Chapter 12

CHAPTER TWELVE

REED

After dialing Knox, I managed to pace a path up and down in front of the bench, waiting for him to answer. I was only distantly aware of where I was—of the sunlight shimmering through the trees and the cool fall breeze making the bare skin of my forearms tingle.

"Hey there, stranger!" Knox answered. His cheerful tone had me bracing my hand against the back of the bench in relief. "Good to hear from you."

"I just got the message you left with the… with my company. Is everyone okay?" I demanded. "Did something happen?"

"No, Reed. Everyone's fine ," he said firmly. "And that was the first thing I told the person who took the message, but I guess they didn't relay that part, huh?"

"No," I said, my heart rate slowing to its normal rhythm. "They didn't."

"Ah, well. Those are the breaks when you have a fancy-pants secretary who takes messages for you, eh?" Knox teased.

A muffled voice cut in. "They' re not called secretaries anymore, Knox. God." Gage Goodman, my brother's boyfriend, sounded like he was pressed against Knox's side… which tracked since the two of them were generally inseparable. "They're administrative assistants. Saying secretary makes you sound really fucking old."

"Thank you so much, Goodman," Knox said dryly. "What would I do without your advice and support?"

"Lucky for you, you'll never have to find out," he said happily. "Now, ask Reed about the thing and stop stalling."

"I wasn't stalling. I was reassuring him that we were all fine and then easing him into a conversation. In fact, I'd already be asking him if it weren't for you interrupting?—"

"By all means, continue stalling by claiming how you're not stalling," Gage said eagerly. "This is fascinating, baby. Next-level stall tactics right here. I learn so much from you."

Knox heaved a sigh. "Never fall in love, Reed," he grumbled. "It starts out all hearts and flowers, then when it's too late to pull back, you realize you've signed on to spend forever with someone who won't hesitate to call you on your shit."

"It's hell," Gage agreed. "Now, ask him ."

I shook my head, amused. "Ask me what?"

"What my beloved means," Knox said, "is that there was an incident here in town last week?—"

"Incident?" Gage squawked. "An incident could mean anything . An incident could be a… a traffic jam. Or Mrs. Hendelmann's cat sneaking into Jack's diner to give birth again. Or the cows in the orchard pasture finally staging the coup I know they've been planning for months, even though no one believes me. This was no incident, Knox—this was a potential felony . Right here in our beloved Little Pippin Hollow." He gave an aggrieved sniff.

"You know, Goodman," Knox said. "Some guys might not think it's sexy that you sound like my third-grade teacher when you clutch your pearls like that, but not me. No, sir. Your little squawks and gasps of outrage really do it for me."

Gage squawked again, and I heard a muffled thump , followed by Knox's laughter.

"You are so fucking lucky I have a thing for lumberjacks," Gage said hotly.

I snorted. "I miss you guys," I blurted. "I mean, I know I just saw you a week ago, but… you know I love you, right?"

Both men went quiet for a minute, and I rolled my eyes as I imagined them exchanging one of those silent, speaking glances that people in relationships seemed to master.

"I'm not dying," I put in. "I just had a… a moment , after I got your message. I thought someone was hurt or whatever, and I realized I really need to make an effort to call more. Tell you about my life. I want you guys to, ah… know me better, I guess."

I wasn't sure where all of this was coming from. Chris would probably say I was overwrought . Possibly freaked-out . The idea made me smile reluctantly.

"You could move back to the Hollow, you know," Knox said. "I did. It's not Boston, but…" He paused, and when he spoke again, the smile in his voice told me he was looking at Gage. "…it has certain attractions."

"See, now, I don't think he needs to move home just because he misses you guys," Gage countered. "I appreciate my family way more since I left Florida. I still get all the Whispering Key weirdness on the group chat, but now I've also found a place where I really fit. Not to say that the Hollow's not weird, too, in its own way, but it's my kind of weird." He added sagely, "Life's all about embracing your own personal weird, Knox. "

"So true," Knox agreed. "And I do embrace you, Goodman. Regularly. But Reed?—"

" Reed ," I interrupted, "is going to jump through the phone and strangle you both if one of you fuckers doesn't explain the felonious non-emergency you called me about. Immediately."

There was the sound of a brief struggle like they were fighting over the phone. Apparently, Gage won, because he put the cell phone on speaker and spoke next.

"See, Reed, the thing is, Norm Avery claims he saw you kidnap someone outside the Bugle last week. One of the servers left town about a week ago?—"

"Chris," Knox put in.

"Not Crys," Gage said impatiently. "I just saw her yesterday."

"I mean Other-Chris," Knox said. "The one who helped Webb at the orchard. The guy who does those cheese board things… what do you call 'em?"

"Charcuteries," I mumbled.

"Charcuteries," Knox confirmed. "Thank you. That's the word."

"Ohhhh," Gage said. "Right, right! The quiet one. Keeps to himself a lot. Sweet, but kinda… I don't know if boring is the right word, exactly, but… well, boring. Except for the Ale-pocalypse." He snickered. "That was a hoot. Anyway, I guess that's the guy. He hasn't been around, and the last time anyone saw him was?—"

"Are you serious right now?" I exclaimed, standing up again. One of the most gorgeous, quirky, sweet, intelligent, and genuinely funny men on the planet had lived in the Hollow for half a year, and that was what they remembered about him? How the hell had they gotten the idea that he was quiet ?

