35. Reagan

Chapter 35

Reagan

T he store’s entrance seems to swallow us whole as we step inside, the scent of new fabric luring us in. I can feel the excitement buzzing through our group, and I can’t help but smile. Reese’s eyes widen with delight, taking in the endless racks of clothes that promise a world of possibilities. I told him he didn’t have to, but Penn insisted that Reese take his black card and buy whatever the two of us wanted. She’s been stuck in those drab pleated skirts and navy sweaters from her private school for so long. I wanted her to have some things she can express herself in.

“Alright, Reese, let’s find you something badass,” I say, scanning the room for any piece that would suit her. Oakley and Iris agreed to skip their classes and come along with us, which I’m grateful for. Iris is so preppy and Oakley so soft and girlie that I think we can all help Reese find her own style.

“Reagan, they don’t have fishnets or combat boots in here,” Iris chides me playfully, earning a laugh from Oakley and myself.

“Nope, but guess what they do have?” I retort, spotting the perfect item. I grab a sleek leather jacket from a nearby rack and hold it up for Reese to see. “Try this on. Embrace your inner edgy goddess.”

Reese hesitates for a moment before shrugging and taking the jacket from me. Slipping into the smooth leather, she looks at herself in the mirror; the jacket fitting her petite frame perfectly.

“Wow, Rae, I didn’t think I could pull this off, but it actually looks really cool,” she admits, studying her reflection with newfound confidence.

“See? I knew it’d look amazing on you,” I tell her proudly, my heart swelling with affection.

“Nice choice,” Oakley interjects, holding up a flowy dress. “But what about something like this to go under it? It’ll bring out your softer side, Reese.”

“Ooh, I like that one too,” Reese agrees, reaching for the dress.

“Wait!” Iris interrupts, brandishing a pair of booties. “You have to try these on too. I’m mad they don’t have my size.” She playfully pouts.

I can’t help but smirk at Iris’s enthusiasm, and I tell my sister, “Alright. The store is yours. Go wild.”

“Thanks,” Reese grins, heading for the fitting rooms with her arms laden with clothes we’re tossing at her as we move through the racks.

As we watch Reese disappear behind a curtain, I can’t help but marvel at how she’s grown over the years. She’s still sweet and innocent, but there’s an underlying sassiness that makes me proud to call her my sister. And now, surrounded by friends who care about her, I feel grateful for the support system we’ve found here .

“May the fashion gods be with her,” I whisper, smirking as Iris and Oakley laugh in response.

Reese emerges from the fitting room in a new outfit, a mix of my edgy style, Oakley’s whimsy suggestions, and Iris’s preppy chic. The juxtaposition of styles has us all grinning, but there’s something undeniably captivating about the way she pulls it off.

“Yes, Reese! You’re fucking killing it!” Iris puts her fingers up to her mouth and makes a shrill cat call.

“Thanks, Iris. I like this combo, too.” Reese blushes and twirls, the flowy skirt billowing out around her.

Iris smirks, flicking her long hair behind her shoulder. “A little bit of all of us, I’d say. Not a bad combination to have. It’ll have boys eating out of the palm of your hand,” she says with a wink.

“What do you think?” Reese glances my way with a knowing smile.

“You look cool as fuck,” I admit, returning her grin. It’s moments like these that make me feel truly blessed to have Reese in my life.

Turning to Oakley, she cocks her head to one side. “Did you see those viral milkmaid dresses over there? Looks like they’re getting ready for spring.”

Oakley cranes her neck, and her eyes widen. “Oh my God, Jeremiah will love those.” She gets up and heads toward the rack of pink and floral ruffles that you couldn’t pay me to wear.

“I don’t think they make them in his size,” Reese jokes, her eyes sparkling with genuine admiration that Iris and Oakley have taken the time to come with us today. “I can’t wait to develop my own unique look. I don’t know what I like. I’m so used to wearing my uniforms or my dance outfits, but even those are pretty drab because they have to match the school dress code.”

“Alright, let’s find you some more outfits!” Oakley exclaims, clapping her hands together, her petite frame overpowered by the dresses she has piled up. “We’re just getting started.”

“Thank you, guys. Seriously,” Reese says with a smile that reaches her eyes, exuding confidence and excitement as she heads back to the fitting room.

A big brooding man catches my eye as I rifle through a rack of purses, searching for the perfect accessory to complete Reese’s outfit. The store is full of shoppers, but my eyes focus on Ramsey as he tries to blend his large frame into a store overrun with women half his size.

“Reagan!” Reese calls out excitedly as she emerges from the dressing room, her arms laden with clothes. “What do you think about pairing this choker with the bodycon dress?”

“Looks great,” I respond absentmindedly, my focus still fixed on the entrance where Ramsey Blackwood is lingering. Why is he here?

“Something wrong?” Reese asks, noticing the tension in my expression.

