by Joss Wood
She didn’t know if she wanted to do that anymore. She didn’t know what she wanted.
Rescuing Coe from Mickey Kane had taught her that she no longer needed to prove a damn thing to anybody. If her father didn’t respect her after this, then screw him . . . Actually, screw him anyway. She was tired of looking for approval that would never come, mentally exhausted at trying to prove herself, especially since she’d had the approval she needed—Kai’s and Sawyer’s, even Axl’s—all this time. She didn’t have to be the best, the fastest, the most proficient . . . She just had to be Reagan.
And if being Reagan wasn’t enough for Axl to love her, then screw him too. But, dammit, it hurt like hell. Her entire body ached; her bones and skin and organs all felt tired and depressed. It was a sadness she couldn’t outrun, not even in her dreams.
Reagan heard the slam of a car door and looked up to see Knox and Bryn climbing out of his luxury SUV. Bryn opened the door for Coe, and within seconds the tiny human whirlwind was belting up the path and across the porch to fling himself at her. Reagan caught him and buried her face in his mop of hair, squeezing him tighter than she should.
Coe allowed her to hug him for ten seconds before wriggling fee. He leaned against her legs and smiled up at her. “Dad is going to buy me a puppy.”
“I said we’ll think about a dog,” Knox said as he walked up the steps. “A small dog, not a Rufus-sized dog.”
Coe shoved out his bottom lip as Knox dropped a kiss onto the top of her head. Reagan gestured them to take a seat and lifted up her cup of coffee. “Should I get you a cup?”
“We’re heading to the airport, we have a plane to catch,” Knox said, shaking his head. Taking her hand, he looked into her face. “You okay, Reags?”
“I will be,” Reagan told him, hoping that she was speaking the truth.
Bryn leaned his butt against the railing and stretched out his long legs. “CJ called this morning; she’s been looking into Michelle’s disappearance.”
Reagan looked at Coe and suggested that he go into the house to look for the kittens that Flick had rescued a couple of months back. They were always around and loved company. Coe, with an excited nod, barreled into the house.
“Is she dead?” Reagan asked when he was out of earshot.
“All we know is that she’s been missing for a very long time. Mickey Kane is a blackmailer and a kidnapper but, without the video, we can’t prove Marina’s claim he murdered her while making a snuff film. That’s even assuming that the file Sula kept is of that event, which is a long shot in itself,” Bryn stated.
Reagan knew that Axl passed the corrupted files on to the police and they were using the technology they had to try to rebuild the files, but she didn’t have much hope of success. If Axl and his team couldn’t find anything, then she doubted anyone could.
Reagan blew out a long stream of air, frustrated. “Well, at least he’ll be charged for arson, attempted murder, and kidnapping. He’ll still serve time.”
It wasn’t justice for Michelle but it was something. Knox had a torrid time this last week; the press had camped out at the entrance of the Freedman estate, desperate to catch a glimpse of Knox and Coe, the husband and son of the most famous porn star in history. Some of the story was leaked. They’d managed to keep Coe’s having been drugged and Reagan’s role out of it, and Cas operatives had had their hands full trying to keep the more intrepid reporters from sneaking onto the property.
Knox issued a press statement two days before, and while Reagan didn’t want to wish bad fortune on anyone, she did wish that a celebrity A-lister would do something to divert the attention of the press. No panties, a DUI, a drug-filled orgy . . . Seriously, she wasn’t picky as long as the press moved off this story.
“How did you make it over here without the press following you?” Reagan asked.
“Ah, I leaked it that we were leaving early this morning and we had a decoy vehicle leave the estate then,” Bryn replied.
Reagan crossed her legs and looked at Knox. “How are you doing?”
Knox pushed his shades into his hair and rubbed his hand across his stubble-shadowed jaw. “I don’t know. I think I’m on autopilot. I’m still taking it all in, but knowing . . . what I know . . . it makes sense, you know? She now makes sense.”
“And Interconnected? What happens to the movie?” Reagan asked, nodding her understanding and knowing that was all Knox was going to say about Sula.