When Chris said he hadn't fit in the Hollow, I'd thought he was being modest. I couldn't imagine anyone not liking him—hell, even when I'd tried not to like him, I couldn't help it, and God knew every woman, child, and man in Copper County had adored Chris at first glance. But from what Gage was saying, he truly hadn't fit there any better than I did.

Boring? Chris ? Good Christ. If the man were any more exciting, my heart couldn't handle it.

"Calm down, Reed," Knox said, misunderstanding the reason for my outburst. "The fact is, Chris might have left of his own free will—nobody in town knows him well enough to say for sure except Van, and Van's gone camping. Norm claims he saw someone get in your car and that you peeled off… but since Norm was about four pints deep at the time and had already done his ‘in beer, there's freedom' schtick, nobody's paying attention. And nobody has tossed around the word felony ," he added, "except Goodman, here. You know how some people in town love drama?—"

"I do not love drama!" Gage insisted. After a second, he admitted, "I might like drama. Drama and I are dating . But we're not in a committed relationship or anything. Nobody's using the L-word."

"Thank you for clarifying, baby," Knox said. "Anyway, Reed, I— we —figured there'd be no harm in contacting you to see if you had any information that could clear this up. I don't suppose you happened to give him a ride somewhere or if he mentioned where he might be heading?—?"

"Or kidnapped him and stuffed him in your trunk because you suspected him of crimes?" Gage teased.

"For fuck's sake, Goodman," Knox said witheringly.

"What? It happened in season five of John Ruffian: Pretender . There were these vigilantes, and… Okay, okay. Yeesh. Stop with the look. Reed knows I'm kidding," he protested. "You know I'm kidding, Reed, right?"

I couldn't respond right away. What the hell was I supposed to tell them? More lies, obviously. My Great Wall of Lies was already big enough to be seen from outer space. What were a few more?

I gritted my teeth and started with a truth. "I didn't kidnap anyone."

"Of course you didn't," Knox said.

"What happened was…" I began slowly, hoping for inspiration or, ideally, an interruption.

But when my deliverance came, it was in the worst possible form.

"Mr. Sunday!" a familiar voice called from way too close by. "Hey, Mr. Sunday! How's your husband doing?"

I turned and saw Derry Bartlett, aka Mini-Watt, bearing down on me, wearing a huge, goofy smile and a Camden-O'Leary High School Hockey sweatshirt.

Shit . Had my brother heard?

"Knox?" Gage whisper-shouted. "Knox, did he just say husband ? As in Reed 's husband?"

"I think he did," Knox said grimly, removing all doubt.

"I swear to God, if two of your brothers get married before we do, Knox?—"

Summoning a smile for Derry, I tried to tune the others out. "Uh. He's good. Much better. Thanks for asking. Hey, now's not a great time—" I gestured with my cell.

"Oh, sure," Derry agreed easily. "I get it. Just please tell Chris we're thinking about him, okay?"

"Chris!" Gage hissed. " Chris , as in?—"

"Yeah," Knox said. "I know."

I closed my eyes briefly. "Yeah, I'll, ah… le t him know. Thanks again ," I said, trying to subtly convey Go away without actually hurting the kid's feelings.

But Derry was as impervious to subtlety as his father. He rocked up and down on the balls of his feet, still grinning. "So, my dad said you're doing an awesome job renovating the cabins. Let me know if you need any help with the construction, okay?"

"Will do," I said. "But I think we're good."

"Construction!" Gage whispered again, so loud I had to pull the phone away. "Knox, he said construction."

"Shhh," Knox insisted.

"That's cool!" Derry said, happily unaware that he was the wrecking ball single-handedly dismantling a wall fifteen years in the making. "Oh, hey, Thursday night, a bunch of us are going out to Bennett Graham's house to watch the Draconid meteor shower. He's got an observatory at his house—or, like, in his house, actually—and it's kind of a Copper Country tradition for some of the families who live around the lake to head over there. Maybe you and Chris want to come, if you're not too busy doing, ah… honeymoon stuff."

"Honeymoon! Knox, did you hear?—?"

"Baby, despite my advanced age, my ears do still work," Knox hissed. "I don't know what any of it means , but I hear."

"Derry," I said desperately, gesturing with my phone again. "I'm a little busy."

"Right! Right . Sorry." With another cheerful smile, he stepped away, and I turned my mind toward damage control.

"Except before I go…" Derry turned back around. "I just gotta say, it kicked ass the way you jumped in the lake to save your husband the other day. Like, seriously so impressive, man. Like you were his bodyguard or Navy SEAL or something."

"I'm, uh, definitely not a SEAL. I just… you know…"

"Love him?" Derry smirked. "I can tell."

"I…" I opened my mouth to deny it, then closed it again. "He's special," I said in a whisper.

