He’s just here to talk. No worries.”
“You sure?”
She glanced up at Edward. “Yeah, I’m sure.”
“K. Call if you need me.”
Opening the door wider, she beckoned her ex-fiancé inside. “Sorry about that. He’s been in major protective mode the past few weeks.”
“It’s okay—I completely understand.”
“C’mon into the kitchen. Can I get you something to drink?”
He followed her. “Water would be fine, thanks.”
While she poured him a glass of water from the five-gallon cooler they used, he glanced around the kitchen. “This place suits you.”
Not sure what he meant by that, she didn’t respond. Setting the glass on the table, she gestured for him to take a seat, moving to sit opposite him. “What are you doing here, Edward?”
Settled into the chair, he lifted his hand and let it drop. “Honestly, I don’t know. I-I guess I need you to tell me what happened between us. I know you tried to explain after you called off the wedding, but I was too angry and hurt at the time to listen to you.”
He looked so lost, so confused, and Regina’s heart ached for the man she’d once agreed to marry. “I’m so sorry I ended things the way I did, that I waited so long to do it. Everything just happened so fast. I did love you, Edward, but I don’t think I was ever in love with you—not the way my parents were in love with each other. But we were so comfortable together, and when you proposed, I guess I thought I was supposed to say yes. I mean, if we’d gotten to that point, it was the next logical step, right?”
Edward nodded. “I can understand that. In fact, honestly, I hadn’t wanted to propose to you—not then. Deep down, I didn’t think we were ready. Wasn’t sure if we ever would be. I loved you too, but, like you said, I don’t think I was in love with you. It was my mother’s idea that I propose to you. She wanted to plan a grand affair, and then have us start popping out grandchildren—the next logical step.”
She reached across the table and set her hand on his. “I’m sorry I didn’t say anything to you sooner. I was just overwhelmed. Every time I turned around, your mother was dragging me to pick out a dress, linen colors, invitations, flowers, and all that other stuff. I never had a chance to figure out if we were doing the right thing or not.”
A snort escaped him. “Yeah, Mother is good at overwhelming people and taking over. She did it again after you left.”
Her brows furrowing, Regina was puzzled by his statement, then it started to make sense. “With Courtney?”
“Yeah.” He sighed. “I’m not in love with her, Regina. I never was. Mother threw us together, thinking she could save face with all her friends. At first, I went along with it all because a part of me wanted to prove to you that you made a mistake, leaving the way you did. But now I see it was the best thing you could’ve done.” The corners of his mouth ticked up in a smirk. “Okay, the second-best thing. The first would have been not saying yes to my proposal to begin with, but we’re both at fault there.”
“You have to tell Courtney and your mother that you can’t go through with the wedding, Edward. You deserve someone you love so passionately that you’d go to the ends of the earth for them, and they would do the same for you. Someone that makes it hurt here,” she tapped her chest over her heart, “when they’re not by your side. Someone who makes you smile, laugh, and hope that, when the time comes, you die before they do because you never want to live in a world where they don’t exist.”
Biting his bottom lip, he nodded in agreement. “Definitely not Courtney. And I’m sorry that wasn’t you either, Regina. I hate to admit it, but it’s the truth.”
“I know it is.”
He stared at her a moment. “But you’ve found someone like that for yourself, haven’t you?”
Unable to lie, she squeezed his hand. “Yes. I have. I’ve known him since we were kids but only recently realized we shared something deeper than friendship. You’ll find your special lady someday, Edward. You’re a great guy. I know your soul mate is out there somewhere, waiting for you to cross her path.”
“Thanks. I’ve decided to start looking for her in California. After I break things off with Courtney, I’m going to put some distance between my folks and me. Mother means well—” When Regina raised her eyebrows at him, he laughed. “Okay, maybe that’s not the exact wording for it.”
He got to his feet. “I need to get back to the airport. I only wanted a few minutes to talk to you.”
Standing, Regina followed him to the front door and out onto the porch. When he turned around and faced her again, she stepped forward and hugged him. His arms tightened around her, and she winced to herself as his hands brushed over her abused back. “You take care of yourself, Regina Vaughn. I hope this guy knows he’s snagged one of the greatest women I’ll ever know.”
She patted his back and moved out of his embrace, smiling as she did. “I hope so too. And I hope you find the right woman for you soon—I know she’s out there somewhere.” She patted his chest. “Send me a postcard from California when you get there.”
“You got it.”
After talking with Ryan yesterday, Buck had thought a lot about what his friend had said. He really did owe it to Regina to apologize to her in person and see if they could get past what’d happened. No one was perfect—especially him—and every relationship came with its ups and downs, some worse than others. In the end, hurting her had been a total accident—one he prayed would never happen again.
Instead of going to her house
after getting off work the evening before, he’d called his psychiatrist and had a phone session. Dr. Copeland had agreed that Buck getting a support dog might be very helpful. In fact, a good, trained dog would recognize Buck was having a nightmare and could pull him out of it before it got any worse. The psychiatrist had also said that, in time, Buck might actually be able to sleep in the same bed as Regina with the dog on the floor next to him, ready to intervene if Buck needed him. While not completely optimistic that would work, he loved Regina enough to want to try it.
So, he’d called Josh last night and gotten the number for the organization that provided support dogs to veterans. He’d left a voice message on the main number for Patriotic Paws and someone had gotten back to him this morning. They’d sent him an email with tons of information and forms that had to be filled out. If they decided he was eligible, the next thing they’d do was interview him about how active he was, where he went most often, and what things he liked to do. That would help them pair him with the ideal dog. He’d actually been excited about the possibility after reading through the paperwork, so he’d printed out the forms and filled them out already. Tomorrow, he’d mail the stack of papers back to the organization, as they’d requested the originals, and keep his fingers crossed he was eligible. Then, he’d have to figure out how to raise the $6000 it would cost him. Training the dog took a lot of work and money, and while it was a nonprofit organization, the donations they received only went so far. Buck had put much of his savings into the down payment on his house, the renovations, and most recently, the furniture he and Gi had ordered. He could ask Grace for an advance on his shareholder check.
For now, he’d take it one step at a time. The first, getting down on his knees and begging Gi for forgiveness.
He was about to pull down her street but slowed his truck and pulled over instead. With his current line of sight, he could see a strange sedan parked in front of her house. But that wasn’t what had caught his attention. Regina was standing on the porch with a man Buck recognized from their engagement announcement. “What the fuck?”
Cold Feet Page 12
