Page 29 of Barrett

“They’d like you.”

I reared back, getting closer to the door. “Oh no. I’m not meeting your parents. We’re not anything. There’s no reason for you to bring up if your parents would approve of me or not.” I was on the defensive now. Meeting his parents? Hard pass. Reghan and I couldn’t be in a relationship, so there was no point meeting the people he was closest to. I already knew his brother. That was good enough.

Reghan’s hand tightened on the wheel. “I’m not asking to introduce you as my boyfriend, Bear. Jesus. I’m just making conversation. My parents love everyone.”

“Including Jordan?” He wasn’t exactly a big ball of sunshine.

“They don’t know him very well. They know what we do, but Raiden and I try to keep them separate. It’s the best way to keep our parents out of the shit Jordan gets himself into.”

“You’re brave. I worry all the time about Marshall.”

“No, I just have a dad who would kick the living shit out of anyone who tried to hurt my mom. You see how protective Jordan is over Hartley and Vail. Apply that to my mom and dad. He’d level anyone who came for her. But my mom isn’t weak. She could beat the hell out of someone if need be. My parents work out together in their home gym. They lift weights, punch the heavy bag, you name it. My mom is kind, but she’d fuck someone up.”

I chuckled. “Okay, maybe I want to meet them a tiny bit.” I shouldn’t. It wasn’t good to get myself invested more than I already was with Reghan. Damn, they sounded great though.

I couldn’t imagine having parents like his. Ones who would fight for those they loved, who would go above and beyond for the people they cared about. Marshall and my lives would have been so different if we had that.

How many nights did I lay in bed and wish we were with our aunt and uncle permanently? How many times did I wish we were born to other people? Hell, I even thought about my parents dying when we were younger and us being free of them. Then we could live with our other family members, the ones who actually gave a shit about us.

“Hey,” Reghan said and gave my thigh a shake. I wanted to push into it, for him to leave it there.

I blinked a few times, focusing on him again. He’d taken the exit, bringing us closer to Dremest. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. You can talk about what’s bothering you.”

“Maybe another time.” Or never. I had to keep reminding myself we couldn’t go there. We couldn’t be more than men who worked together for Jordan. As far as almost everyone else was concerned, Reghan and I didn’t know each other.

“Don’t,” he whispered.

“Don’t what?”

“Close yourself off again. We’ve been doing good. I don’t want to go back.”

“There’s no forward though. Only right where we are.”

“Haven’t you ever lived in the moment?”

I looked out the window and watched as we approached where my car was. I didn’t want to get out of the Jeep. However, staying longer would hurt. It wasn’t easy pulling myself away from Reghan when we were fighting. Now that I knew the other side of him, yeah, I was going to need a crowbar.

“Only when I have to,” I told him. “For work mainly. I'm always planning for a what-if future.”

Reghan pulled into the lot where my car was. He shifted into park and turned in his seat to look at me. “If you’re always planning for the future, you’re not living for today.”

“There’s a lot to be said for security and peace of mind.”

“Sure, but there’s also a whole life you’re missing out on.”

God, I was tired. Bone-deep, wanted to sleep for days kind of exhausted. In my current state, I couldn’t do that. What if the phone rang and I had to go to work? What if Jordan called and needed me? I never knew when I'd be pulled away from home, so I slept on the lighter side, as if my body was waiting to be woken up.

I faced Reghan, my cheek resting against the seat. “I’m doing okay. I have my brother and my job.”

“You’re living for other people. Your job is just that, a job. It’s not all you are.”

“I don’t need a lot. Marshall’s who matters.”

Reghan lifted his hand, paused, then brought it to my jaw to lightly graze his fingers over it. “Who takes care of you?”

For a few seconds, I let him stroke my skin, reveling in the warmth of his fingers on me. I would have thought the first time he touched me, when it wasn’t in anger; I would have had goosebumps break out along my skin. A visceral reaction I couldn’t control. Instead, I immediately relaxed. Reghan was the balm I desperately needed but couldn’t fully give in to. We were already on a dangerous path by going out today. It was a calculated risk. If the people I worked with found out, I’d be questioned. I couldn’t mix with the enemy.

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