Break On Through (26 page)

That run, when he’d wondered if he’d find her harmed, had underscored that Cleo and her boys were too precious for him to fuck up with his inability to fully engage. He supposed he could keep it up for a while longer, enjoying the children and basking in Cleo’s sunshine, but in the end he knew he would revert to type. He was Rock Royalty’s prince of darkness, and he’d ultimately retreat to his head and to his monsters.

Cleo and her kids deserved better.

So now he cleared his throat and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Was there something I could do for you, men?”

Obie glanced at his brother.

Eli nodded. “Go ahead.”

“I told her I wanted to give you a picture I drew,” the little kid said. He pulled a paper from his front pocket that had been folded into a rough square. “My Halloween costume.”

“Uh…” Flattening it out, Reed looked at the brownish-green squiggles on the page. Intestines? Worms?

“It’s kelp. Remember, from the beach?”

“Oh, sure.” How the hell was Cleo going to manage this? He couldn’t wait to see what she came up with— No. That wasn’t going to happen, was it?

“It’s not a person, remember?” Obie went on tiptoe to inspect the drawing himself. “Because of the—”

“Zombies. You’re, um, still worried about them?”

Obie frowned. “Well, of
course
.”

“Right,” Reed said, pretending he didn’t hear Eli’s long-suffering sigh. “Thanks for sharing this with me.”

“I told Mom a lie,” Obie blurted out. “I didn’t care about giving you the picture.”

Reed tilted his head. “No? Then why did you come?”

“Mom doesn’t want me to ask. She says we shouldn’t bother you. But you’re just standing here. You have time.”

He swallowed his laugh. “Time for what?”

“It’s my show-and-tell turn tomorrow.” Obie hesitated. “And I want to bring you.”

“Um…”

“You come at two o’clock. Room 3.” He bounced on his toes. “
Please.
”

Shit. He was supposed to be returning to the darkest corner of his lair. Cutting ties. It seemed that Cleo had received the message—she hadn’t called him once—but her kids had yet to catch on that their association was over.

Well, maybe this was all to the good, Reed decided. Refusing the kid would kill the connection.

Opening his mouth, he looked straight into that pair of hopeful eyes. “Sure,” he said, and then tried to convince himself he’d given the wrong answer.

The next afternoon, he checked himself out in the mirror. Clean jeans. Clean shirt, only semi-wrinkled. His fingers combed through his hair. The new cut didn’t look too bad.

He shook out his arms and told himself he was a fool for being nervous. This wouldn’t be his first time in front of a school group. To that end, he’d even called ahead to find out how many children were in Obie’s class. He’d tossed in a box pencils and erasers stamped with his series logo. Everybody liked swag.

Rolling up his sleeves, he took a last look at himself. Maybe the haggard thing would go over well with the elementary school crowd. He had high hopes of avoiding Cleo. She’d be waiting for the boys in the carpool line, he was sure. After show-and-tell, which closed out the second grade school day, he’d escape in the opposite direction.

Twenty minutes later he hovered outside Room 3. The check-in process in the front office had been quick and the secretary had pointed him in the right direction after giving him a guest badge strung on a piece of thick yellow yarn.

Taking a breath, he stepped through the doorway. It gratified him to see the kids were reading, and from the looks of it, their selections were free choice. The teacher glanced up, sketched him a wave, and then called for Obie.

Upon seeing him, the kid’s face glowed. It was the damnedest thing.

So was the way the boy’s hand fit in his. Reed allowed himself to be towed from the doorway to the teacher, a friendly woman who praised the tchotchkes he’d brought along for the kids. Obie’s reaction was even better. His blue eyes went wide and he smiled. “So cool!”

Funny, how two words turned Reed’s height from 6’2” to 10’0”.

The teacher rang a bell to get the class’s attention. Then she indicated that Obie should bring Reed to the front of the room.

Nineteen pairs of eyes stared at him with the avidness of an entomologist examining a spangled flower beetle. He refused to fidget.

“This is my neighbor Reed,” Obie said, glancing at the other students, then glancing away. “I’ve known him for a while.”

Maybe the boy was a bit nervous too, because he shoved his hands in his pockets, took them out, shoved them inside again.

