18. Reagan

Chapter 18

Reagan

N ormally Penn’s the one who’s in control, the one who keeps his cool no matter the situation. He plays up his eccentric behavior, but beneath that show he puts on for everyone is an unshakable exterior that I can only suspect is the work growing up as the son of Robert Blackwood. Thinking about what he did to Penn to shape him into the monster he can often be makes me shiver. But now, standing in front of me, it’s clear that something has rattled him and shattered his composure. We have rarely seen eye to eye since the day we met, but right now I want to console him. I want to make this better, even though that’s not my role here.

“Hey,” I say gently, placing a hand on his arm. “What’s going on?”

Penn’s eyes are wild as he stares at me, struggling to find words. “It’s Graham. He’s…he’s in the fucking hospital. I don’t know what happened, but it’s bad.”

“Shit,” I mutter under my breath. Though I barely know Graham, I can’t stand Penn most of the time, but it’s hurting me to see him like this. His vulnerability pulls at something deep within me, and that fierce protective instinct kicks into high gear. “Well, what the hell are we doing then? We gotta go to the hospital. I’m coming with you.”

“Really?” Penn looks at me, surprise etching across his face. “You don’t have to do that, Reagan.” Not his wife, Mrs. Blackwood, or even hellfire. He needs me to be with him right now.

“Of course I do,” I tell him, leaving no room for argument. “I want to. For you.” The words hang heavy between us, as if acknowledging our connection is a risk we’re both hesitant to take.

“Yeah, okay,” Penn says quietly. His eyes right now are more brown than green and meet mine with gratitude. And maybe something more, something deeper that I dare not put a name.

“Let’s go then,” I say, trying to shake off the unsettling feeling that I might actually care about Penn Blackwood—dangerous, charismatic, wildly inappropriate and definitely psychotic Penn Blackwood.

The sterile scent of antiseptic assaults my senses as Penn and I step through the sliding doors of the hospital. Ramsey drove me and the girls while the Blackwood brothers went with their coach.

“Give me your hand. I need you to keep me on fucking earth,” Penn says, his voice barely above a whisper as we approach the nurse’s station. I comply without any thought, and he links my fingers with his. I lean into his tall frame, and I don’t know if I’m trying to comfort him or seeking comfort myself. I watch as he puts on his most charming smile, his finger stroking the ring on my finger signaling that I belong to him. The nurse looks up from her computer, her eyes narrowing slightly as they take in Penn’s disheveled appearance.

“Can I help you?” she asks, clearly unimpressed by whatever charm offensive Penn is attempting.

“We’re here to see Graham Blackwood,” Penn replies, trying to keep his voice steady despite the underlying tension.

“Are you related to Graham? Only immediate family members are allowed in his room, I’m afraid,” the nurse informs us, her tone firm but not unkind. My heart sinks at the news, knowing that Penn needs all the support he can get right now. But rules are rules, even when they seem utterly unfair.

“Just tell me what room he’s in. He’s my little brother.” Penn says, holding himself back from getting snarky. His hazel eyes meet mine for a brief moment, the uncertainty there making my chest tighten. The nurse gives us the information, but the look of disapproval of Penn’s manners doesn’t go unnoticed by me.

When we get to the hallway in front of Graham’s room, I don’t know why I do it, but I grab Penn’s shoulders, pushing myself up and brushing my lips against his. “I’ll wait here,” I tell him softly, as if there were any chance I’d leave him to face this alone. He gives me a small, grateful smile before disappearing into Graham’s room.

As I lean against the wall, arms crossed defensively over my chest, Iris and Oakley walk through the floor’s doors and stare at me. Their faces are etched with worry, and I can’ t help but feel a pang of empathy for them. We may not be family by blood, but we’re all bound together by our concern for Graham right now.

“Any news?” Iris asks, her voice quivering slightly.

“Only that they won’t let me in with Penn,” I reply, my frustration evident.

“Jeremiah raged and Lincoln made two nurses cry, and they wouldn’t let us in either.” Oakley mutters, running a hand through his hair. “How are you holding up?”

“Honestly, really worried about Penn. He’s unpredictable at the best of times,” I admit, swallowing hard as I try to keep my own emotions at bay. If the situation was flipped and it was my sister laid up in the hospital, the absolute animal I would be until I got some answers would be unbearable.

“It’s tough,” Iris agrees, her gaze distant as she stares down the hallway where Penn disappeared. “Almost like you’re really his wife.” She nudges me with her elbow, clearly trying to lighten the mood.

“Almost,” I say, giving her a small smile. If there’s one thing I’ve learned throughout my tumultuous life, it’s that when the chips are down, you find out who you can truly rely on—and I refuse to let Penn down. “Does anyone know what actually happened?”

Before either of them can answer me, Jeremiah comes out of Graham’s room looking like he’s ready to bulldoze the entire hospital and he heads toward the nurse’s station.

“I should—” Oakley starts, and I shoo her away because she definitely needs to go leash her guard dog before we end up on the news because he tossed a nurse down an elevator shaft. Iris shakes her head with a small smile shot my way before she follows suit.

