16. Reagan

Chapter 16

Reagan

“ H ey, Reese. How’s dance been going? I haven’t seen any new videos.” I ask as she appears on my phone screen. I flop down onto the unmade bed, surrounded by the chaos of this bedroom. Clothes are scattered across every surface, and punk band posters adorn the walls, an ever-present reminder of my defiance. If my dear husband is going to make me live here, I’m going to decorate just like I would in my apartment. He can look at the sweaty naked torsos of Chaos Theory glistening in all their glory while he’s posturing.

“Ugh. It’s fine, I guess. I miss you though,” replies my sister, her sweet face filling the screen of my phone. “We could run away to the beach, you know. I’ll learn way more from you than from some stuffy school. Like, why am I forced to wear a freaking uniform?”

“Trust me, kiddo, you’re safer there than with me right now.” My eyes meet hers on the screen. “I’m doing everything I can to make sure things are better for both of us.”

Reese sighs, seemingly deciding not to argue with me about it, but I see the confusion on her face as her eyes scan the wall behind me. “Where are you? Your walls look different.”

Just as Reese is about to reply, Penn saunters into the room, shirtless and smirking. He’s never been one to respect boundaries or privacy.

“Who’s this?” Penn asks, nodding toward my phone with a mischievous grin. The motherfucker knows exactly who Reese is.

“You researched my whole life, and you know exactly who this is,” I snap back, rolling my eyes. Typical Penn, always trolling, probably even in his sleep. I feel like he has to be immortal because he’d exhaust even the devil.

“Reagan, who’s that?” Reese’s voice pulls me back to our conversation. Nothing but curiosity in her voice.

“Ugh, just some guy,” I mutter, hoping she’ll drop the subject. The last thing I need is my little sister asking questions about the likes of Penn Blackwood.

“Nice to meet you, Reese. I am just some guy,” Penn says playfully, yanking the phone from my hand before I can react. His eyes dance with amusement as he addresses Reese. “Just some guy she married. Not for love though, you know how much of a prickly pear she is. She married me for my guns.” He flexes obnoxiously, mirroring one of my Chaos Theory posters, telling me they do irritate him as much as I’d hoped they would.

“Give me that!” I growl, reaching for the phone, but Penn easily dodges my attempts, laughing all the while. Damn his height and agility.

“Hey there, little sister-in-law!” Penn grins mischievously into the phone screen, making my heart sink as he cheerfully talks to Reese. He flashes his hand and his wedding ring in front of the camera, and I can’t help but feel a jolt of surprise at its appearance on his finger. I very much like to pretend it doesn’t exist, but something about the way he wears a ring gets to me, on some basic level that I don’t want to psychoanalyze.

“Give me my phone, you ass!” My voice comes out as a hiss, but Penn just chuckles at my annoyance, dodging my attempts to snatch the phone from his grasp with ease. The look of bemusement on his face makes my blood boil even more, but I can’t quite deny the thrill of our impromptu game.

“Fine, nice talking to you little hellion,” he drawls, finally relenting to my demands and handing back my phone. But not before shooting me one last infuriating smirk before sauntering out of the room, leaving me to simmer in my own frustration.

“Reagan,” Reese’s voice breaks into my thoughts, her brows furrowed in concern. “Why didn’t you tell me about getting freaking married? Like what the…”

I hesitate for a moment, my pulse still racing from Penn talking to my little sister. How do I find the right words to explain the strange, complicated relationship between us? It’s a challenge, even for someone as adept at persuasion as me.

“Kiddo, it wasn’t something I planned,” I say, my voice softening as I try to convey the urgency of the situation. “I married him on a whim, but there’s a reason. You know how Dad is…I needed to protect you and Penn, as weird as that may sound, can help with our plan.”

I can see the worry in Reese’s eyes, as she tries to wrap her head around the concept. My heart aches for her; she’s been through so much already. She’s a kid and deserves just to be a damn kid. “I promise you, everything I’m doing is for our future and to make sure we’re safe. ”

Tears well up in Reese’s eyes, and her voice cracks as she speaks. “I know, Reagan. I trust you. I love you, but I’m seventeen. You can tell me things. I don’t always need to be coddled and kept in the dark.” I don’t say anything, because I don’t know what I can possibly say. She doesn’t deserve to live every day worrying when Dad is going to show up to fuck her entire life up. “Rae,” she whispers again, her voice thick with emotion, “thank you for always protecting me.”

I reply, my own voice wavering, “I’ll keep you safe, no matter what. That’s what big sisters are for.”

“Yea, they are. You and your scary boyfriend…err husband I guess. Gosh, I have a scary big brother now.” My heart and my gut clench at the same time because if she only knew how scary he really is. I have no doubt if someone fucked with my sister and I told him about it, he’d kill them. I wouldn’t even need to barter for it. He’d happily do it while whistling with a skip to his step.

We exchange tearful goodbyes, promising to video call again in one week. The weight of responsibility presses down on me, but there’s also a sense of relief. I’ve told her the truth, at least part of it, and she understands. My sister is a good fucking person, and I refuse to allow anyone to taint that.

With a surge of frustration, I burst out of the bedroom and down the stairs, determined to confront Penn. He’s lounging on the couch, grinning like he knows exactly how much he’s gotten under my skin.

“Are you happy?” I demand, unable to hide the annoyance in my voice. “Introducing yourself as her new brother-in-law? Seriously?”

“Aw, come on, Raeeeeee,” Penn teases, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “You should have proudly told our lil sis I’m your husband. That’s exactly what I am. And you, my little hellfire, are my wife. ”

“Shut up, Penn,” I snap, my temper flaring. “This isn’t funny. My sister is worried about me, and you’re just making everything worse.”

