At First Touch (The Malone Brothers) (17 page)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

R
EAGAN
WALKED
WITH
the doctor to Jep’s room, where he left her alone. She really couldn’t even see shadows or dark figures; everything seemed darkly dimmed. The air was cold, and she shivered as she felt her way to Jep’s bed.

“Just look at the fix I’m in, will you?” Jep’s gravelly voice broke the silence. “Well, I guess you can’t, but trust me. It’s a damn mess.”

With her fingertips, she felt the side rails on the bed and made her way closer to Jep’s side. “I heard you had a load of grease in your artery,” she countered, then felt for his old, weathered hand. “I’m glad to hear your voice, Jep.”

He gave a short laugh, and it was weakened, like his voice, from the event of the day. “I’m glad you’re hearing it, darlin’. I don’t remember much after I felt the pain in my chest and I dropped to the ground. But one of the last things I remember hearing was your voice hollering my name.” Jep wrapped his old fingers around Reagan’s and squeezed. “I’m not ready to leave this world, and thanks to you I get to stay a little longer. I don’t know how you did it without your sight, but I know one thing. You’re my angel.”

Reagan smiled, leaned down and kissed his cheek. “You are a very sweet man, Jep Malone,” she whispered.

“Don’t tell anybody,” he answered back. “Don’t want my reputation ruined.”

Reagan laughed. “Your secret is safe with me.” She squeezed his hand once more. “I’ll go get your boys. I’m sure they’re pacing the rug bare in the waiting room.”

“Come see me soon,” he said softly.

“I will,” she replied, and found her way back to the waiting area.

“Hey,” Eric said beside her. He didn’t touch her. Didn’t tuck her hand into the crook of his elbow. “Em told us about the sale of your paintings. I’m...happy for you.”

Reagan pasted a smile to her face. It felt fake, because she really wanted to wrap her arms around his neck and hug him tightly. “Thanks, Eric. I’m excited.” She gave a soft laugh. “Looks like I’ve got a job now.”

In the next second, arms enveloped her, and for a moment, she thought it was Eric. But immediately, she realized it wasn’t. They didn’t...fit like Eric’s did.

“Thank you for being there for Jep,” Nathan said against her neck, then kissed her cheek. “Don’t know what we’d do without that old crow.”

Reagan smiled. “I’m glad, too. And he’s waiting for his boys,” she said.

They all filed through the door, and Reagan claimed her seat beside Emily once more.

“I hate seeing you crushed,” her sister said. “I can see it in your face how much you miss Eric. And for what it’s worth, I can see it in his face, too.”

Reagan wondered if it truly would ever get easier.

* * *

E
VER
SINCE
SEEING
R
EAGAN
, it’d been torture.

It already was, actually; she plagued Eric’s thoughts while awake, while asleep. Knowing she was off-limits, with him unable to do a damn thing about it, made his entire outlook seem dour.

But when he’d seen Reagan doing chest compressions on his grandfather? Then later on at the hospital? Just seeing her made the hole in his insides rip even wider. And it made things double difficult to try to make things work with Celeste.

Had the months changed him so drastically? Or had Celeste changed? He tried to recall her from before. He didn’t remember her being glued to her cell phone, or to reality TV. Hadn’t they gone hiking? Swimming? Biking?

Just the night before, he’d taken her to the movies in King’s Ferry. Let her pick the movie—something very girlie—and still, she was on her cell nearly the entire time. Texting her girlfriends back home, she’d said, when he’d asked about it. He knew she’d had a ton of them, so he didn’t question her any further.

When they did have a conversation, it was all about the baby, what kind of furniture they should buy. Eric really didn’t feel included. Just...present.

Even now, he sat in the parking lot of the doctor’s office while Celeste went in for a checkup. He’d wanted to go in, meet the doctor. Celeste had all but refused, saying she’d only be a second while they took her weight and a blood pressure check. She’d been in there less than twenty minutes, and she now walked toward him, out of the building. Her head was bent, texting friends.

“How does everything look?” Eric asked as she climbed into the truck.

“Perfect as always,” she said. “I come back again next Tuesday, if the baby doesn’t come first.” Once again, she bent her head. Texting.

“Do you want to go for a walk on the beach? We could pick up some Chinese for supper,” he asked.

“Beach, no,” she said. “Have you seen my feet lately? They’re bigger than yours,” Celeste huffed. “Chinese gives me total indigestion. Weird how pizza doesn’t but Chinese does. How about burgers? And can you drop me off at the house first?”

