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She froze as the melodical tone washed over her, its familiar sound like a balm to her frazzled soul. Dropping her pen, not bothering to stop it from rolling off the table onto the floor, she whipped around to make sure her hearing wasn’t misleading her. Seeing Traci Dunlap standing in the doorway of the kitchen, her smile warm and bright enough to outshine the fear lurking in her eyes, Reagan almost cried. She jumped from her chair and all but tackled her mom in a tight hug.

“Oh, my God. I’m so glad to see you. Are you okay? You look okay. I was so scared with all the stuff happening around here, and they thought whoever was after me and English might come after you. It’s been overwhelming, and all I could think of was what if I never saw you again.”

The words tumbled from her mouth without her registering what she even said. If she let go of her mom, she could explode in a mess of emotions. Thankfully, Traci wrapped her daughter in a tight embrace and waited for Reagan to run out of words. Even then, they stood, hugging each other in silence.

Traci was the first to break the quiet. “Your dad and I are fine. Easton filled me in on everything that’s been going on, and I couldn’t get here fast enough. I’m sorry this happened to English, and I’m sorry he put you in this position. But from what Easton told me, you are handling it all fine. English came through his surgery, and there’s nothing more you can do for him.”

“I know. But why doesn’t it feel like it’s enough? It’s not fair. He doesn’t deserve to have me care like this. He left us, Mom. He abandoned us, and now he pulls me into this life. Mom, there’s so much we didn’t know.”

“I know, sweetheart. We have a lot to talk about.” Traci tightened her embrace, and Reagan allowed herself to find comfort in the moment.

“Can I get in on that hug?”

Reagan looked over her mother’s shoulder and smiled at her stepdad. “Of course. It’s good to see you, Dad.”

After a moment reveling at having her parents with her, she pulled back to look into their faces. They complemented each other so well. Both were tall and slender. Her mom’s dark hair was highlighted with streaks of silver. Her stepdad’s hair was lighter with subtle gray tones, receding a bit from his forehead. Traci was creative but reserved while Randall was outgoing but practical. Traci yearned for spontaneity, but Randall preferred routine. But with their differences, they also had much in common. Both liked to cook and read. Both enjoyed hiking excursions and fishing. Both valued family, and both loved each other more than any two people Reagan ever met. She needed that right now to ground her.

“I have so much to talk to you about. Where are the boys?”

Traci studied her daughter curiously. “Boys?”

Reagan rolled her eyes. “That’s what Easton and his brothers call themselves. Only they’re not really brothers. It’s complicated, which is why I wanted to explain. I would just rather the three of us talk without the others listening.”

“They’re outside. Easton said they wanted to give us a few minutes, but I think they also wanted to talk without us listening,” Randall said.

“It won’t last long,” Reagan said wryly. “Come on. We can talk in the living room.”

Once they were settled — her parents on the couch and Reagan on a leather recliner, Randall regarded her intently, concern clouding his expression.

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

Reagan opened her mouth to reassure them, but the words clogged her throat. Instead, she sighed, feeling her shoulders droop under the weight of her stress.

“Physically, yes. But I don’t understand any of this. I don’t know who to trust or what to believe. I haven’t seen English since I was six years old, but his life is in my hands and his past has put me in danger. And then there’s what happened at the bar.”

“What do you mean?” Traci asked.

Reagan started her recount with being shot at while at the hospital, leading to the need for her to go into hiding. She told her parents how they went to the bar for her to freshen up and were forced to leave when armed gunmen showed up.

“No one seems to know who’s after me or why, but that’s not the most bizarre part.”

“What are you talking about?” Randall asked.

Reagan hesitated, suddenly doubting what she saw. She took herself back to that night, in the alley outside the bar, peering around the corner to see the men milling about in the front, armed with assault rifles, dressed all in black. She recalled seeing the one man stepping from the vehicle under the beam of a street lamp. He spoke with authority to the armed men, and they listened to him. He didn’t act as someone in danger or someone being coerced. She remembered the moment she recognized him, the thick brows shadowing his narrow eyes, the crooked nose and the square jaw she once thought distinguished.

Now she didn’t know what to think. Her memories were clear. She saw him, and there was no mistaking what she saw, even if she couldn’t make sense of it.

“Dad.” She caught Randall’s eyes and held his stare. “The armed men who came to the bar…they were talking with someone. A man, and I could tell he was the one in charge. Dad, it was Terrence Johnson. Do you have any idea why Terrence would be involved in this?”

“Who the hell is Terrence Johnson?”

The voice thundered through the room, startling Reagan violently enough to jump to her feet. She whirled around to see Jackson standing in the doorway leading from the kitchen. His face hardened in a mask of anger, and a muscle in his jaw ticked. He was flanked by the others, Luke on his right, Easton on his left, and Ben behind him. They all watched her with a combination of shock, fury and distrust.

Distrust. The thought stirred her own ire. They considered her untrustworthy for holding back something from them, but they’d given her no reason to trust them with what she knew. The fact they were loyal to her deadbeat father was enough to make her question their integrity. How dare they act like she was the one in the wrong.

“This is a private conversation between me and my parents. You had no right barging in here and demanding anything from me,” she snapped.

“You knew something about the attack at the bar and didn’t tell us? The ones who are risking their lives to keep you safe? What the hell, Reagan?” Jackson started to charge toward her, but Ben’s hand on his shoulder stopped him.