Wanting Reed (Break Me) BOOK 2 (4 page)

The doors to the Home Depot slide open, and I’m blasted by the cold air and the smell of lumber and fertilizer. The girl at the customer service counter gives me a very welcoming smile and once-over when I walk over to ask her where the paint department is located. She’s nothing short of model material, standing behind the counter in her orange apron. Her white V-neck T-shirt dips just enough to show the swell of her breasts and her tight jeans hug every curve. I’m sure every man that walks through those damn doors fantasizes about what he would like to do with her in the sack. Just a few short months ago, I would have jumped at her obvious invitation, but now I have no desire to touch another woman. Looking is fine. I can appreciate a beautiful woman with my eyes, but Elle owns my heart now.

Momma has no idea I’m doing this for her. I shouldn’t have waited so long to do it, but it just goes along with how I operate. I wait until the last minute and always scramble to get shit done. I locate the paint aisle, which is at the back of the store. I think I can manage with my one arm, but if not, I may have to recruit Tommy. I know for a fact he hates to paint, which is kind of ridiculous, since he works construction.

Shit. I hate trying to figure out what color to choose. Women are good at this kind of stuff. I wish I had Elle here to help me. I wonder what her favorite color is. I don’t want to think about that and the things that I may never learn about her. I know Momma likes any shade of blue so that makes it a little less of a headache as I flip through the Martha Stewart sample cards that fill an entire wall. I’m reminded of the time I was in Elle’s house the day I took her to the beach. After mulling for about ten minutes, I finally make my choice, a turquoise shade that reminds me of the ocean. I pick up some paintbrushes, a drop cloth, and blue painters’ tape and then take my paint to the counter to get mixed.

The man behind the counter has his back to me, sorting through some hardware. He’s wearing a backwards Cowboys baseball cap, faded blue jeans and a navy T-shirt that has sawdust sprinkled on the sleeves. I notice the tattoo of the state of Texas on his forearm and swallow hard as my stomach clenches.
Fuck.
I try to gather my stuff before he turns around, but my nerves cause me to drop everything onto the dusty concrete floor.

I don’t even bother to pick up the crap as his eyes meet mine. It’s my dad. Shocked, like me, he steps back and rests his calloused, overworked hands on the counter. A smile spreads across his face and he adjusts the baseball cap on his head, so I can see the Dallas Cowboys stitching on the front. How ironic that after being here for a month our paths cross the day before I leave.

“Hey, Son. What a surprise.” He glances around like he’s embarrassed to be seen working before reaching out to shake my hand. His excessive drinking as well as sun exposure has caught up to him. His face has wrinkled some, and his hand feels brittle and strong. He’s put on some weight, but he needed it.

“Hi.” That’s all I can muster out of my mouth. This is one of those moments where you just don’t know what to say. All the words are lodged in your throat, floating in your head, but you just don’t know how to fucking string them together, because you’re not prepared for the situation. He’s my father. He gave me life and that’s all. He feels like a complete stranger to me.

He tensely clears his throat as I start to put all the items back onto the counter.

“What happened to your arm there?” he asks, motioning with his chin.

“Just a small break,” I say, pushing the paint can toward him. I just want to get this whole awkward ordeal over with. “I want this color.” I slide the card across the counter and point to the color as he takes it from me. He lowers his eyes and takes the card. Resting his hand on the paint can, he looks up at me.

“I know this is late, Landon, but I’m trying to turn my life around here. I wasn’t a husband to your momma or a father to you and Juju, but I’m tryin’ to be a better person. I’ve been working now, and I’ve been clean for a few months.” He sighs. Taking the can, he turns and prepares to place it onto the mixing machine before flipping on the switch.

“That’s good,” I breathe. “My name’s not Landon anymore. It’s Reed. Reed Austin.”

He faces me and shoves his hands inside his pockets. He stands there for a minute without saying anything.

“Oh, I see.” He swallows, nodding his head. “You’ve always been a smart kid. I saw a lot of me in you when you were growing up. Then I got all messed up with the wrong people and wrong things. I let people down. I let my family down.” He closes his eyes and lowers his head to his chest. “I suffered, but because of my decisions, you, Juju and your momma suffered the most. I didn’t realize how selfish I was because I was too fucking drunk to care or to know. I was a good person once, and I’m trying to make things right,” he says, raising his chin to meet my eyes.

I’m frozen in the spot, unsure of what to say. This is the most I’ve talked to him in years, and I can’t manage my mouth to form words. He twists back around when the paint machine stops, takes the can and sets it in front of me and smiles. “That’s a nice color, like the ocean. Your momma always wanted me to take her to the ocean, but I never got the chance.” He lifts the bill of his hat, averting his eyes from me and staring down the dusty paint aisle. I can tell he wants to say more, but he’s too afraid. What’s the point anyway? It’s all in the past now. He can’t fix it. “You should take her there someday.”

I fight back tears as I stare into the eyes of the man that is my father. I’m fucking mad that he deprived me of having a father to play with and teach me things. I had to do all that on my own, and at the same time, protect my sister and Momma. Growing up, I took care of everything that he should’ve been doing for us. I’m the spitting image of this man in every way, yet I know nothing about him. I’m more like him than I care to admit. I resolve today to change and not be like him because I don’t want to end up alone.