Without a word, Eric headed toward their rental. He couldn’t call it home, or a house. He’d been sleeping on the sofa since that very first night, and Celeste hadn’t complained once. It all seemed...phony. Fake as hell. Yet she also talked about marriage. Being a family. Empty words, it seemed. It was putting Eric’s brain in a tailspin.

Almost like one of her reality shows.

She did ask him to feel the baby kick, and that always fascinated him. That a baby could be crammed into that small space like that, and he’d come out screaming and kicking, a full-on mini person.

One thing that bothered Eric immensely: Celeste never wanted to go over to his family’s place. Not after the first initial meeting. She’d barely asked after Jep when he’d had his heart attack, and that was a week ago. Things weren’t right, and Eric knew it.

Not to mention, his own heart lay somewhere else completely.

When he pulled into the drive, Celeste hopped out.

“I’m going to run by and see how my grandfather’s doing,” he said. “I’ll pick up burgers on the way back.”

“Sounds good,” she said, walking to the front door. “See you in a bit.”

Eric watched her fumble with the lock, then let herself inside and close the door. With a hefty sigh, he backed out of the driveway and headed home.

Home. He’d always call the river house home.

Since Jep had come home from the hospital, he hadn’t been left alone. Today it was Matt’s turn, and Eric pulled in beside his car. Jep was on the porch in his favorite rocker, and Matt was just walking up the porch steps.

“Look at the riffraff blowin’ in here, would ya?” Jep grumbled. “Where’s that girl of yours? You come alone?”

That girl of yours.

Again. Right words. But felt wrong.

“Yeah, just me, Gramps,” Eric said. He leaned down and kissed the top of Jep’s white head. “How ya feeling?”

“’Bout as good as I look, which is pretty damn fair, if you ask me,” Jep answered. “Matthew here is being a pain in the ass, though.”

Eric just shook his head, and unavoidably, his gaze shot over toward the Quinns’ house.

“How’re things going with you, little brother?” Matt asked.

Eric shrugged, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets. “Going, I guess,” he said, and shook his head. “Nothing feels right, though,” he confessed. “My heart’s not in it. I’ve tried, but it just isn’t. Things just aren’t like they were before.”

“That’s because there’s a baby on the way,” Jep added. “Pregnancy does crazy things to women, trust me. I know.”

Both Matt and Eric gave Jep a sideways glance.

“How ’bout some cards out back?” Jep suggested. “I’m tired of sitting around doing nothing. Matthew here won’t even let me finish burning the leaves. Acts like I’m a damn invalid or some such nonsense.”

Matt took a deep, aggravated breath in but said nothing.

“I’ll play a round,” Eric agreed.

Matt ran inside to grab Jep’s deck of cards, and Eric walked with his grandfather around the back of the house to the dock, where he helped him to the table and chairs at the end near the dock house. Eric glanced over, and there on the Quinns’ dock sat Reagan, and his eyes drank her in. Not his to look at like that anymore, but damn if he couldn’t help it. She had a piece of him that would not tear loose, and he wanted to go to her, sit and laugh and talk with her, so bad it made his chest hurt. The sun had begun its descent, but was still high enough to bathe everything in gold. Although she was a few hundred yards away, he could still see her rolled-up jeans, a dark sweater and her hair pulled into a ponytail. Her legs were up, knees pulled to her chest, and she was staring across the water.

“Why don’t you just go say hi, little brother?”

Eric rubbed the back of his neck, shook his head and turned to Matt. “I think it makes it worse, man. It’s bad enough I think about her all the time. In my sleep even.” He scrubbed his face with his hands. “She feels right to me, Matt. Celeste just doesn’t. No matter how much I try. It makes me feel like a schmuck of epic proportions.”

Matt grabbed Eric’s shoulder. “Then that’s something for you to think about.” He slapped his back and headed to Jep, who was setting up the card table.

Yeah. His brother offered very few words, but when he did, they were profound.

Eric felt torn. The thought of a child being raised by a broken set of parents went against everything he believed in or wanted. Yet no matter how much he tried to engage with Celeste, whatever old spark had been there was gone. And the fact that thoughts of Reagan plagued him only proved more torturous. He couldn’t see it getting better. Yet a child—his son—would be born within a week or two.

Yeah, he did have a hell of a lot to think about.

* * *

“I
KNOW
THAT
EXPRESSION
. What’s wrong?” Emily asked Reagan.

