Capturing Peace (Sharing You 0.50)

MY BODY STIFFENED when I felt my phone start vibrating in my back pocket. Looking over to

where Parker was playing with my dad, I pulled the phone out and locked my jaw when Coen’s name, and a picture of the two of us flashed on the screen.

I sat there staring at the screen until the voice mail finally picked up, and a deep sense of longing filled me—­as it did every time he called.

“Are you ever going to answer that boy’s calls?”

My head jerked up to where my mom was staring at me from across the table, and my brow furrowed. “Ever? Don’t say that like it’s been years or something. It hasn’t even been a week.”

“That doesn’t answer my question, sweetheart. He’s called you five times since you got here this morning, and I know that’s not unusual for him right now.”

She was counting? Pressing down the lock button, I held it until I could turn my phone off. Parker was here, I was with my parents, and Keegan was with . . . well, he was with friends. No one would need to get in touch with me who couldn’t wait.

“Reagan,” Mom prompted.

“No, Mom, I don’t think I will ever answer his calls.”

The disappointment was clear on her face and in her tone. “He said he needed time to think. He said he needed some space. To me, that’s not even asking for a break, maybe he just wanted to be alone for a little while, and you took it the wrong way.”

I raised my eyebrows and brought my hand up to point at myself, but didn’t make it all the way before pointing at my phone instead. My jaw shook as I whispered, “I took it the wrong way?” Clearing my throat, I straightened in the chair and shook my head. “No, I didn’t take anything the wrong way. Those were some of the words he said, but his meaning was crystal clear.”

“Reagan, you push men away, it’s what you do.”

“I pushed him, and he pushed right back. I stopped pushing him months ago. I did not want him to leave, Mom. You have no idea how much it destroyed me to watch him walk away from us.”

She leaned forward and extended her arm on the table toward me. “But he’s calling. He’s calling all the time. That doesn’t sound like a man who doesn’t want you.”

Neither did his voice mails. “He walked away once, Mom. That’s all I need to know.”

“Reagan. You tried walking away in the beginning too.”

An agitated huff blew past my lips and I rolled my eyes. “To protect my son. Not because I didn’t want a relationship.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Whose side are you on, Mom?”

“Parker’s,” she said without missing a beat. “I’m on Parker’s. I want the world for you, Reagan, but you’re being childish. I had my reservations about Coen in the beginning, but he is the best thing to ever happen to you and my grandson. And, yes, he made a mistake, but he’s trying to come back, and you’re stopping him. You’re stopping my grandson from having the father he deserves.”

“If Austin had tried coming back, would you have wanted me to give him another chance?”

My mom scoffed. “Of course not. But he didn’t love you the way you deserve to be loved, and he did not love Parker. Coen claimed Parker as his son without a second thought, and without realizing it, the day Parker was rushed to the ER. Even when we mentioned it to him, he still didn’t catch it for a few seconds. That is why I know he deserves another chance.”

I sat there in shock for a few moments before I was able to compose myself. And just when I started to ask my mom what exactly had happened, Coen’s words drifted through my mind. “I’m not your husband, he’s not my fucking child. It is not my job to take care of you!” Looking at my son smiling as he played on the floor—­completely oblivious to everything happening around him—­I shook my head sadly as a few tears slipped down my cheeks. “You must’ve been mistaken.”

Coen—­November 10, 2010

IT’D BEEN ALMOST a week and a half since I’d walked out of Reagan’s apartment, and even though I still called at least twelve times a day, she wasn’t talking to me.

Hudson and I had come home from Oregon late Sunday night because Hudson had to be at work again on Monday, and even with trying to catch Reagan at her apartment, I hadn’t seen her either. Now I was outside the building she worked in, parked next to her car, and was waiting for her to walk outside at any moment.

The second she walked outside I stepped out of my car and waited for her to see me. Her hazel eyes briefly glossed over me before doing a double take, and she froze on the middle of the sidewalk. With a step back, she froze again, and I watched as her chest started rising and falling roughly.

I knew she needed to get to her car. She needed to go get Parker from school, so she couldn’t just avoid me, and it was clear in her eyes. She wanted to run, but she knew she couldn’t.

Walking to where she still hadn’t moved from, I stopped in front of her and looked into her lifeless eyes. “Please talk to me. You’ve been avoiding me for over a week, and there’s so much I need to say.”

She didn’t respond. Her face had no emotion, just like her eyes. And it was killing me to know I’d made her look like that.