"Sure. Anyway, see you!" This time, Derry finally did lope off… about a minute too late.

"Hooooly shit, Knox," Gage whispered. "Holy shit."

"That about sums it up," Knox agreed. "Reed, when you said you had things to tell us…"

"Yeah." I tilted my head back and glanced up at the sky. White, puffy clouds shifted by, heedless of the destruction below. "But I can't tell you anything right now, Knox."

"You can't ?" he repeated slowly. "Or you don't want to?"

I swallowed hard. "Can't," I said, though I knew this admission, coming on the heels of Norm's accusations and Derry's revelations— "like you were his bodyguard"— would pretty much kill any idea of me being a mild-mannered think-tank accountant.

There was no Division requirement that my family couldn't know what I did for a living, as long as I didn't share details. It had been my choice to keep my two lives separate. But I couldn't discuss the details of an ongoing assignment, so I couldn't open the door any further than I already had right now.

Nervously, I awaited Knox's judgment and anger over my lies.

But when he spoke again, all he said was, "Jesus fucking Christ. Porter was right, wasn't he? That fucker bet me a hundred bucks you were some kind of secret agent back when he was fourteen, and now I'm gonna owe him, with interest. I can't believe I didn't see it."

I didn't know what to say , so I remained silent.

"Right," Knox went on, all no-nonsense now. "Look, we won't tell a soul about this conversation?—"

"Agreed," Gage said readily.

"—and I don't expect you'll ever be able to tell us anything, but you'd better tell us what you can when you can… and soon. Otherwise, I'll hunt you down, Reed. Don't think I won't. I'm still your big brother."

"I know you are." My voice came out scratchy and weak, so I cleared my throat and tried again. "I'll call."

"Good. You better fucking take care of yourself, too," he demanded.

"And take care of your husband ," Gage said gleefully. "Maybe include him on the call, also, hmm?"

After we said goodbye, I hung up and blew out a breath I'd been holding for fifteen years. I slid my phone into my pocket unsteadily.

The trouble with letting people believe you're someone you're not is that eventually, it feels impossible to correct them… to even know how to begin. I'd started out keeping my job a secret, compartmentalized and tucked away, but I'd told myself it was no big deal because I was protecting my real life—my family—from my work. Gradually, though, my work had taken larger and larger chunks of my time and focus. Had become my life. I'd been so deeply committed to being Agent Sunday that I'd forgotten who Reed Sunday was.

Until now.

Because over the past week, I'd found myself remembering. Remembering the hobbies and interests I hadn't made time for. Remembering my friends and family, the ones whose safety I'd prioritized so much, I'd cut them out of my life. Remembering the decisions I'd always said I'd make sometime in the nebulous future about whether I wanted a partner, or children, or a permanent home. Remembering… well, me .

And it had felt fucking strange at first, let me tell you. Like the pins-and-needles feeling of blood rushing into a constricted limb. But Chris's words at the dock the other day kept coming back to me— it's like he doesn't want anyone to know him— and that wasn't the way I wanted to live…

I just hadn't realized it until this sweet, sweet man had crashed "entirely unpredictably but low-key unavoidably," as Chris himself might say, into my path.

And so… I'd talked to him. I'd shared with him. More than I had in years because Chris was so easygoing and open, it was hard not to reciprocate.

So, in between episodes of John Ruffian the past few nights, I'd opened up. I'd told Chris stories about growing up in the Hollow.

I'd told him what it was like having a big family—how there was always someone around or underfoot, and I'd have killed for quiet and privacy—and then felt a little shitty about how much I took my siblings for granted when Chris explained how quiet his own childhood had been.

I'd told him what it had been like when my dad remarried and then, later, when my stepmother, the only mom I really remembered, left town.

I'd even told him about Seth and my first blowjob in the Grove back home, describing the awkwardness in detail because Chris was strangely fascinated by my teenage antics, and hearing him laugh out loud made me feel lighter.

Talking to my family today, just taking that first step toward telling the truth, made me feel lighter still.

Because it turned out Chris was right. There was something pretty fucking amazing about having people know you. See you. Accept you. Care about you. It was worth the risk to let yourself be seen.

As I walked back to the car to wait for Chris, I knew I should have been thinking about my job like the professional I claimed to be—checking my email to make sure Janissey had come through with the proof I'd asked for, anticipating ways that Dante and Nicky and the Evanoviches might still pose a threat, wondering what the new assignment Janissey mentioned might involve.

Instead, all I could think about was taking Chris back to the campground, laying him out on our bed in the cabin, and showing him that I saw him , every awkward, adorable, magnificent inch of him.

And then maybe Thursday night, I'd take Chris to Vega's uncle Bennett's house so the man could watch a meteor shower without having to steal a telescope to do it. Because Chris made things pretty and soft for other people and deserved to have people make things pretty and soft for him.

So lost was I in thoughts of Chris that when I heard the man himself calling my name excitedly from down the block, I turned to greet him with an unrestrained smile on my face…

A smile that died when I saw him leaning out the passenger-side window of the world's largest and ugliest RV, grinning from ear to ear.

"Guess what, Reed?" he shouted. "I found us campers !"