“Nothing, don’t worry about it,” I reassure her with a forced smile, not wanting to tell her he’s here until I figure out why. Is he spying on us for his cousins? He’s trying to blend in, casually leaning against the entrance, which makes me think it’s nothing urgent. It’s clear he’s here for one reason and one reason only, to keep tabs on us.

“Excuse me for a sec,” I tell Reese, placing a reassuring hand on her arm before making my way toward Iris.

“Hey, Iris, do you mind if I talk to you for a minute?” I ask, trying to keep my voice even .

“Of course, what’s up?” she replies, concern etched on her face.

“Ramsey’s been lingering by the door,” I say, annoyance seeping into my voice. “I checked my phone and no messages from Penn, so I don’t think anything bad happened.” I leave out the fact that I do have messages from Penn, but they’re just him asking me to send him pictures of me naked in the dressing room.

Iris chuckles, her laughter carefree, as if a grumpy behemoth isn’t shadowing us. “Oh, that. Well, Ramsey is their designated watchdog since he’s the youngest. When we want a girls’ day, it’s just a given that he’s gotta walk around and make sure nothing happens to us. He doesn’t try to hide as much as he used to because we know he’s here.”

“Designated watcher?” I scoff, my eyebrows raised in disbelief. “They’re all ridiculous.”

“They’re Blackwoods,” Iris says, her voice softening, “it’s just how they are. They’re protective of us, and that’ll never change.”

Shaking my head, I return to Reese and Oakley with Iris in tow.

“Ready to check out?” I ask Reese, putting on a smile as I help her gather up her selections.

“Definitely!” she grins, her eyes shining with excitement. “Thanks for an amazing day, Reagan. I feel like a whole new person.”

“Anytime,” I reply warmly, my heart swelling with pride as I watch Reese confidently stride toward the register, her newfound sense of style evident in every step.

“Ooh, look at these shoes!” Iris exclaims, picking up a pair of stilettos with a daringly high heel as we stand in line. She holds them up for all of us to see, her eyes shining with anticipation. “Lincoln would round up every guy on campus and cut their eyes out.” She laughs, which seems to be contagious because we all know that she’s not wrong.

“Those would look so good on you, Iris,” Oakley remarks, her voice laced with admiration. “I wonder how tall I’d be in those. I’d break my neck before I could move three feet in those.”

“Can you imagine how worried Jeremiah would be watching you try to walk in those?” I chime in, my eyes scanning the racks of clothing before me. The way Iris agrees, and Oakley giggles makes me feel like I’m really part of the group now because my assessment of Jeremiah is spot on. It doesn’t take long for anyone to see that Jeremiah’s whole personality is protecting Oakley.

“Reagan, what do you think of this dress?” Reese calls out, holding up a slinky red number that will hug her curves in all the right places. I raise an eyebrow, impressed by her bold choice.

“Oh my God, yes,” I say, grinning at her enthusiasm. “You’re going to turn heads in that one.”

“Thanks,” she replies, her cheeks flushing with pride. “I figured it was time to step out of my comfort zone.”

We pay for our purchases and make our way out of the store, laughter and banter filling the air. I can’t help but feel grateful for this girls’ day out, despite the ever-watchful gaze of the Blackwood spy.

“Hey, Ramsey!” Reese calls out suddenly, her voice full of candy-coated sass. I turn to see her waving at the hockey boy with a mischievous grin on her face.

“Since you’re just standing there, how about being a gentleman and carrying our bags? They’re getting awfully heavy,” she teases, batting her eyelashes innocently .

I hold my breath, curious to see how he’ll react. Ramsey’s face contorts with feigned annoyance, as if he’d just tasted something sour. He tips his head back and pinches the bridge of his nose, seemingly trying to stifle an exasperated sigh.

“Fine,” he grumbles, reluctantly walking over to us. With a begrudging expression, he takes the shopping bags from each of our hands, his brawny arms quickly filling with the spoils of our retail therapy. “But that fucking bodycon bullshit is getting burned when we get back to the house.”

“We’ll see about that,” Reese grins at him.

“I’m serious. Shredded and burned. Did you get her a sweater? All I saw were strappy dresses that look more like crop tops,” Ramsey mutters, glaring at me. “Look, they’re having a sale. Maybe we’ll find something for her in there,” he points to Outdoor World as we pass by and sure enough, they’re having sales on men’s hunting jackets and overalls.

“You carry the clothes, you don’t get to pick them out,” Reese says, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Good thing I can fucking fight,” Ramsey grumbles as we head toward the exit of the mall. I chuckle at Ramsey’s grumbly attitude to Reese’s choice in dresses and exchange a knowing glance with Iris and Oakley. The three of us share an unspoken understanding about the Blackwoods and their antics.

“More like fighting for your life,” Oakley says gently, trying to stifle a giggle over his clear discomfort.