Reed waved. “Greetings, everyone.”
Greetings?
Why the hell had he said that? Made him sound like Dr. Spock. If he kept this up, Obie would want to cut ties with
him
. He cleared his throat. “Nice to meet all of you.”

Obie was staring at the ground, a flush crawling up his face.

Reed agonized for the kid. If he knew how these show-and-tell things went, he’d step in. But he didn’t want to make the embarrassment worse.

“Obie,” the teacher said. “Do you want to tell us a little about Reed?”

The boy looked at her. “Yes,” he said, then his tongue seemed tied again.

Reed cleared his throat and then regretted it as those nineteen gazes shifted from Obie to him. “I brought gifts.” Nothing wrong with bribing the little devils.

That broke the ice some. The teacher elected another child to pass out the pencils and erasers and approving chatter rose from the desks. But it quieted at the teacher’s “shush” and then the class was focused on the front again.

The teacher smiled an encouragement to Obie. “Do you want to tell the class how Reed is a famous writer?”

Obie’s face scrunched up. “No.”

Shit, Reed thought. He probably wanted to tell the world that Reed was an uncaring, cold jerk who’d toyed with his mother’s affections and then dropped her.

As if thinking of Cleo conjured her up, he was startled to see her slip into the room, a clear plastic container of cupcakes in her hands. Obie brightened. “Mommy!” he said, waving.

She smiled, waved back, and then sent Reed an apologetic look.

When he should be the one extending apologies, he thought, his gaze taking in every inch of her from her cap of hair to her low-heeled sandals. He’d not even explained why he’d stopped calling and coming by.

“I’m kind of a hermit,” he told the class. “Do you know what that is?”

“You live in a cave?” one girl piped up.

“Not exactly. But I don’t have a lot of practice talking to people…and kids. I work at my computer pretty much all the time and don’t get out much. It’s…hard for me to be friendly because I’m so accustomed to being by myself.” Did Cleo get he was talking to her?

He supposed so, because she halted in her task of setting the snacks on napkins and straightened, looking at him. “I’m best at being alone.”

“But you’re good at other things, too,” Obie said. “He knows how to make a sand castle with a
moat
.” He glanced at his teacher. “That’s so it has a line of defense.”

She nodded as if absorbing new information.

“Reed told me that. It’s to keep the bad guys—like
zombies
—away from the people inside.”

At the back, Cleo’s dimple popped out as she tried to hide her smile. Inside his chest, Reed’s heart turned over. He knew so many things about her. Private expressions. Intimate secrets.

“And he has a treehouse,” Obie said. “I used it as a hideout once.”

“Treehouses are wonderful,” the teacher said.

“Best of all…”

Reed wondered what he would say.

“He knows everything. Like the names of all the dinosaurs and the names of animal poop.”

Cleo’s hand clapped over her mouth as Reed’s eyes went wide. “Uh, Obie—”

“Bat poop is guano and otter poop is spraint and—”

“Unfortunately that’s all we have time for today.” The teacher, clearly a pro, cut off the recitation calmly. “Thanks to Obie and his friend Reed and Obie’s mom who brought the snack today. You may go to back of the room to retrieve your cupcake.”

The audience scattered, including Obie.

Reed grimaced. “Sorry,” he said to the teacher.

She waved that away. “It’s nothing. You both did well. Now go get a cupcake.”

It was an order, wasn’t it? He took his place at the end of the line. The kids returned to their seats with their treat, leaving him facing Cleo across a narrow table.

“Cupcake?” she said, glancing at him, then glancing back at the table.

“How are you?” he asked softly.

“Fabulous!” She peeked at him through her lashes. “You?”

Miserable without your smile in my life.

When he hesitated, she threw him another glance. “You cut your hair.”

“Didn’t want to scare the kids.” He hauled in a breath. “I wish I could go back to that first early morning when we spoke.”

“Do you?” She straightened. “What would you do differently?”

He rubbed his hand over his face. “Not a damn thing,” he admitted. “That wasn’t the day I wish I could do over.” It was the one when he’d resolved to walk away from her that he wished to take back.

Why couldn’t he have this—have her, have Eli and Obie in his life—at least a while longer? Let them call it off when they realized his ability to care was stunted. Why should he make the noble early sacrifice? “Cleo…” Across the narrow table he caught her hand.