Knox shrugged. “No idea. We’ll have to wait and see. It’ll probably, with all the publicity, end up being another blockbuster.”
“Marina?”
Knox grimaced. “Never want to see her again.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Actually, I’m not sure if I want to go back to that life again.”
Reagan sat up straighter and frowned. “Wait! What? Are you seriously suggesting that you are thinking about giving up acting?”
“Maybe not giving up, maybe I’ll take a break, a long break,” Knox said, smiling. “Coe loves Mercy, I love Mercy. Bryn is taking a job with Caswallawn, so I thought I might buy a farm here, work on a screenplay, chill with my kid. I like Mercy.”
“Mercy likes you,” Reagan said. “You do know that every mama with a single daughter will try and set you up with her?”
Knox’s smile was full of genuine amusement. “They can try but I can duck and dive with the best of them.”
Knox stood up. “We’re going back to LA, but we’ll be back for the charity race; Coe wants to do the kids’ race and Bryn is doing the ultramarathon.”
“And you?” Reagan asked, giving him a once-over. God, he was gorgeous, all muscle and height and great genes. Genes that didn’t make her heart race or her blood swirl. Dammit. He would be a fantastic rebound guy.
“I might take part.” Knox smiled before bending down to drop a kiss on her cheek. He cupped her face and stroked a thumb over her cheekbone. “You’re sad. Come to LA with us, get away from here.”
God, it was tempting. Reagan thought about saying yes but shook her head. “I don’t think so, but thanks.”
“You change your mind, you call me,” Knox told her. He yelled for Coe, and when the little guy appeared outside, Reagan held out her arms for another hug.
“See you soon.,” Reagan whispered.
“Reagan?” Coe spoke in her ear, and Reagan tipped her head, her lips curved in a smile.
“Yeah?”
“I want to marry you one day.”
Reagan felt tears burn her eyes, so she closed them and inhaled his little-boy smell. “Let’s talk again when you’re thirty, dude.”
Well, at least she could go to her grave with one marriage proposal, Reagan thought, even if it was from a precocious four-year-old.
***
Reagan leaned her shoulder into the wooden post and watched the SUV turn the corner, feeling like a part of her heart was driving away. God, she loved that kid and she’d miss him . . . He’ll be back, she told herself. He and Knox and Bryn, her friends, would come back to Mercy, they would hang out again. Just because Axl left her didn’t mean that everybody always would.
He was one guy, but the most important guy. Was she ever going to be able to move past him?
Reagan jumped when Pippa bumped her shoulder into hers, and she slapped a hand on her heart. “Dammit, Pips! I’m jumpy and I have some mad self-defense skills! You do not want to be creeping up on me right now!”
“Oh, please!” Pippa replied. “I could blow you over with one puff! When last did you sleep, eat?”
Who knew? “Don’t fuss, Pips.”
“I will if I want to,” Pippa said, stubborn. “You’re my friend and that gives me license to boss you around.”
Reagan lifted her eyebrows at her. “Really?” she demanded, but she acknowledged the warmth in her stomach, the pleasure of her uncomplicated friendship.
; “So, did I hear right? Is that luscious man moving back to Mercy?”
Reagan nodded. “Seems like it.”
“Mmm, maybe I’ll have an affair with him,” Pippa said, tipping her head.
“You’re going to juggle him with Sawyer?” Reagan said, calling her bluff. “Not sure that Sawyer is the type to share.”
Pippa flushed a deep red, her mouth half open. “How the hell did you find that out? Who else knows?”
Behind them the front door opened and Reagan and Pippa spun around to see Flick walking through the front door, carrying a plate of savory muffins. Bacon, onion, cheese, Reagan decided as she inhaled the delicious aromas. They smelled divine but they’d probably, like everything else she put in her mouth, taste like wet cardboard.
“Who else knows what?” Flick demanded, thrusting the plate in Reagan’s direction.
Reagan picked up a muffin and sent Pippa a look. She was still doing her goldfish impression, so Reagan jumped into the silence. “Ah, Knox might be retiring and moving back to Mercy.”
