Molly McAdams - Capturing Peace

He looked at me for a few moments before saying, “You should really talk to someone. They could help.”

I knew he was looking out for me, but I hated when ­people said shit like that. I didn’t need help. “I have nothing to say to anyone, there’s no point.”

Sensing my unease with the conversation, Hudson held up his hands like he was surrendering and changed the subject. “Well, your studio is close to where my family is and where I’ll be looking for a place when I get out. So let’s grab some beers when you’re not busy, all right? Actually, I’m heading home this weekend. Want to go out and celebrate your civilian status tonight?”

“Civilian,” I huffed, and shook my head. “Fuck, this is gonna be weird. I don’t know if I remember how to be a civilian.”

“It’ll be easier than you think, I’m sure.”

I somehow doubted that. Grabbing the last of my bags, I looked over at him and nodded. “Yeah, let’s go out tonight. Call me when you head into the city, I’m gonna take everything to the studio and look at the places around there for a few hours.”

“Will do, see you later.”

With one last look at the room, I turned and headed out of the barracks to start my new civilian life. Jesus Christ, that was going to take some getting used to.

Reagan—­ August 13, 2010

I FINISHED PAYING for my coffee and shoved everything back in my wallet as I answered my phone.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Ray.”

Huffing as I jammed my wallet into my purse and tried to get out of the way for the next person waiting to order, I put my phone between my shoulder and my cheek, and sighed. “Hey, big brother.”

“You okay?” he asked on a laugh.

“Fine. Today was just the longest day ever, and I barely slept last night, so I feel like I’m about to lose my shit. I’m getting coffee before I go get Parker from Mom.”

His next laugh was louder, fuller. “Sounds like you need a beer, not coffee.”

“Wouldn’t that be nice?” I mused.

“I’m coming home tonight and hitting up a bar with my roommate. He’s officially retired as of today, so we’re celebrating. Come out with us.”

“Thanks, but no. I just want to get Parker and go home.”

Keegan sighed, and I mentally prepared myself for what was coming next. Swear to God, my entire family was like one giant broken record. “You need to go out and just relax. One night away from your son isn’t going to kill you. I know Mom and Dad will watch him.”

“Of course they will, and they’d probably shove me out the door to hang out with you. But I don’t want a night away from him.”

“Reagan, it’s just a few hours. Come hang out with us, have a good time, meet some ­people . . .”

I gasped as I realized what he was hinting at. “Keegan Hudson, are you trying to set me up with your friends?”

There was a long pause before he admitted, “Yeah, Ray, I am. He’s a good guy, I know you’d like him . . . and he’s moving close to you. It would be good for him to know someone there.”

“Christ, not you too. I don’t want to meet anyone, why is that so hard for all of you to understand?”

“Because—­”

“This is so backwards! Shouldn’t you be keeping me from guys? Especially your soldier buddies?” I mouthed a thank-­you to the barista, and grabbed my iced latte as I turned to leave.

“You know . . . it’s not a crime to date.”

“I know that, Kee—­shit!” I gasped, and jumped back from the iced coffee, even though it was already covering most of my shirt.

“What?” he yelled into the phone. “What happened?”

“Oh my God,” the guy in front of me said. His face somewhat apologetic, somewhat amused. “I’m so sorry, are you okay?”

“Reagan! What happened?”

I pulled the shirt away from my body, and stood there in shock for a few seconds before my brain started functioning again. “Nothing, I just literally ran into a guy at Starbucks and am now covered in coffee.”

“That shit actually happens?” Keegan laughed. “Only you, Ray, only you.”

“I’m so sorry,” the guy said again. “Please, let me buy you a drink . . . and a new shirt. Shit, here let me get napkins.”

Keegan was quiet for a few seconds before he asked, “Who is that with you?” His voice was laced with a curiosity I’d never heard from him.

“I don’t know, I’ve never seen him before.”

“Ask him his name.”

“No, look, I need to go. I’m soaked and there’s coffee all over the ground. I’ll talk to you later.”

He sighed. “Fine. Call me later, and think about coming out with us. Love you, sis.”

“Love you too,” I said quietly, and dropped my phone into my already full purse to take the napkins from the guy’s hands. He looked like he couldn’t decide if he should try to clean me off, or if he should let me do that. So I made the decision for him.

“What did you have? I’ll get you another.”

I looked up at his face, and tried not to scoff at his amused expression. Watching him until he finally looked up from my damp shirt, I narrowed my eyes at him. “Don’t worry about it, this is probably a sign I shouldn’t have stopped for coffee.”

I’d started bending down to clean up what had made it onto the floor, when he grabbed my arm. My body froze from its descent, and I stared at his full sleeve of black tattoos before slowly looking up at his dark eyes. They were almost black, and held mine captive until his lips moved again. The amusement was gone from his face and tone, his deep voice now gruff as he spoke. “I’ll get that, this was my fault.”

“I turned into you, it’s mine.”

“I shouldn’t have been standing right behind you.”

We looked at each other in silence for a few seconds, before I snapped back to reality. Pulling my arm from his grasp, I took a step back from him and looked away from his intense stare. Clearing my throat, I hitched my purse higher up on my shoulder and searched for a trash can.

“Can I please buy you another drink?”

“No, it’s fine. Really.”

He laughed awkwardly and looked around for a second. “I’m trying to make up for spilling your drink on you . . . and you’re making it really hard.”

Squeezing my eyes shut, I took a deep breath in and out before turning back to him. I knew I was coming across as a bitch, but I hated asking for help, and didn’t like when ­people offered it. It’s not that I wasn’t grateful for ­people, it was just the idea of not being able to handle a situation by myself left me feeling like I was seconds from panicking.

Offering him a forced smile, I tried to keep the strain out of my voice when I said, “I appreciate your attempt at reminding me that chivalry isn’t dead, but I really am fine.”

Grabbing his drink off the counter, he offered it to me. “Then will you take mine?”

My next smile wasn’t forced. “Thank you, but no.”

“You’re really going to leave me standing here feeling like an asshole?” I might have felt bad if he wasn’t smirking at me.

“I’m sure you’ll live. Have a good night,” I called over my shoulder as I walked past him.

His hand grasped my elbow, and my breath came out in a soft huff. His hold wasn’t menacing, and even though it should bother me to have a stranger touching me, it didn’t. But I absolutely refused to think about why my skin felt like it was on fire where he was holding me.

“Can I at least have your name?”

My voice came out breathy, and I silently cursed myself and his dark, mesmerizing eyes. “And why would you want that?”

“Excuse me, miss?”

I looked over at the barista, but from the corner of my eye, I could see the man’s eyes still on me.