35. Reed

Chapter thirty-five

Reed

APRIL

I’m counting down the days until I land in Portland. If I needed any further proof that I want to be there, the extra time in Coralville provides it. This place chafes the same way it did when I was a teenager.

When I announce that Daddy Knight Productions is switching to archive only, a surprising number of fans come out of the woodwork to support me and my new ventures. It’s a happy shift, for the most part. Except Kinley becomes relentless. She calls nonstop, hounds me however she can, bombards me on social media until I suspend the DKP account entirely.

When I go to Portland, I’m changing my number again and starting fresh with Petra.

The only thing that has kept me sane over the last two weeks are the hours I spend on the phone with her. We call nearly every morning, after work, and before bed. Each conversation leaves me longing for more. Each step she takes to move forward makes me proud, and pushes me to do the same.

Each phone call makes me fall more in love with her. When she hangs up, I ache to call her again. If I could, I’d spend all day with her voice in my ear.

She was pulling away—I could feel her stretching away from me and taking my heart with her. If she hadn’t answered by that weekend, I would’ve switched my flight to speak to her in person. But my cheeky Pet merely needed a tug to snap right back to me. She’s my rubber band, and no way in hell am I letting her pull away again. I’m addicted to her laugh, her sigh, her mischievous smile, her hands on my skin.

But Petra is at work, and I promised Amanda a family lunch today. I bring a pack with my recording equipment, hoping to get some giggles out of the girls. The world constantly surprises me, and not having my mic is like being naked—unprepared.

I offer to pick Mom up and drive her to lunch. Her cheerfully blue front door is so her , and leaves me guessing what Petra might choose. Cream can’t possibly be her real favorite color.

Mom greets me with a hug and a smile. Her inquisition lasts the entire car ride to the park. Apparently, she gave up trying to get me to slow down and is now light-speed ahead. “When is your storage pod arriving at the house? How is the neighborhood? What’s the crime rate? Is this a starter house, or will you be there for a while? What does Petra do? What are her parents like? Does she want babies? Do you have a guest room?”

I miss when she was reprimanding me.

I dodge as many questions as I can, but when we get to the park, I practically leap out of the car to give Amanda a hand. “How’re my girls?” I ask, swinging Brooke into my arms before I lean in to plead with Amanda. “Save me!”

Amanda laughs and pulls Mom in for a hug. “Did he show you pictures of the house?” Amanda asks, spurring Mom on. “It’s beautiful, though it needs some work.”

“I want to see,” Mom says, picking up Janie. “Don’t you want to see, Janie?”

“I want to see!” she yells. Sighing, I pull out my phone and scroll through photos of the new house. Janie gets bored fast, and would rather join Brooke on the slides. “She’s pretty,” Janie comments as I swipe out of my photos so Mom can put her down. My home screen is the photo of Petra and I in front of the waterfall .

“Is that her?” Mom asks, pulling my phone closer. “Do you have more? She has pretty eyes.”

I’ve never seen prettier eyes than Petra’s, but if we scroll through all my photos she’s going to see Petra’s silky, bare spine exposed above crisp, white sheets. When Mom prods me for more, I pull a face at Amanda.

“Mom, we need a selfie!” she says.

I take the opportunity to stick my phone in my recording bag and lock it in my car. It’s the only way to avoid hours of them swiping through my phone, and at least with my recorder in hand I can still soak up these moments.

“I want one with all three of us, too. Get in here, Reed! Oh, it’s so cute! I’m going to tag Grant, too, and shame him for never visiting .” Amanda cackles. “Going to eat your favorite BLT without you, jerk. #CoralvilleisbetterthanChicago.”

I roll my eyes at Amanda, and Mom and I walk to the play structure to look after Brooke and Janie. They don’t need us as they race across the equipment with several other kids. It’s not until Mom and I settle on a nearby bench that she pesters me again. “Send me the photo of you and Petra at the falls, Reed. You look so happy. I love seeing you so at peace.”

“I will later,” I promise. “I left it in the car. Better to be present with you guys than on my phone.”

“New concept for you. Is that what Petra is like?” Amanda asks, eyebrows raised.

I envision her, bent over a book, or daydreaming, or constantly needing headphones. But within a few days, she dropped most of that, coming alive in the real world—experiencing people, nature, intimacy. “Not at first, but yes. Absolutely.”

Amanda hums, watching the girls play. “I’ll give her a chance.”

“That’s all I’m asking for,” I say. Mom squeezes my knee, and I wish Grant was here to make us complete.

The girls don’t let us sit for long. They want a dragon to chase them, a war horse to ride on, and a wicked stepmother to lock them away. Their imaginations are immense, and they use us as their cast of characters. It’s Petra’s world too, and I’m getting my first real glimpse inside it. No wonder she wants to write middle grade fiction—there are no rules. Anything goes, and strangely, the darker the better.

After playing for a while, the girls get cranky and hungry. “Should we go to Bluebells to get root beer floats?” I offer.

“Yes!” The girls shout, and pull us eagerly down the street. I smile, hand in hand with Janie while the sunshine breaks through the clouds. The moment is even more precious since I’ll be leaving them in a few days.

“You’ll sit next to me, right, Ree-Ree?” Janie asks, eyes big and pleading in her little face.

“Of course. No place I’d rather be.” I set out my microphone, and lunch is raucous, full of chaos, laughter, and fun. It’s rare that Mom joins in this much, and I embrace it.

I need to remember to visit more often. Petra will fit right in, the way I did with her family. It would be easy to blend them together—even the girls playing with Antonio and Lilly. My imagination skips ten steps ahead. I’d dragged my feet in all my other relationships, debating whether they warranted lifelong commitment. With Petra, there’s no hesitation.