So small and smooth. He ran his thumb over her knuckles. “Darlin’…” Glancing around, he decided against discussing this inside the classroom. Instead, he drew her outside the door. The hall was deserted, and he held her loosely in his arms.

“Cleo—” In his pocket, his cell phone buzzed.

Her eyebrows lifted. “Is that your phone or is your vibrator happy to feel me?”

“Forget about it,” he said, then it sounded again.

“Answer,” she said. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Sure?” he murmured, but pulled the device from his pocket. “Ren,” he said, frowning at the screen.

His body went cold at the grim tone in the other man’s voice. The news grabbed him by the throat like a pair of sharp talons.

He stared at Cleo. “Payne’s been in an accident. It’s bad.”

Cleo had debated with herself for hours before finally surrendering to her heart’s wishes. It thrummed in her throat as she approached the hospital’s surgical waiting room. Though she couldn’t take in a full breath, she forced herself forward. Reed had helped her through her own recent hard times and she wanted to return the support.

The flooring turned from gleaming tile to a sound-muting carpet. Not one of the beautiful people in the room looked up when she stepped inside. Even consumed by worry the Rock Royalty were unintentionally glamorous, from Cami Colson in her boots, tight jeans, and tooled leather cuff to Walsh Hopkins dressed in dynamic CEO-wear of a dark suit, loosened tie, and gleaming leather dress shoes.

Cleo felt a clutch in her belly when she realized Reed wasn’t one of their number. She approached Alexa, feeling most comfortable talking to the newest member of their tribe. “Hey,” she said.

Alexa looked up from her place on a chair beside Bing. He was racing his thumbs over his smart phone, while she stroked his hair. Giving her a small smile, Alexa patted the cushion of the empty seat beside hers. “You heard?”

Cleo sank down. “I was with Reed when he got the news.” How come he wasn’t at the hospital? Did he really find it that easy to disconnect? “But I didn’t get any details. Just that an accident occurred.”

Alexa grimaced. “Payne was practicing for an upcoming Formula E race.”

“I don’t know what that is.”

“I just learned myself. Formula E race cars are electrically powered—and they can go up to 150 miles per hour. We don’t know Payne’s speed when he flipped.”

Cleo’s mouth dried. “Flipped.”

“He’s in surgery now.”

“He’s going to be okay,” Cilla said from a nearby loveseat. She shared it with Ren, who sat with his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands. “I’m certain of it.”

Suddenly her fiancé straightened, his expression both anguished and frustrated. “Cilla, remember when I first came back to L.A.?”

“I do.” She linked her hand with his, the matching tattoos on their forearms creating that heart.

He traced the shape with a forefinger, as if it could calm him. “I ran into Payne on the street and didn’t recognize him.”

“That’s changed.”

“Fucking Lemons,” Ren said.

“We’re making lemonade now, though, aren’t we baby?” Cilla asked.

He looked up, his expression softening. “Because you’re sugar.”

She smiled as Ren brought their linked hands to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. “No more wasting time,” he said.

“No more wasting time,” she agreed.

Cleo decided to take that advice. She stood. “I’m going to track down Reed. Bring him back here.” No matter what he thought, he needed to be with the rest of his family.

“You don’t have to go far,” Ren said. “I saw him out in the corridor.”

That raised her spirits…until she found him around the corner from the waiting area. His back to the wall, he sat on the floor, knees drawn up, his forehead against them, his arms folded over his head—the pose the very picture of retreat.

Reed in a virtual cave.
I’m best at being alone.

Screw that, she decided, and slid down the wall to take her place beside him. “How are you holding up?” she asked.

His arms dropped to his sides and he lifted his head to stare at her. “Cleo?”

“The one and only.”

He glanced around. “The boys?”

“We’re trying a reprise of the sleepover. Alexa’s cousin has them…” She drew in a breath. “So I could be here with you.”

“Cleo—”

“
For
you,” she said firmly.

The back of his head thumped against the wall and he pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “I’m not good company right now.”

“I’m not expecting entertainment.” She wanted to move into him, enfold him in her arms and feel his wrap hers. Touch was comfort, she knew, thinking of Alexa stroking Bing’s hair and Ren and Cilla’s entwined hands.