Chapter Twenty-one

“Baby...” Sobbing, Mia rushed across the porch and threw her arms around his waist. Her tears soaked through his T-shirt and her trembling hands begged him to hold her back. But he couldn’t. 

How could he possibly offer her comfort—or accept hers—when he didn’t even know who he was anymore?

His entire life was a lie.

A mistake.

A fucking crime.

He’d be willing to bet that not one of the people standing in front of him, feeling sorry for his pathetic ass, had ever questioned their existence. Or been as ashamed of it as he was right then.

“I have to go,” he finally said, his voice as raw and as shredded as he felt.

“Reed, please...” Mia grasped frantically at his shirt when he stepped away. Yeah, he saw the fear in her bloodshot eyes, but he didn’t stop to do a damn thing about it.

He couldn’t.

“Get off me.” He shrugged her hands away and pushed at her arms until she moved aside, only to come chest to chest with Josh.

“Don’t you do this to her,” his so-called friend warned, nostrils flaring and venom in his words. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

Reed gave a bitter grunt. “Why not? It’s in my blood, isn’t it?”

Josh’s lip curled. “Guess that’d explain the coward act.”

One more time, asshole. Open your mouth one more time and I’ll show the motherfucker I really am.

But he didn’t. Instead, Josh stepped back and let Reed cut down the porch steps. Before he took his next breath, he was in his car, the sham that had been his life fading fast in the mirror.

Where was he going? No fucking clue.

What would he do when he got there? Didn’t fucking care.

The only thing he did know for certain was that he sure as hell didn’t belong in River Bend.

Never had.

* * *

“I should have told him,” Pam cried on Mia and Reed’s couch hours later. “He had a right to know the truth.”

What could she say to that? Yes, Reed deserved to know where he’d come from, but Mia understood why Pam had kept it a secret. She was a proud woman. Of course, she wouldn’t want her son to know about her most shameful moment.

“I don’t think he blames you, Pam. He’s not that kind of man.” Though, if she knew Reed at all, he was probably trying to work out exactly what kind of man he was, now that he knew the truth. As if he were anything other than amazing, brave, kind-hearted he’d always been, just because he’d come into this world under less than ideal circumstances.

“I hope that’s true.” Pam sniffled and checked her phone for the hundredth time in the last half hour. “I just wish he’d call to let us know he’s okay.”

I just wish he’d come home and let me help him through this.

“I know.” Mia rested her head against the back of the sofa and sighed. It was already midnight, which meant Reed had been gone for almost twelve hours now. Definitely enough time for her imagination to get the best of her, though in her heart of hearts, she knew he needed time.

“If you don’t mind, I think I’m going to head home now. It’s late and we could both use some rest, even if it’s slow coming.” Pam stood and pulled the sides of her sweater tighter around herself, but not before Mia saw her hands shake. Heck, her whole body shook.

“Let me give you a ride. It’s late.”

“No, no. I can walk. I need to clear my head before I try to sleep anyway, and you should stay here in case he comes home.”

Probably, but she couldn’t very well let Pam walk the streets at this hour in case. Especially not when she was so upset.

“Then please take my car. I wouldn’t feel comfortable otherwise.”

Pam opened her mouth to protest but reluctantly nodded instead. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. If something comes up and I need a ride, I’ll call.” Hopefully that wouldn’t be the case, but it was an easy fix. Pam only lived a couple blocks away.

“Thank you, honey.” Pam pulled her in for a hug. “Call me if you hear anything. Even if it’s just a text.”

“I will, I promise.”

She grabbed her keys from her purse and handed them over as she walked Pam to the door.

“Please know this isn’t your fault,” Mia said again, but Reed’s mom just pressed her lips together in a tight smile.

“Goodnight, honey.”

Sighing, Mia curled up on the couch again, phone in hand. She’d given up on texting earlier when her pleas for some kind of response went unanswered. It just hurt too damn much to pour out her heart like that, especially when she suspected all it did was make Reed feel worse about needing to get his head straight. Or scarier yet—question why she cared at all.

Because that’s what she’d seen in his eyes on Josh’s porch. Sure, there was anger and even shame, but mostly she’d seen fear. Fear that if the very foundation of his life had been a lie, maybe everything else was, too.

Sniffing back her tears, she curled up on the couch and closed her eyes. There was no way she could sleep in their bed tonight and, if she stayed on the couch, she might hear him come in.

Her tears had barely dried on her cheeks when a soft knock sounded on the front door, and Mia jolted upright. Was he home? Did he forget his key?

She jumped to her feet when it dawned on her that she hadn’t locked the door for that very reason. Ugh.

She half-considered ignoring whoever it was when the knock came louder. And a voice followed. A female voice.

“Reed?” the woman called. “You still awake?”

Who the hell was standing on her front porch, asking her husband if he was awake?

Storming to the door, she threw it open and scowled at the familiar face gracing her steps.

“Hey—oh!” Samantha from the coffee shop took a stumbling step backward. “Mia? What are you doing here?”

“I live here.” She folded her arms over her chest. “What are you doing here?”

“I just missed a call from Reed. Um, is he here?”

She’d missed a call from him? How was that possible? “No, he’s not. Are you sure it was him?”

Sam nodded and pulled her phone from her pocket, though it was a wonder she could fit the thing in those tight jeans. And where the hell was her bra? It was the middle of October and she’d come over in a tank top, with her girls saluting the stars.

Realization rolled in Mia’s belly and bile rose in her throat. Jesus.

Sam had come for a booty call.

The young barista held out her phone and, yep, there was Reed’s name and number.

What the hell? Had her husband really called a barely legal girl for a fucking one a.m. roll in the hay?

