Capturing Peace (Sharing You 0.50)

I made a face and looked around as I turned off my car. “Uh, that’s not a good thing, actually, I’m pretty sure that’s embarrassing.”

“Don’t be embarrassed. Do you know how annoying that whole mysterious, playing hard-­to-­get voice is? You can never tell if the girl is ready to cry, yell at you, or tear off your clothes. With you, I always know exactly what I’m getting.”

I rubbed at my forehead and laughed uneasily. “Okay . . . ? I guess?”

“And I just made this conversation awkward. We’re starting this over.”

“No! No, we’re—­Coen? Hello?” I looked at my screen and scoffed. “You really just hung up on me?” I asked when he called back.

“Ooh, pissed off, Duchess.”

“I’m not—­”

“Hi, Reagan,” he said, cutting me off. His deep voice somehow calming and warming every part of my body.

“Hey,” I said softly, and smiled as I played with the ends of my hair. “I didn’t think I was going to talk to you until later.”

“Is that why you were so excited?”

I laughed and covered my face, groaning into my hand. “Yes, that’s why I was excited. I’m going to be a robot every time we talk from now on. You’ll never have any idea.”

“That would be depressing for me.”

“And probably impossible for me.”

“Uh, yeah. I’d say so. Hey . . . have you gotten Parker yet?”

I went back to playing with the ends of my hair and glanced at my parents’ house. “I’m just about to, I’d just pulled in to pick him up when you called.”

Coen was silent for a few seconds.

“Why?” I asked, drawing out the word.

“I know you’re scared of him getting to know me . . . but I’d really like to take you and Parker out tonight.” When I didn’t respond, his voice filtered through the phone again, his tone now borderline worried. “Reagan?”

“Um,” I began, and licked my lips. “Well . . .”

I looked toward the house again as I tried to come up with an excuse. I have work tomorrow. True. I have to do laundry. Not true. I have to clean. Unfortunately true, but I won’t get to it tonight regardless. I have to watch my plant grow. I don’t have any plants. I need more time to sit here playing with my hair while I think of a really good reason not to go! I straightened in my seat and stared at my steering wheel as I thought. Just last week I hadn’t been ready for the three of us to hang out, but I also hadn’t known how serious Coen was about this relationship—­and he was right: Parker already adored him.

With school starting in less than a week, the only time I’d be alone without Parker would be the Fridays my work was closed . . . I knew this needed to happen soon, or eventually I would start thinking of reasons for us not to be together because of the time apart.

“We can wai—­”

“What’d you have in mind?”

There was a heavy silence before Coen added softly, “Don’t do this if you’re not ready.”

“You already know him, Coen, I’m just being dumb.”

“No, you’re not. You’re protecting your son.”

I smiled and thought again about Coen getting Parker to eat. My dad couldn’t even do that. “I’m unnecessarily protecting him from someone he already knows and likes, and someone I’m dating and kinda, maybe, sorta like too.”

“Kinda, maybe, sorta,” he said, his voice monotone.

“Yeah,” I teased. “So what did you want to do tonight?”

“We can do easy. We can just grab dinner. Or we can—­”