Calmly, Carefully, Completely (The Reed Brothers 3)

“Even the shattered pieces?” she asks.

I bracket her face with my hands and pull her face up to mine. “I’ll be the glue that puts you back together,” I breathe. “I’ve been locked up a long time, Reagan,” I say.

“I’ve been locked up even longer than you have, Pete,” she says, her voice heavy with emotion. She swallows.

“Don’t give me hope unless you’re sure,” I plead.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything,” she says. She wraps her hands around my neck and pulls my head down to hers and kisses me. Her lips are soft and warm and insistent, and when her tongue touches mine, I almost come in my pants. I break away from her because I can’t take much more. She looks into my eyes. “I’m not ready for sex yet, Pete,” she says. “But I’m closer than I was. I feel like you’ve unlocked the door to my future. Now I just need for you to walk through it with me. So, quit being so f**king scared you’re going to hurt me, Pete. And just like me. And then someday, maybe you’ll love me.”

I laugh. I can’t help it. I chuckle quietly. “I’m glad you had the birth control talk with your mom,” I say. “My brother Paul shoved condoms at me as I was going out the door to come here. I don’t know who he thought I’d screw at a camp for boys.”

Her face goes rosy red.

“I mean, not screw. Well, if it wasn’t you, it would be screwing.” Shit. I’m f**king this all up. With her, it’s going to be so much more than screwing. “That’s what scares me, princess. I’ve never done what I want to do with you.”

“You’ve done it lots of times,” she says with a breezy wave.

I shake my head. “No, I haven’t.” I look her in the eye. “Now you think about what that means and be sure you’re ready for it.”

I turn and go back to Juliette and take her lead rope. My f**king legs are shaking, and I can barely breathe. If this is what love feels like, I’m glad it waited until I was old enough to understand it.

Reagan

Maggie’s not feeling well again, and I hear her wretch from across the room. “Mags,” I say. But it’s too late. She tosses her kibble all over my bedroom floor. I rub her head. She’s still pretty spry for her age, but she’s been throwing up for the past few weeks. I’m going to have to take her to the vet to see what’s up. I clean her mess, and hunker down with a wet cloth to scrub the carpet. But there’s a knock on my door. “Come in,” I call absently.

The door opens, and my heart leaps into my throat when I see Pete standing there. It’s late. “Pete,” I say, as I look up from the puke spot. “I was just…” Are you supposed to talk about puking with a man? Probably not. “Maggie got sick,” I finally say.

“Need some help?” he asks. He walks toward me and drops down.

“I think I’ve done just about all I can do with the floor.” I look down at my pajamas and cross my arms in front of my chest. I don’t even have on a bra.

Pete grins and looks away like a gentleman. I’m wearing a tank top and tiny shorts that my dad would freak out if he saw. I’m not even allowed to leave my room when I’m wearing them. I go into the bathroom and wash my hands really quick. I walk back out and find Pete looking around my room. He touches a music box on my dresser. He opens the top, and a ballet dancer stands up and twirls around to the tune of a song. He smiles and looks over his shoulder at me. “It’s pretty,” he says. “Kind of like you.” His eyes roam down my body, and he licks his lips.

“What are you doing here?” I ask.

He startles for a second. “I wanted to see you. Your mom said I could come up.”

That makes me smile. “Does my dad know you’re here?”

He shakes his head. “He wasn’t downstairs.”

I have a feeling that Dad wouldn’t like Pete being in my room. Particularly with the way I’m dressed. “If I’d known it was you, I would have dressed,” I try to explain. My gaze skitters to the bed, where a hoodie lies balled up. I usually sleep in it, and I pull it over my head and down past my hips.

Pete’s eyes narrow at me. “That sweatshirt looks familiar,” he says. His eyes grow wide. “Is that the one I gave you that night?” he asks.

I nod. “Yeah.” I kept it. And I love it. “Do you want it back?”

He grins. “If it means you’re going to take it off, then hell yeah, I want it back.”

Heat creeps up my face. I reach to pull it over my head, and I close my eyes to do it, but suddenly, Pete stops my motion with his hands.

“I was just kidding,” he says. “Keep it.”

I nod and tug it back down over my hips.

“I’m surprised you still want it, considering how you ended up with it.” His brow furrows.

“You’re the only good thing that happened to me that night, Pete,” I say.

He opens his mouth to say something but shuts it quickly.

“I sleep in it.” I lift the neckline to my nose. “It used to smell like you, until my mom made me wash it.” I have a small futon in my room, and I motion toward it. “Do you want to sit down?” I ask.

He nods, but he has gone back to assessing my room. He drags his fingertips down the winning horseback-riding ribbons that line my mirror. I sit down and cross my feet under me. I stick a pillow into the space and rest my elbows on it. Pete wanders toward my bathroom and sticks his head inside. “I think your room is bigger than our whole apartment,” he says.