“Momma, I’m home,” I say, putting down the bucket of paint and brushes in the hallway. It sucks having one arm out of commission for so long. Thank God it was my left and not my right.

“I’m reading in the living room.” She lifts her eyes and smiles when I walk into the room. “Where have you been?” she asks, setting the
People
magazine onto the coffee table.

“I was just running some errands before I leave tomorrow.” I laugh. “I should have picked you up a nice romance novel to read so you can stop reading that trash.”

“You know how I feel about my magazine.”

“I do, and I was hoping to sway you a little bit,” I say, taking a seat next to her on the couch.

“It was nice having you here with us the past month,” she breathes, leaning back on the couch.

“I feel the same way, Momma.” I wonder if I should tell her I just saw Dad. If I do, it could reverse all the progress she’s made since I’ve been home.

“So, what does the rest of your day look like?” She glances over at me and takes my hand in hers.

“I’m all yours, but first I’m gonna do a little painting in here. I want to liven up the place.”

“Really? I would love that, honey,” she says as she squints at me. “What color did you pick? And, is it Martha Stewart?”

“Yes, and it’s the color of the ocean.” I chuckle, kissing her on the cheek.

“I love the ocean.”

“I know,” I answer as she gives me a sideways glance and smiles. “Someday I’ll take you there.”

It’s Tuesday afternoon, and I’ve been busy completing paperwork for the new employees we’ve hired at the center. I shove all the new files inside the file cabinet marked active and pull out Reed’s to move him to the inactive cabinet. It’s kind of fitting in a way. I run my finger over his name scribbled on the manila file folder like I’m going to feel some connection. It’s like I’m rubbing a magic lamp and he’d magically appear if I wished for him. Part of me wants him here, and the other part just wants to just push away every minute I spent with him. I need to bury it in the sand like it never happened, along with every emotion I ever felt for him. Unfortunately, that’s not so easy to do. The feelings will linger like an open wound that will never heal, only leaving a scar as a constant reminder.

I set Reed’s file on top and flip it open. I’m not snooping or investigating anymore, only closing the door on a short, but amazing, one month of my life. He made me feel complete one minute and then utter and total devastation the next. I still remember his kiss, the way he touched me, and the richness and softness of his voice when he whispered my name.

This is the most I’ve thought about him in two weeks as I leaf through the papers in his file. A black and white copy of his Texas driver’s license stares back at me, showing off his crooked smile and hair that falls perfectly over his eye and those full, red lips that tasted so sweet. It brings a reluctant smile to my face just picturing him sitting down and filling out the paperwork. I notice the way he signs his name with a large swooping “R”
and “A,” followed by an unreadable scribble that I trace with my finger. The rest of the information is filled out in small capital letters in his handwriting.

He listed Tommy as his next of kin in case of an emergency, and there was no physical address in Texas, just a P.O. Box. If I ever wanted to find him, he couldn’t be found. He’s gone now. It’s like remembering the important parts for a test, only to forget what you memorized after you’re finished. However, this is one test that will stay with me. I shut the file, close my eyes and lean back in my chair. I allow my mind to wonder what he’s doing and begin to place hope that just maybe he’ll call or come back. Why hope? Why wait? I still have his number. No. He left me. I can’t forgive someone else for their mistakes or for hurting me. I won’t do it.

“Elle, did you complete that paperwork for the new hires? I need to get it over to payroll to get them set up.” Startled, I raise my chin and see Craig, the director, gazing at me with his warm eyes. He’s an average-looking man about five-feet-ten and toned with black hair and dark brown eyes, wearing a pair of ironed khakis and white T-shirt. He’s probably in his early forties, and he’s a new father to a two-month-old baby girl named Maddie.

“Yes, I have the files right here, and I sent all the payroll information in an email,” I say as he walks toward the desk and picks up Reed’s file, scanning the name off the tab.

“Reed was a good guy. I hired him,” he says, slapping the file in his open palm. “It’s a shame he left. The kids really loved him. To be such a big guy, he was very attentive and caring.”

“Yes,” I reply, swallowing loudly. That was the last thing I wanted to hear about the guy who mysteriously bailed on me. “Well, let’s hope the new counselor is just as considerate,” I counter in an attempt to end any more conversation about Reed.

“Let’s hope so. Reed is going to be a tough act to follow.” He smiles as he hands the file back to me so I can put it away.
Great
, I think to myself. I guess I can relate to his comment. I half-smile in response while turning to open the file cabinet. Tucking away the file in the front, I hastily close the drawer.

“So, how is it being a new father?” I ask as I gather all the files and hand them to him.

“Lots of late nights and early mornings. It’s a big change, but I really like being a dad.” He grins as he places the folders underneath his arm. “Well, let me get these files over. Thanks for all your hard work, Elle, while I was out. The board was impressed with the report you put together.”

“You’re welcome.” I smile. “The center means a lot to me. I’ve been coming here since I was twelve.”

“Regardless, you’re a dedicated employee. You’re going to be successful in whatever you do.” He runs his hand through his jet-black hair as he turns to leave.

“Thank you, Craig. That means a lot.”

“I tell it like it is.”