Reagan sighed and took a sip of her wine before she answered. “It’s hard, you guys, even now that we’ve, you know, done it.” She blushed then continued, “I still find myself wondering if one day he’s going to wake up and realize I’m not who he wants. You can’t simply erase so many years of thinking your body isn’t good enough with the snap of your fingers.”
Anna nodded in understanding. “You’re right, you can’t. However, what you can do is, remember that your happiness is worth the risk. Has Chase given you any reason to think he’s not serious?”
“Of course not. He’s been amazing,” Reagan protested Anna’s accusation.
“Then why are you doubting him and doubting yourself?”
Reagan shrugged uncomfortably. “I guess it’s just my automatic response. Which seems a bit stupid.”
Callie jumped to her defense. “Not stupid, it’s just what you’ve always done. And it’s hard to give up a lifelong belief pattern. Believe me, I know.”
And Reagan knew she did. Callie had struggled for her entire life with wanting to please her impossible parents and meet their expectations. It was only with the love and support of Jake that she was able to realize that her mother and father would never care for her as anything more than a tool for them to use for their own benefit. Letting go of her desire to win their love had been difficult, but Callie had been able to realize that the family she created with Jake and with her friends, was far more rewarding than the family she was born into.
“Reags, you’ve been by my side as I figured out my crap with my parents, and I’ve been by your side as you’ve struggled to believe in yourself. I wish there were some magic wand I could wave, so that you could see yourself the way we see you. I hate that you don’t believe you are the beautiful, kind, smart, funny woman that we all think you are.”
Reagan smiled sadly at her best friend before reaching out to wrap her arm around Callie’s shoulder. “I love you, Cal, and I love that you wish that for me. The truth is, I have spent my life thinking my body made me less attractive to the men I wanted to be with. But Chase is proving me wrong.” She paused thoughtfully before continuing, “I guess I just have to have a bit more faith in him. That’s all.”
Anna spoke up, quietly. “Having faith in a man, when men have done nothing but hurt you in the past, is the hardest thing to do. But if there’s any guy that I would trust to be honest about his feelings—aside from Ryan and Jake, of course—it’s Chase. The guys trust him, and they are good judges of character. And if you could see the way he’s always looked at you…” Anna’s voice trailed off as she fanned herself comically.
The other ladies laughed, and they all took a sip of their wine before Reagan said, “I promise, you guys, I’m doing my best to just relax and see what happens with Chase. We certainly are compatible in the bedroom, I guess we’ll see what happens outside of it too.”
Melanie raised her glass to the others. “As long as he treats you well, makes you feel beautiful, and can get you off every time, he’s worth keeping around.”
Callie raised her glass in response. “Cheers to that.”
Reagan shook her head and laughed at her friends. “You guys are crazy, and I love you.”
“But not as much as you love Chase’s lovin’ am I right?” Callie teased.
“Oh my god, Cal. You’re terrible,” Reagan groaned.
“But I’m right! You have to admit I’m right,” Callie protested.
“Fine, you’re right.”
* * *
Chase spent his evening doing something he hadn’t done in years. He was writing music. Being with Reagan had unlocked his creative muse, and lyrics and melodies were flying out of him. It had been so long since he had written anything that made sense, that he still couldn’t quite believe it when he played one of the pieces back to himself and realized it had serious potential.
A drummer by necessity not by choice, Chase had always loved playing guitar and singing, with song writing being his outlet for processing his experiences both good and bad, ever since he was young. It was a little-known fact that he had written many of the songs that made Black Star the sensation they were.
He could still remember the foster father who had first taught him to play the guitar, after recognizing Chase’s natural ear for a melody. That had been one of the happier families he had been with, and for a while life was good. But as often happened he was forced to move on to another family. His passion for music went with him and, even without an instrument, Chase would write song after song filled with pain and emotion. His way of expressing himself to a world that didn’t seem to care what a teenage boy had to say. In high school he had fallen in with a group of boys all trying to find themselves. They had made plenty of stupid decisions but starting a band wasn’t one of them—at least not at first. Black Star had done them all a lot of good before it all went wrong. For once in his life, Chase had felt important and successful. Since the other guys also played guitar, Chase had agreed to learn the drums, and once again his natural musical talent had served him well. No one would have guessed that his passion lay with the guitar not the drums.
When their lead singer Bryant died of a drug overdose, Chase had felt his creativity dry up instantly. It wasn’t just the grief of losing a friend, it was the reality of where his life was headed that smacked him in the face. He was headed down the same road that his mother had been on when she got pregnant with him. And it was a road that never ended well.
Before she died of cancer when he was a young boy, his mother had never told him anything about his biological father, just that he wasn’t around. But their life was one run-down apartment after another, and an endless parade of sketchy guys coming asking his mom for things that as a kid he didn’t really understand. She had managed to stay clean for her pregnancy, but had slipped into her old habits after Chase was born. She managed to be a good mother when she was sober, but as time went on those periods became farther and farther apart. Then when she got sick, she managed to stop using again. Unfortunately, by then it was too late. Cancer had taken over her body, and she only lasted a few months before succumbing to the disease. Later on, as an adult, he had put the pieces together and realized his mom had probably been knocked up by a guy she had just met, while they were both using drugs. So, when Bryant died, it was enough of a wake-up call for Chase to walk away from that life and those temptations.
It was months after Bryant’s death before he felt the urge to play an instrument again and when he finally did, he could not bring himself to go near a set of drums. Instead, he went back to what was comforting and picked up a guitar. Still, writing anything new was not even on his radar, until today. Now, filled with a sense of peace he had never felt before, Chase felt lyrics and melodies surge from his heart and onto the paper.
After several hours hunched over his guitar, Chase blinked his eyes wearily, as if he were coming out of a deep sleep. He looked around his apartment and chuckled. Pieces of paper were balled up and thrown everywhere. When his stomach growled, he realized he had not eaten in a while. He wandered into the kitchen and made a sandwich which he took out onto his balcony to eat.
Outside he took in the view from his apartment. He could see the city stretched in front of him, glowing with lights. He wondered how Reagan’s evening with the girls had gone. With a glance at his phone he saw it wasn’t quite midnight.Maybe she’s still up…he thought then grinned to himself. How long had it been since he was this eager to talk to a woman? He opened their text window and began to type.
Chase: Need me to come and cuddle you, Red?
Reagan: Need? Or want…
Chase: Either one works for me. How was your night with the girls? Did you talk about how amazing I am?