“Well, huh,” Flick said, putting the plate down on the coffee table and picking up a muffin. “I hope he’s ready for the meddling mamas and their desperate daughters.”
“That’s what I told him,” Reagan said, taking a bite of the muffin. She chewed, swallowed, and wished she had water to chase it down. Axl had not only broken her heart, he’d also killed her taste buds. Bastard.
Flick ate her muffin in three bites and frowned at Reagan. “You okay?”
Reagan didn’t have the energy to lie. “No.”
“He’s such an idiot.” Flick shook her head. “I could just smack him senseless.”
The thought of the ultra-feminine Flick whaling on Axl almost made her smile. Reagan bit her bottom lip and stared at the hems of her black cargo pants. “Is he okay? Has anyone heard from him?”
She saw the look Flick and Pippa exchanged and narrowed her eyes. “What? Tell me!”
“He’s isolating himself, not taking calls, only responding to the emails about business. Kai and Sawyer are tearing their hair out.”
Reagan understood that. Sometimes it was easier to crawl into a hole and lick your wounds, wait until you felt stronger before facing the world. “But why would Axl do that? He was the one who walked away.”
Unless . . . Reagan felt a spurt of hope. Unless he was feeling as miserable as she was.
“Uh, honey, there’s something you don’t know,” Flick softly stated.
Ah, crap. What now?
Flick dusted muffin crumbs off her hands. “The morning after the kidnapping, Axl got a barrage of calls from his family.”
“And?”
“The kid they wanted to adopt, he moved in with Axl’s parents. The kid’s mother is also living with them and his parents have promised to support her,” Flick explained, and Reagan’s stomach dropped to the floor. “They demanded more money from Axl. His half sister’s marriage is on the rocks and she has also moved back home, with her two kids. The place is full to overflowing and they want Axl to rent them another house or to buy a bigger place.”
Reagan shook her head, unable to believe what she was hearing. “What. The. Hell.”
Reagan pushed her hand through her hair. “My instinct is to go to Clarksville and raise holy hell and tell them to get their shit together.” She said. “But this is Axl’s life, his family, his cross to bear. He cut me out of his life and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.” Reagan placed hands over her face. Tears burned and rolled and wet her cheeks. She dropped her hands and looked at the moisture on her fingers. “I never cried when Mike died, I couldn’t. I haven’t cried since I was a little girl, but this man . . . he makes me cry.”
Flick stepped forward and wrapped both arms around her. After a little while she felt Pippa’s hand on her back. While her heart still felt like it was in intensive care and barely functioning, these women had become her soft place to fall. They were keeping her together, keeping her from sinking into a space of loneliness and depression that she suspected would be difficult to return from.
Reagan rested her forehead on Flick’s shoulder and her hand shot out to grasp Pippa’s. “You were right, Flick.”
“I’m always right, honey,” Flick responded as she stepped back, amusement in her voice. “You’re going to have to be more specific.”
A tiny laugh tried to push up through Reagan’s closed throat. “About us becoming friends. I don’t know if I’d survive this without you two.”
Pippa squeezed her hand. “Oh, Reags, you would. You’re the strongest woman we know. And Axl is a freaking idiot for not scooping you up and making you his. Flick, I really do think we need to break his kneecaps.”
“My future husband might have a problem with that.” Flick pushed Reagan’s hair off her forehead and she smiled. “Tough, he shouldn’t have messed with our friend. Get the baseball bat, Pips.”
***
He was operating on autopilot, but it was the only way he was going to get through the next hour. Crap, he hoped this didn’t take more than an hour . . . Then again, it had taken his family over ninety minutes to all be present for the meeting he’d scheduled for a lot earlier that Saturday morning.
Axl stood by the fireplace, and his eyes skimmed the living room. Sid and Clo sat on the sofa, their hands linked, a dysfunctional unit. Skye sat at his parents’ feet, and Axl was relieved to see that his eyes, though red-rimmed, were reasonably clear. His sisters whispered behind their hands, and Aiden stood by the doorway, looking amused.
He definitely liked his brother Aiden best, probably because he wasn’t a blood relative. Oh, and also because he was the one adult in the room who didn’t mooch off him. Unlike the rest of the Rhodes clan, he stood on his own two feet.