“I don’t know what your life plans are anymore, but you’d make an incredible father, Reed,” Mom says after I help Janie finish the maze on her paper menu.

I purse my lips. “I’m not as confident. But if Petra’s heart is set on babies, I’ll need to step up.”

Mom’s eyebrows shoot up. “I didn’t necessarily mean with Petra. You’re really set on her, aren’t you?”

I’m lucky that Mom’s begun to warm to the idea of Petra. Hearing about our daily conversations has eased some of her fear. I needed her support more than I realized, and having it is a comfort. “More than anything.”

“Then I want to meet her soon. Don’t keep her to yourself.” Mom squeezes my arm. “You’re not your dad, you know. You won’t have the relationship with your children that he has with you. ”

“Petra said something similar.”

Mom nods. “Sounds like you don’t believe either of us. I know him, Reed. I loved him. I need you to remember that there is so much of him that I fell in love with, and all those good parts are in you. All my good parts are in you too. Dad made poor choices, and you watched him like a What Not to Do guide. If that’s what’s worrying you, don’t. You have a beautiful heart, and you will raise your child to have a beautiful heart as well.”

I avoid her eyes as a ball of something hot sits in my throat and blocks all my words. Janie’s sweet face is flushed as she reaches eagerly for a root beer float that’s way too big for her little hands.

What would it be like for her to be mine? Or a little girl with curly, chocolate brown hair and long eyelashes? A little boy, with a mischievous smile and dark freckle marks across his skin?

I’d want either of them. Both of them. Or, if that’s not possible, the baby could look completely different—pale and blonde, or deep skin and tight curls, or espresso eyes and blue-black hair—and I’d be happy with that. I think Petra would too.

The lump in my throat eases. “I’m glad we had you to steady us all those years. I know it was difficult.”

Mom places her hand over mine, quiet in the midst of all the noise around us. “I’m sorry we put you through it. We set you up for your relationship with Kinley. Your father didn’t abuse me, but I tolerated mistreatment and forgave wrongs. I should’ve stood up for us. I trained you to accept behavior that is unacceptable.”

I sit back, a cold wave washing over me. “No, Mom, that wasn’t—you didn’t do anything wrong. You can’t blame yourself for Kinley.”

“Are you saying you don’t blame yourself either?” Mom asks. “Or do you hate yourself for letting her in without knowing what she would wrought on you?”

I don’t have to answer to confirm it. I brought Kinley into our lives—I exposed the whole family to her crazy. She’s the mistake that I can’t seem to leave in the past .

“If you say it’s not my fault,” Mom says, “then you also need to understand that it’s not yours.”

Mom pats my hand before turning her attention to Brooke. Janie pulls on my sleeve, trying to show me something on her coloring page. I smile and join in, but my brain is preoccupied. Do we all feel this way? Responsible for choices that weren’t ours to make?

I’m still considering it as we walk back to the park to run off the girls’ sugar rush. “Push me on the swing, Uncle Reed!” Brooke demands, laughing, and the girls race across the grass. There is a group of people standing together as their children play—two uniformed officers among them.

Mom wastes no time squeezing herself in the thick of it. “What happened?”

“A series of break-ins along the block,” an officer answers. I don’t know how we missed it, because when I focus beyond the group, it’s evident. A smash and grab, affecting several cars. My heart sinks as I walk toward Amanda’s car, anticipating the worst. Sure enough, two windows are smashed, Amanda’s bag is gone. When I go to my rental, my bag is gone too.

My phone . Recordings with Petra, photos with Holly, texts with Grant when my life fell apart. My passwords and account logins. They’re all gone. I slam my fist into the side of the car, but it doesn’t help.

“Reed?” Amanda asks. “Oh, crap, this is awful. And the girls’ tablets are gone. I gotta call Ethan. Thank God we all have our wallets.”

I nod. “You should call your insurance company. Damn it, my phone . I can’t call anyone. I don’t even know Petra’s number.”

Amanda purses her lips, already calling Ethan. “Is it backed up to the cloud? They’ll download it all and put it on your new phone.”

“What a nightmare.” I’m already resigning myself to five hours at the store to replace my phone. When they say it’s less than two hours, they’re lying. Amanda’s right, though, and I can get most of that information back. On top of that, my laptop is still in my hotel room, safe and sound .

My rental car is a complete afterthought, but the windows on it are smashed, too. “We’re going to need copies of the police report,” I mention to Amanda, who is quickly breaking into tears while on the phone with Ethan. “This is not how I envisioned my afternoon going.”

An officer joins us to take photos and add our information to their report. “Any luck finding the stolen items?” Amanda asks. “I can track the girls’ tablets.”

“Definitely try it,” the officer says, “but all the electronics from the other vehicles have been wiped. They moved fast.”

It’s disheartening, for sure. I could try to ping it from my laptop, but the chances are, it’s gone. Thank God for the cloud. It’s a long time before all the police forms are filled out and insurance is called. Ethan takes everyone back to Amanda’s house, except me. I drive the forty minutes to exchange my rental car and buy a new phone—which does, in fact, take forever.

When I get back in the car, it’s dark out. I’m both exhausted and immensely relieved to have my phone back in my hands. I send a quick text to update Mom and Amanda and then call the person I want to talk to most. She doesn’t answer, but when I try her again, she picks up.

“Hey, Pet, how was your day? Better than mine, I hope… Pet?”

But what she says makes my whole world blur out of focus and drop out from underneath me.

“What?” I ask, stunned. My stomach goes into freefall, and bile rises in my throat.