A heavy silence hangs in the air, punctuated only by the occasional beeping of medical equipment and the hushed footsteps of hospital staff. I see Jeremiah at the end of the hallway, his large frame stuffed in a chair and Oakley standing in front of him, stroking her hand over his head in a calming gesture as he presses his face against her abdomen. I can only imagine what he must have been like before he found her, because from what I’ve seen, she’s the only thing that calms him down.

“Hey,” Oakley says as she approaches, and I realize that Jeremiah is entering Graham’s room again. Attempting to break the somber mood, Oakley asks, “how about we grab some coffee or something? It might help take our minds off things for a minute. What do you say, Reagan?”

I consider the offer, torn between the need for a distraction and the desire to stay close to Penn. Despite our differences—or perhaps because of them—I find myself drawn to him, seeking solace in his presence. As much as I want to put distance between the crushing weight of reality and me, I know where my loyalty lies right now.

“Thanks, but I think I’ll stay here,” I tell Oakley, the organ behind my ribs swelling and making my chest feel crowded all of a sudden. “I want to be here for Penn when he comes out.”

Oakley nods, understanding etched on her pretty face. “I get it. Just let us know if you need anything, alright?”

“Will do,” I respond, offering a faint smile before they disappear down the hallway toward the cafeteria. I’m left with the sterile scent of the hospital seeping into my very bones as I stand here, waiting for my fake husband. My fingers drum against the wall, a restless energy coursing through me.

“Reagan St. Pierre,” a voice calls from behind me, dripping with condescension. I turn to see Mr. Blackwood, Penn’s father, striding down the hallway like he owns the place. Not a wrinkle of a worry line marring his expression. He’s here to throw his weight around, I’d bet, not because he’s concerned about his son. Any of his sons, I’d venture to guess.

“Mr. Blackwood,” I greet him cautiously, my body tensing at his mere presence. He’s an imposing figure, the kind of man who thrives on intimidation and control but none of the actual finesse of his son.

“Quite a surprise to find you here,” he says, his eyes scanning me with disdain. “You’re really leaning into the dutiful wife role. I’m just surprised that it’s working on my son. He’s not usually one for domestication.”

I bristle at his words, but hold my tongue. Now is not the time to let my anger flare. “I’m here because I care about Graham and Penn,” I reply evenly.

“Is that so?” he sneers. “Well, I suggest you keep your faux sympathy to a minimum. It’s not very becoming.”

My fists clench at my sides, my nails digging into my palms. I want nothing more than to wipe that smug look off his face, but I know it’d only cause more problems for Penn and the rest of us. Instead, I force a tight-lipped smile and say, “I’m not going anywhere. Penn needs me right now, whether you like it or not, and I’m family, after all.”

“Such loyalty,” Mr. Blackwood mocks, his gaze raking over me like I’m dirty. “How touching. But don’t delude yourself into thinking you’re important to this family. You’re just another distraction, and we both know how those tend to end.”

My pulse races, anger boiling beneath my skin. Yet, I refuse to give him the satisfaction of seeing me crack. “You don’t know the first thing about me,” I retort, my voice low and dangerous.

He’s stepping closer until his imposing figure towers over me. “You’d be surprised what I know about you, Miss St. Pierre. If you’re smart, you’ll stay out of my way.”

Something inside me snaps at his threat, a primal instinct to protect what’s mine. I stand my ground, refusing to back down. “Penn is not your property,” I snarl, my eyes locked on his. “I know you did something to him to make him the way he is. You broke him and shaped him into your own personal weapon.”

“Remember that defiance when it comes time to pay the price,” he warns, his tone icy. His dark gaze lingers on me, a chilling warning in his eyes. “You think you’re so clever, don’t you?” Mr. Blackwood sneers, his voice dripping with disdain.

“Excuse me?” I snap, my patience wearing thin. His presence alone is enough to make my skin crawl, and his insinuations only add fuel to the fire.

“Watch yourself, Reagan,” he warns, his voice cold as ice. “You may have weaseled your way in with my son for now, but don’t think I don’t know every little thing about you. Your father has a long reach, but mine is longer, and you’d do well to remember that.”

“Stay away from me,” I hiss, clenching my fists at my sides. “And both you and my father can go straight to hell.”

“Sweet as always,” Mr. Blackwood smirks, clearly amused by my anger. “But you’re playing with demons, girl. And when you get dragged to hell, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Your threats don’t scare me,” I retort, glaring daggers into his cold, unfeeling eyes.

“Is that so?” He raises an eyebrow, challenging me to continue, and I feel the heat rising inside of me, a desire to stand my ground and prove him wrong.

I snarl, straightening my spine and standing tall, despite the tremble in my legs. “No man owns me—not you, and certainly not my father. I make my own choices, and I’ll face the consequences head-on.”

“Brave words,” he concedes with a sardonic smile, stepping back. “But bravery won’t protect you from anything, Reagan. Remember that.”

As he turns to open Graham’s door, I watch him go, my heart pounding in my chest. His words echo in my mind, but they only serve to strengthen my resolve. I refuse to be controlled or manipulated by anyone ever again—especially not him.