Molly McAdams - Capturing Peace

My heart dropped, and I couldn’t move—­couldn’t respond. This wasn’t happening. My lips parted, but only a short, agonized cry left me. As if someone had dropped a weight on my chest.

“I’m sorry, Reagan,” he said quickly as he turned and walked out the door.

I stood there for countless minutes staring at the door as I tried to compose myself. I wouldn’t cry. I refused to cry. I’d been protecting us for years from men, and this was why. Because of this possibility. Because Parker had fallen in love with him just as much as I had, like I’d known would happen. Because he ran, just like I’d known he would.

Locking my jaw when it began quivering, I curled my hands into fists. I would. Not. Cry.

He was no better than Austin. If he didn’t want us, then it was his loss. We didn’t need him, we were fine alone.

Alone after experiencing life with Coen seemed impossible, and that one word had me falling to the floor as a strained sob burst from my chest.

Reaching into my back pocket, I pulled out my phone and tapped on the screen a few times before putting it to my ear. My body shook relentlessly as I tried to hold back the sobs, and they just pushed through harder.

“Hey, Ray.”

“Kee-­Keegan,” I choked out.

“What’s wrong?” he shouted.

“I need y-­you . . . here. I need you here.”

I heard shuffling and keys. “Are you at your apartment? I’m coming, what happened?”

Strained cries were all that left me for long moments. “Yes, just please.”

“I’m coming.”

Putting the phone on the ground, I wrapped my arms around my waist, as if it could somehow hold me together. It didn’t. It felt like I was breaking, and I didn’t know how to even begin to pick up all those pieces of me—­of us.

“Mom?”

I looked quickly to the right into Parker’s wide eyes, and tried so hard to stop the tears. But seeing him only made it worse. My heartache for my son was only just beginning, and it was worse than anything I had begun to feel for myself.

“Did Coen go back to his house?”

When I couldn’t speak, I just nodded, and Parker seemed to accept that and sat on the floor next to me.

“He’ll come back,” he said softly.

If I could have stopped the crying to take care of my son right then, I still wouldn’t have been able to respond to that. Because even if Coen tried to come back, I wasn’t sure I would let him.

Coen—­ November 1, 2010

MY PHONE RANG for the fifth time in a row, and as I reached down to shut it off, I caught sight of Saco’s name, and answered.

“Hel—­”

“You just left them? What the fuck is wrong with you?” he yelled, cutting me off.

“Christ, did Hudson call you?”

“Yeah, he did. And, Steele, he’s fucking pissed and coming after you.”

I groaned and tightened my grip on the steering wheel. I’d been driving around for hours. Not knowing or caring where I was going . . . just going in circles. “I wouldn’t expect anything else from him.”

“I don’t understand, we just talked like, six hours ago. You told me you wanted to adopt Parker. Fuck, Steele, you told me you wanted to marry her!”

“I know, I—­”

“How can something like that change so drastically in just hours ?”

“I freaked, okay? I was thinking about all of it, and I—­it just scared the shit out of me. You were right, I went from not wanting anything steady to wanting to get married and adopt a six-­year-­old in less than three months. Who does that? I just. Fucking. Freaked.”

“But I wasn’t trying to get you to leave them! I was trying to get you to not rush into a marriage! You could have called me and talked to me about it before just up and leaving her with no warning.”

I kept talking like he hadn’t spoken. “I started doubting everything. Doubting my ability to be his dad, doubting my wanting to even be a dad. Doubting if Reagan actually loves me, or if she just loves me for her son.”

“Are you fucking blind? I’ve never even seen the two of you together except in pictures, and I know that’s not true. Hudson told me she never let anyone in before you. Over six years of avoiding ­people, and you’re the one who breaks through that . . . and all of a sudden you think she doesn’t love you?”

“Shit, no. I don’t know! I told you, it just all came at me at once and I freaked. Don’t fucking judge me. Your cunt of a wife refused to let you see her or your kid, and you jumped through hoops to be able to see him. Dropped your career, bought a house, did everything she demanded of you . . . and at the time, you couldn’t have even been positive he was your damn kid!”

“Don’t fucking spin this around onto me. I’m not the one who just ditched Reagan and Parker! With my situation, I manned up and took responsibility. You’re starting to see all the responsibility that comes with being with them, and you left .”

“I’m not putting it on you, I’m trying to tell you. You handled it your way, even though we all thought you were fucking insane. Now I’m handling this my way. Just because we chose to handle situations differently doesn’t mean you can chew me out for this shit.”

He huffed and started laughing, but his tone wasn’t amused. “You can’t begin to compare what I did and what you just did. I knocked my girlfriend up. I wasn’t about to let her go through that alone, no matter what was going on between us. You willingly went into a relationship with Reagan knowing she had a son and trust issues. Then when it started getting serious and you had a moment of panic, you left. Totally. Different.”

Of course they were different. I just needed something . . . anything to try and justify what I’d just done.

“What happened to ‘I will never quit,’ huh?”

My brow furrowed when I realized what he was saying. It was from part of the Soldier’s Creed.

“So you’re saying,” I began, my voice dark, “that no matter what relationship I got into, if I broke up with the girl, you’d use that shit against me? Question me as a man and soldier? Fuck. You. Saco.”

“No, and you know I’m not. From what you and Hudson have said, and what I’ve seen . . . I know this isn’t just a relationship for you. This is your future, and you’re being a bitch because you had a moment where you let your fears and insecurities get to you. Do you think I don’t have days where I’m terrified that I’m gonna fuck up? That Tate could have a better dad than me? Just because I worry, doesn’t mean I’m going to leave my son.”

“Parker isn’t my son.”

“Wow. Coming from the guy who not even a week ago claimed Parker as his son without a second thought. Hudson told me about that too, asshole.” There was a beat of silence before Saco sighed. “He’s not your blood, but that’s your son. From the way you said that, I know you don’t even believe the shit you’re saying.”

I didn’t, and I wanted to die for even letting the thought cross my mind.

I’d spent that night, and the next day, in my studio trying to edit. Trying to do anything to get my mind off Reagan and Parker. Nothing was helping. I’d been the one to get scared and leave them. I’d been the one to call it off before any of us could get more invested. But now I felt hollow.

I couldn’t go back to my place without seeing them there, and here, in the studio, flashes of Reagan and I together were hitting me hard.

I hadn’t slept for more than thirty minutes last night before I’d woken in a panic, completely drenched in sweat. And this time, it hadn’t been flashbacks of my time in the army. There hadn’t been a flashback, nightmare, or dream . . . just the sense that I’d physically lost both Parker and Reagan and couldn’t find them.