“Your sister will be fine,” he retorts, his smirk never wavering. “Besides, it’s not like I haven’t rearranged your guts. Legally, on paper and in the eyes of ‘Christianity’ we are married. And if we’re married, everyone’s going to know that you belong to me. Do I need to fucking mark it on you?”

My face flushes with anger, but before I can offer a scathing reply, Penn grabs my hand and pulls me outside. His motorcycle is parked there, gleaming in the moonlight.

“Speaking of what’s mine,” he says, handing me a helmet. I hesitate for a moment, torn between wanting to continue our argument and feeling a strange thrill at the prospect of getting to go for a ride. He stands behind me and braids my hair quickly. I could be annoying and goad him about this, but honestly it’s fucking nice to have someone do this for me. Something so simple yet so profound.

“Where are we going?” I ask, reluctantly fastening the helmet onto my head.

“We’re going for a little scenic ride,” he replies cryptically, leaving me even more confused. But something about that mischievous glint in his eye tells me he’s playing with me but to just go the fuck with it. At least I know he’s not actually setting out to kill me currently.

I climb onto the motorcycle behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist as he revs the engine to life. As we speed off, I can’t help but wonder what kind of trouble we’re about to get ourselves into. And despite my lingering irritation with Penn, I find the words to tell him, “If you’re about to show me your dead body collection, I swear I’ll cut your dick off while you sleep.”

He laughs, his whole body shaking, and I don’t know if he’s laughing at the absurdity of my words or if he’s tickled that I’ve guessed correctly.

It could be minutes or hours. I don’t really know or care. My mind is elsewhere when the motorcycle comes to a sudden halt. My body jolts against Penn’s muscular back, as I glance around, my surroundings slowly come into focus. We’re in a parking lot near the university campus, dimly lit by flickering streetlights.

“Is this what you consider scenic?” I ask, irritation creeping into my voice as I try to make sense of his cryptic comment from earlier.

“Something like that,” he replies with that infuriating smirk of his. Then, following his gaze, I see him walking toward a random car. “This car belongs to the guy who flirted with you in class just the other day.”

“Wait. Are we here because of him?” I question, suddenly uneasy. It seems too strange to be a coincidence. Nothing about the Blackwoods is a coincidence.

“My wife is so smart.” Penn’s voice is dripping with mock praise. “That motherfucker had no business putting his hands on what’s mine.”

“First of all, I’m not your real wife,” I snap, my anger flaring up again. “Second, what do you plan on doing? Key his car? That’s petty even for you.”

“Keying? Oh, Reagan, you underestimate me. I would never do something so banal. It’s almost like you don’t know me.” Penn reaches into his backpack and pulls out a small canister of gasoline, a wicked gleam in his eye. “I have something much more…explosive in mind. ”

My heart pounds in my chest as I watch him unscrew the cap and start pouring the gasoline over the car. Part of me wants to stop him, but another part—an unfamiliar, darker part of myself—wants to see the flames licking at the shiny paint.

“This is a little much, don’t you think?” I ask, because I want to know how his creepy, fucked up mind works. I’d love to be inside his brain, even for a few minutes. “For flirting with me?”

“Flirting? He brushed up against you without my permission. That’s not flirting. That’s a death wish. He’s lucky I didn’t duct tape him inside the car before I set it on fire.” Penn lights a match and holds it up, watching the small flame flicker for a moment before tossing it onto the gasoline-soaked car.

The vehicle bursts into flames with a sudden roar, the heat hitting me like a physical force. My body trembles with fear and satisfaction as I stare at the blaze, unable to tear my eyes away. The fire is hypnotic, consuming everything in its path—just like my life since meeting my fucking husband.

“Happy now?” I ask shakily, glancing over at Penn. Despite the chaos he’s caused, his entire body seems as if it’s filled with amusement, and I find myself begrudgingly admiring his boldness.

The air crackles with heat as the guy comes barreling out of the nearby building, his face twisted in panic as he takes in the sight of his flaming car. Penn’s laughter rings out, and I can’t help but stare at him in horrified fascination. There’s something raw and primal about the way he’s reveling in the chaos.

“Jesus Christ!” the guy screams, unable to comprehend what’s happening before his eyes. “My fucking car! ”

“And this is my fucking wife,” Penn smirks, not bothering to lower his voice. His eyes dance with mischievous delight as he watches the scene unfold, and I find myself caught between wanting to slap him and kiss him senseless.

“Maybe we should get out of here before someone calls the cops,” I suggest, trying to ignore the strange thrill coursing through me. This is reckless, even by my standards, but there’s something undeniably satisfying about watching the guy who crossed boundaries pay the price.

“Little bitches like this don’t call the cops on a Blackwood. Unless, of course, he wants his tongue cut out,” Penn says with a devilish grin. He grabs my hand, intertwining our fingers tightly, and pulls me away from the spectacle he’s created.

“Blackwood, you motherfu—” I watch as my husband’s entire body shifts. No longer amused, but it’s like a switch was flipped.

“Aht, aht Jeremy Johnson. Son of John and Bethany. Who live at 1745 Grape Road. Would you like to finish that sentence? Or would you like to tell my wife here that you aren’t going to utter a fucking word about this?”

I watch fascinated, as the guy just clams the fuck up and nods his head, averting his eyes from the larger-than-life man before him.

With one last look at the burning car, I let Penn lead me back to his bike, leaving behind the flickering orange light and the desperate screams of the guy who dared to touch something that belongs to Penn Blackwood.

“Now, remind me again if you think I won’t take care of what’s mine, baby,” Penn whispers, his breath hot against my neck.