Aiden lifted his thumb in the direction of a young woman in her twenties, who had a small child on her hip, and raised his eyebrows. Oh, right, Sid and Clo’s latest project. He’d done extensive research on Jane Grimme, and she’d come out smelling more like a con artist than a rose.
Axl folded his arms across his chest. “Jane, right?”
Her head shot up and she nodded. “Yes, I’m Jane.”
“You’re the homeless single mother who was living in a shelter until you ran into Clo at the supermarket and conned her into taking you in?”
“Axl Rhodes!” Clo shouted. “Be nice to my guest!”
“Be quiet, Clo,” Axl said, his voice hard. Yeah, he was now calling them by their given names. They’d never been real parents and he was tired of hoping they would be. He pointed his finger at Jane. “You’re not homeless. In fact, you have a boyfriend and you live on Peach in a rather nice little cottage. He’s a mechanic and you have wealthy parents who send you cash every month.”
Jane’s mouth fell open, as did Clo’s and Sid’s. Aiden laughed. Axl ignored them.
“I don’t know what scam you are running but they”—Axl pointed at his parents—“don’t have the money, I do. And I’m not playing your game. If you’re not out of this house in fifteen minutes, I will have you arrested.”
“It’s not your house,” Sid shouted. “You can’t kick her out.”
“The name on the deed is mine and I damn well can,” Axl said, feeling the headache expand to the base of his neck. He looked at Aiden. “Can you see that she leaves and that she doesn’t take anything that isn’t hers?”
Aiden nodded. “Sure. You don’t need me to stay?”
Axl shook his head. “None of what I’m about to say applies to you, and I thank you for that.”
Aiden nodded and sent Axl an encouraging smile. “It’s about damn time.”
Axl took a deep breath and placed his hands on his hips. How to do this, what to say? A part of him wanted to run out of the door, leave a fat check, and keep the status quo. It would be the easy option . . .
The
easy option. God, was that what he’d been doing, with his family and with Reagan? Was he prepared to settle, to coast, to not rock the boat because it was easy?
Yes, loving Reagan, a life with Reagan, would be exciting and interesting and frustrating, but a life without her, as he now knew, was hell. It was empty and boring and cold and boring and desolate and boring . . .
Reagan brought color and heat and sunshine into his life; okay, she didn’t need him to rescue her, but wasn’t he tired of that? Wasn’t that why he was standing in this room, surrounded by his family, because he was tired of being responsible?
“I just need you to stand in my corner as I rescue myself. I just need you to love me.”
He did. God, he did. And loving Reagan Hudson was something he planned on doing for the rest of his life.
Finally, he heard Mike’s voice in his head, it’s taken you long enough, asshead.
Axl smiled, feeling a little heat return to his heart. He lifted his head and took a deep breath. “Right, Rhodes family, the pipe draining my bank account is now closed. The house is paid for and, parents, you can live here rent-free, provided you agree not to adopt any more children. If you do, you will be evicted. Do not test me on that. Sid, you’ll have to sculpt again to pay for the utilities and your living expenses. Clo, you might have to get a job. Skye, you will be paying me rent to live here. Not the parents, me. Get a job, dude. Sisters, you have men in your lives and jobs. I suggest you keep them.”
Axl looked at the astounded faces and rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m done. You are fully functional adults. Sort your own lives out.”
Axl heard the front door shut and then Aiden appeared in the doorway, his face approving. He jerked his head and Axl nodded; yeah, it was time to leave. Axl walked toward Aiden, the door, and his freedom.
“Where are you going?” Clo shouted behind him.
“Son, we need to talk about this!” Sid said, shooting to his feet.
Axl turned to look at him. “Do not call me son when you have never been my father.” He looked at the woman who birthed him and felt . . . free. “I am going to where I am loved, where I am appreciated. If I’m lucky then I’m going to make a life for myself with a real, non-dysfunctional woman who doesn’t want my money or for me to sort out her shit for her. She’s perfectly capable of doing that herself.”
