Now it was up to me to soothe a whimpering Regina, hiding in the bathroom.
I swallowed the pain bubbling up in my chest, took a calming breath, and carefully turned the knob. The door opened easily. What a surprise, the lock didn’t work. Slowly, I widened the door, until I saw Regina in the tub, curled up, her eyes filled with wariness.
“Can I come in?” I asked, standing at the threshold. I didn’t step into the small space because I didn’t want to add to her anxiety.
Regina was trembling, smashed against the farthest side of the tub, her arms wound tight around her legs. She dropped her gaze to her knees and a soft, barely audible no came through. That one word cut me even deeper than any before. She was afraid of me.
I dropped my ass down in the doorway, my attention never leaving her face.
She didn’t move, or say anything else. Neither did I. We just sat there in the quiet.
I sat there in silence, unmoving for so long that a dull ache settled into my tailbone. When I got up, I caught her flinch. Her negative reaction to me only added to the pain ripping at my heart.
Did someone hurt her? If so, I want to know who.
Nevertheless, I refrained from asking.
I walked away, leaving the bathroom door open. I glanced out the grimy window, trying to spot Decker, but he was nowhere in sight. I figured he either went down to his truck or took a walk to clear his anger. Either way, I hoped he could get his rage in check, because we needed him to get us out of this insane mess we’d been thrust into.
A gut-wrenching sob echoed from the bathroom and had me rushing to Regina. She trembled violently. I didn’t care if she hated me; I still loved her. Without hesitation, I reached into the tub and scooped her up. I climbed in, managed to contort my big, bulky frame until I sank back down, and cradled her in my arms.
Rocking back and forth, I murmured to her all the wonderful things we used to talk about when we were kids. I refused to let her go—even when she struggled to get out of my arms. It was a futile effort on her part—I was much stronger and more determined. She eventually quieted down, even though her tears didn’t stop flowing.
Decker appeared in the doorway. “Is everything alright?” All of his bravado and anger were gone. Or tucked away.
“For now.” I stared up at my best friend, my own eyes filled with unshed tears. I had never seen our girl so broken before. She’d always had a sweet disposition and loads of self-confidence, and it killed me to see her folded in on herself.
I was ready to take on the world, just to make her smile.
“Give her to me,” Decker said.
“Don’t yell at her,” I quietly demanded.
“I won’t,” he replied softly, with his arms out.
I reluctantly passed Regina to him. She didn’t protest. He left the bathroom and headed to the bed. He laid her down in the center of the full-size mattress and spooned himself against her back. Decker pointed to the other side of her, silently telling me to lay down.
At first, I wasn’t sure if I should. Deciding, I climbed onto the bed and we sandwiched Regina between us like we used to when we were kids, whenever she had been upset, especially pertaining to her mother. That last summer at the Honey Pot was the worst.
Her breaths fanned my neck, which, in an odd way, eased my worries. I kept my left arm at my side, and watched her.
Decker gently stroked her short dark brown hair. “I miss the blond,” he whispered, and Regina stiffened like a board between us.
“It doesn’t matter what color hair she has, our Regi is still beautiful,” I countered, hoping she’d relax, but she neither moved nor spoke.
Regina’s eyes closed, her breathing evened out, and her clenched fists eventually relaxed.
How ironic, we were right back to where we were, before all hell had broken into our lives more than a decade ago.
I lifted my head and glanced across the bed, and met Decker’s eyes. With unspoken understanding, I slowly slid off the mattress and so did he.
Once I covered Regina with the blanket from the other bed, I followed Decker outside and quietly closed the door.
“Something happened to her, I know it,” Decker grated out. “And we need to find out what.”
I glanced at Decker as he stared at the early morning sky. The profile of his handsome face hadn’t changed much since he was young. Although the fine lines etched in the corners of his eyes made him look dangerous, I supposed that came from life as a hitman.
I trusted no one else but Decker Moss with my life—with Regina’s too.