As Reagan eased into the booth at Jasper’s Old Time Creamery, she gave a winsome smile. “Eric brought me here.” Her smile deepened as her thought returned to that day.

Em’s warm hand covered hers and squeezed. “If you want to go, we can. I didn’t realize—”

“No, no,” Reagan insisted. “It’s...okay. It’s a great memory.” She squeezed her sister’s hand in return. “And it’s the best ice cream I’ve ever tasted.”

“Okay,” Emily said hesitantly. “What flavor do you want?”

“A scoop of pistachio and a scoop of chocolate,” Reagan answered.

“Swell. I’ll be right back,” Emily said, and left to place their orders.

The past few days had been hard. Harder than usual. She was so excited over the sale of her paintings, yet thoughts of Eric had intensified—so much that she’d grown angry at herself for allowing so many thoughts to enter her mind. She couldn’t help it. Reagan had gone from mistrusting and gloomy to confident and lighthearted, and it was truly because of the connection she’d had with Eric. He’d provoked her. Pushed her. Forced her to trust him. And she had.

And then it had been taken away, just that fast.

Leaning back, Reagan felt the cool bench beneath her shoulder blades, and she inhaled, trying once again to re-create that day in the creamery with Eric. She still couldn’t determine that it was an ice cream store by scent alone. It was cool—borderline cold in the parlor. The tinny music played, and all it did was bring back that day. That most perfect of days.

“Hi, Jasper!” a loud, bubbly voice carried across the room.

“Hi, how are you...” Jasper paused.

“Celeste? Eric Malone’s fiancée? I come in here at least four times a week and you don’t remember my name?” She giggled. “Shame on you!”

Reagan stiffened, and her heart raced. Celeste. Eric’s fiancée?

“Ahh, I hadn’t heard,” Jasper’s deep voice replied. “Any day now, eh?”

Again, the giggle. “Yes! Any day, and we can’t wait! It’s a boy, you know,” she informed. “I’ll have three scoops of chocolate, please.”

“Coming right up,” Jasper replied.

“We’re planning our wedding,” Celeste continued, unprovoked. “And looking at new houses!”

“Here you go,” Jasper remarked. “That’s great, Celeste. You take care now.”

“Thanks, bye!”

The bell at the door tinkled, indicating she’d left.

Eric had asked Celeste to marry him.

They were looking at new houses.

Somehow, and for some selfish, silly reason, Reagan had felt, deep inside, that something would bring them back together again.

She’d been wrong.

“Honey,” Emily said, and slid into the booth across from her. “Are you okay?”

Reagan forced a quiet laugh. “Em, I’m fine,” she answered. “Awkward, yes. But I’m completely fine. I mean, it is what it is.”

“I know,” Emily replied. “But it doesn’t have to mean I like it. Here’s your ice cream.” Em cleared her throat. “Funny, I haven’t heard anything about an engagement.”

“Thanks, but it’s inevitable, I guess,” Reagan said, and pushed her spoon into the top scoop. Pistachio. She smiled as the memory of her and Eric’s ice cream date surfaced, and spooned another bite. “So, let’s talk more about your decorations.” Reagan changed topics. Thinking about Celeste and Eric made her insides ache. “Your big day is getting closer and closer.”

“I know,” Emily answered, but her tone, her voice, carried a somber note that perhaps only Reagan could detect. The amount of love and loyalty that Emily had for her made her heart swell. She knew Emily wished more than anything that Reagan and Eric could be together.

Almost as much as Reagan did.

“We’re going to release lanterns over the river,” Emily said. “It’ll be just at dark, and the lanterns will be lit and the guests will release them, and it’ll be so perfect.” Emily’s voice perked up.

“It really will,” Reagan agreed, and imagined the evening sky filled with illuminated paper lanterns, like so many giant fireflies in the air.

Then her thoughts moved once more.

She couldn’t remain on Cassabaw. Not with Eric and his wife and son in such close proximity. Reagan wasn’t bitter. She wasn’t angry. It just hurt. Too much, like a deep, deep scar that could never heal. Not only did she live next door to Eric’s family, but the island was a small one. To try to avoid him and his wife and son would mean becoming a hermit. She’d come too far to retreat back into that dark shell of nothingness, where little else mattered except being angry over the loss of her sight, her life as she’d known it. No, she needed to remove herself from the equation. And luckily, she felt confident that she could do it. She had to do it.