Page 134 of Distress Signal

“I’m sorry about your sister. I have four myself, and I have no idea what I’d do if one of them went missing. Likely tear the world apart then burn it down searching for them.”

“Thank you. We recently came across some new information that generated more leads,” Reagan replied, her voice gaining confidence. “But everything is on hold because of the wedding.”

“Fuck the wedding,” Delia said emphatically.

Frankly, I agreed with her. Crew and Aspen vowing themselves to each other forever was important, especially given all the shit they’d endured both together and apart. But I failed to understand why we couldn’t continue working on Lainey’s case. Why did all of us have to drop everything for an entire week leading up to the ceremony? Wasn’t there an event planner better suited to put out any fires that arose?

“You wouldn’t be singing the same tune if one of your sisters was getting married,” Owen retorted.

“All of my sisters are already married, QB,” she remindedhim. “But you better believe, if the choice came down to celebrating a wedding or finding a missing sister—it’d be no contest.”

I glanced at Reagan, finding the truth of that statement reflected in her eyes.

Knowing without a doubt she was only putting on a brave facade in the face of all this wedding stuff because she loved me. It had absolutely nothing to do with anyone else.

We spentthe first few days after Owen and Delia’s arrival running around the ranch like chickens with their heads cut off. Mainly, we were getting the barn ready for the reception. West had even closed the dude ranch for public bookings, instead offering his cabins at a discounted rate to anyone traveling long distance to Dusk Valley for the wedding.

On Thursday, two days before the ceremony, we finally handed over control of things to the wedding planner—which we should’ve done from the start, if you asked me, not that anyone did.

Family dinner that week had been moved up a day in deference to the big rehearsal dinner planned the next night, so afterward, we decided to go out to celebrate. A joint bachelor-bachelorette party of sorts. And where else would we go but the Swallow?

“You okay with this?” I asked Reagan. We’d come home after dinner to change before heading into town, and Crew would be there to pick us up shortly. The question was prompted by her still casted arm and the haunted expression she’d been wearing since that first conversation with Delia five days before.

“Of course,” she replied easily, and I didn’t detect any hint that she was lying.

“If it gets to be too much, emotionally or for your arm, say the word and we’ll?—”

She cut me off with a finger to my lips, which she shortly replaced with her own.

“I know, Finn. You got me.”

When she tried to pull away, I held fast, capturing her mouth with mine again, taking the kiss deeper than the one she’d given me.

“Have I told you how incredible you look?” I asked against her lips, snaking a hand up her thigh.

I nearly swallowed my tongue when she walked out of the closet earlier. Her dress was a blue and white gingham pattern, tight across her chest and torso, flaring out at her hips. Paired with brown boots and her hair in long, soft curls down her back, she was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen.

Outside, a car horn beeped, derailing my hand’s path to her cunt.

Reagan pushed me away with a giggle, both of us gasping for air.

“C’mon,” she said, tugging me toward the door. “If we don’t leave now, we never will.”

“I’m okay with that.”

“Your family won’t be.”

To punctuate her point, Crew laid on the horn again, far longer than was necessary, alerting us to his impatience.

“Saved by the bell,” I muttered.

Reagan stopped dead in the doorway and turned to me, curling her fists in my shirt, expression surprisingly stern.

“You’re saving me, Finn. I don’t need savingfromyou.”

I covered her hands with mine and leaned in for a light kiss.

“Love you.”