“He’s not here,” she snapped, denial settling in hard. “More than that, he’s too old for you.”

“Not really. I mean—”

“Samantha, you are a beautiful girl. Have some goddamn self-respect and never ever show up on a man’s doorstep like this again. Especially not this one.”

The girl blinked. “Um, okay.”

“I mean it, Sam. Nothing good will come of it.”

“Okay, jeez. I won’t.” Sam backed off the porch, frowning. When she hit the steps, she turned and began to jog back to her car parked on the street.

“Sam?” Mia called after her.

“Yeah?”

“If he should happen to call again, tell him to go home. To his wife.”

* * *

“Last call, buddy.” The bartender tapped on the mahogany next to Reed’s ear, and he jumped, drool stuck to the side of his face.

“Put the fucking hammer away, man. Jesus.” Wiping his face with the back of his hand, he looked around, dazed. Aside from a couple sucking face on the other side of the bar, he was the only patron left.

“You got someone to pick you up?” the Burt Reynolds lookalike asked, and Reed frowned. First, he’d have to remember where the hell he was.

Luckily, a familiar sign hanging behind the bar finally jogged his memory. North Platte. The bar he’d come to with Josh and Mark two weeks ago.

“Either way, I’m afraid you’ve had your last beer tonight.”

What kind of bullshit was that? “I’m not drunk.”

“Whatever you say, buddy. Now, do you have someone on that phone we can call or am I grabbing you a cab?”

Scowling, he picked up his phone and flinched. Since he’d looked last, he’d missed a dozen more calls from Mia and his mother.

The only two phone numbers in his phone, since, five beers ago, he decided to delete everyone else. Who the fuck would want to talk to a disgrace like him, anyway? They sure as hell weren’t going to come pick him up.

“What’s it gonna be?” Burt prompted again and Reed rolled his eyes.

“I’ve got a room at the motel across the road. Cool your shit, dude.”

“Yeah, well, I think it’s about four hours past your bedtime.” With a sigh, the guy produced a bottle of Gatorade from beneath the bar, along with a dollar-size pack of Motrin. “Take this parting gift and get the hell out of my bar.”

“I’m telling you, I’m not drunk.” But, damn, that Gatorade looked good.

“And I’m not working on my third divorce, but, hey, it’s not the denial that kills us, is it?”

“Huh?”

“Denial. It’s never about the denial. It’s about the fear of the truth.” 

Say what? “I have no idea what the fuck you just said, but I’m pretty sure it doesn’t pertain to me.” He lifted his empty bottle and tipped it toward Burt with a wink. “Thanks, though, buddy.”

The silver haired man surveyed him skeptically. “Why aren’t you gone yet?”

“Not looking forward to crawling in that nasty motel bed alone, not that it’s any of your concern.”

The old guy chuckled. “Figured.”

More with the cryptic chit chat. No wonder Reed had a damn headache. “Figured what?”

“You’re not having woman problems?”

“How the hell do you know that?”

The bartender lifted a shoulder and then nodded toward Reed’s left hand. “You’ve been spinning that ring around on your finger all night.”

“You don’t know the first thing about me, buddy, so why don’t you quit pretending you’re a shrink and stick to what you’re good at.”

“Well, I’m a shit husband, so I guess I won’t be doing that, will I?” The older guy leaned an elbow on the bar and chuckled like they were suddenly friends or some shit.

“You think that’s funny? Being a fuck up?” Because the only emotion he could muster right now was regret. He’d made a promise to Mia and he couldn’t follow through.

That fucking hurt.

Okay, so maybe that was two emotions. Still, neither of them was humor.

“Not funny in the least, but sometimes it’s easier to laugh than cry, you know?” Burt shook his head. “Anyway, you’re wearing your ring, so does that mean there’s still hope?”

“No.”

“Why’s that?”

“She found out earlier today that I’m not really who she thought I was. By now, she’s probably packed her shit and moved on.” And the thought of going home to find her gone? Fuck. He’d rather set the place on fire than go back to the way things had been.

“You lied to her?” Burt lifted that damn eyebrow again, this time giving a low whistle to accompany it. “That’s the kiss of death, man.”

“I didn’t lie.”

“Well, that’s good, because lying and not talking to each other...those things will kill a marriage. Trust me on that.”

But what if there wasn’t anything to say? Mia had heard the same shit he did today and there was no way either of them could talk their way out of that truth.

He wasn’t good enough for her. Worse, there wasn’t a damn thing he could do to change that. Being a fuck up was in his genes.

“That Gatorade really for me?” he asked, digging some cash out of his wallet to pay his tab. When the bartender nodded, he took the bottle and the aspirin and sulked his sorry ass out the door.

Ten minutes later, he crawled into the squeaky, hard as hell motel bed, and stared up at the ceiling until his head was so full of shit and his chest hurt so fucking bad, he couldn’t breathe. 

He missed his wife. And the thought of disappointing her—and probably losing her because of it—made him want to say fuck it all and just end it.

But then his phone went off with a new text and his stupid fucking heart dared to hope again.

After all the dickhead crap he’d done in his life, she’d still believed in him enough to take a leap and marry him anyway.

He grabbed his phone, the stabbing ache in his chest doubling when he saw her name.

“Fuck, M, I’m sorry,” he slurred, sitting upright and swiping to her messages. “I really wanted to be what you needed, because God knows you were that for me.”

She’s texted at least a dozen times throughout the day, but it was the last set that caught his eye.

You should come home and here’s why:

One, we’ve only been married for two weeks and already I can’t sleep with you.

Two, I meant every single one of my vows. Whatever you face, I will face with you. We are partners in this.

Three, I love you. And that love will always be unconditional.

Baby, please come home.