Forgiven (Ruined) (3 page)

             
The meeting ends on an up note.  Everyone's looking forward the rest of the semester, and it doesn't look like anyone intends to quit just because Reed turned the station over to me.  Dexter offers his help getting up to speed on some of the reports the University requires.  Reed showed me a lot of that before he left, but rather than saying so, I accept Dexter's offer.  Best to keep everyone in my camp that I can, because that glare from Tabby left me worried.

             
Still, if that's the only worry I have, I'm doing good.  That, and the math class Reed's no longer in with me.  How am I supposed to get through math without help?

             
General chorus of goodbyes, estimates of when things will be done.  Tonight's on air schedule is set to go – news at 6:00 followed by recorded programming that can be left in the hands of engineering students.  I am officially off duty!

             
And hoping Kellan will be waiting for me at home.  He's been moody lately, surfing late at night, sleeping late into the day, snapping at Bruce who wants him to commit to something – finding a job, pursuing a career, taking classes.  I can see Bruce's point of view.  He wants his son to get his feet back under him and get back into the world.  Prison must be terrible but in one way it's very sheltering.  There's a schedule in place that doesn't get broken.  No decisions to make.  No choices to weigh.  Coming back out has to be a shock.  No wonder recidivism is so high.

             
But while I understand Bruce's feelings, I understand Kellan's, too.  He wants to get his feet under him in a different way.  Bruce has seen the episodes of the forgiveness series that I taped, the ones with Jake and his father talking about forgiving Kellan for what happened, the ones with David Reynolds.  He'd have had to be living under a rock not to have seen them even if I hadn't shown them to my family on purpose.  The things have gone viral.  Not sure how they got on the internet, but they're taking off there, too.  There are tons of imitators out there.  Doesn't matter – we're going to go on with the series for now, end it at semester break and start looking for whatever we'll do spring semester. 

             
Maybe a
Girls Gone Wild
type thing, I think.  It would be nice to get away from guilt for a little while, my own and everybody else's.

             
I gather up a light sweater, my bag, my laptop, my phone.  My wits.  They're a bit scattered.  Maybe all that's up with Kellan is that he
is
processing the last of the guilt, the fact that whether or not he's determined to be a light in this world, he still
is
in this world.  He has chances that family will never have.  Maybe that's it.

             
I can't help thinking there's something more.  He's been – furtive.  Hiding something. 

             
Maybe he's cheating on me.

             
No.  He hasn't had time.  I'm probably closer to cheating than he is.  Not that we ever said we're exclusive.

             
Something I kind of wish we'd determined before Reed came back, so soon after leaving. 
             
Like now.  When he takes my arm.  Smiles down at me.  "See?  That wasn't so hard."

             
I smile at him.  "So you're going to come back for all our production meetings?"

             
He laughs.  "You so don't need me to.  You're doing fine!  I knew you would."  He's leading me to the door, into the stale hallway. 

             
"Mostly," I say, not kidding anymore.  "But I think I have a problem."

             
Reed raises an eyebrow in question as we step out into the blinding afternoon.  It's early October and the weather in Charleston is still very warm. 

             
"Tabitha," I tell him as he takes my arm, leading me to the beach.  The University is only blocks from the water.  I can walk down to the hard sand, walk home in no time at all.  "Did you see the glare?"

             
Reed links his arm through mine like we're an old married couple.  Something that familiar and comfortable shouldn't feel that hot, but I'm aware of every place his body is touching mine.  The way my hair, red tints in the blond catching the light, flies out and tickles his bicep.  The way his muscled arm feels under mine.  The way our hips bump together as we walk down the steps to the city streets that will lead us to the sand.  The weather is perfect and in the distance I can see the glint of the Atlantic.  I'd like to spend the day laying on the beach in a bikini, bronzing and taking with Reed.

             
Kellan.  With
Kellan
.

             
But Reed's my friend.  And I've missed him.  Just that fast I'm imagining again the times he took me to the station and turned the lights off in the production room and turned on piano music and we lay together, listening, not having to talk, connecting on higher levels before our mouths connected. 

             
I sneak a look at his mouth.  His lips are always just tilted into a smile, like he's about to laugh.

             
"What are you thinking?" he asks, teasing.

             
Flustered, I stumble into speech.  He wasn't supposed to catch me staring.  "About Tabitha.  Do you think she thinks that we're together and that's why she – why you – "  Happily, I manage to stop.

             
"We aren't," he says gently.  "We didn't.  Almost, but that doesn't count.  And not for lack of trying."

             
Oh, god, I didn't mean to lead the conversation here.

             
He tugs my arm, getting me moving again.  "Come on, I'll walk you home, and on the way I'll tell you the tale of Tabby Cat."

             
"There's a tale?"

             
"All cats have tails," he says and I groan at the lousy pun.

             
Sand under our feet.  The beach is hot.  I've kicked off my shoes.  Charleston is an international city with a flare for fashion.  But it's also a beach town.  Nobody asks questions if you're attending a college that's just off the beach and you dress so you can go there promptly.  I could have gone in to the production meeting in a suit.  Instead I went in wearing red Capri pants and a grey tunic top.  I was wearing sandals and now they swing from their straps in my free hand.

             
"Tabitha is a perfectly good news director," Reed says seriously.  He's let go of my arm but somewhere along our journey he's taken my hand.  I like the contact.  His hand is warm and strong.  "She should have been a logical choice for me to at least consider when I got the job in Boston."

             
Is it my imagination or is there the slightest quiver in his voice at that?  He doesn't know, I'm sure of it.  Doesn't know that when he chose me to go to broadcasting conference with him in Boston that his father tracked us down, and threatened to expose my family secrets to all and sundry if I didn't stay away from his son.

             
Actually, his father had uncovered my past after Reed had.  Reed is a reporter, after all, first and foremost.  Despite it, he'd asked me to go with him to the conference and when we got there, our two room reservation had been canceled and we had one room with one bed.  It really sounded like the
It Happened One Night
type scenario, or the old "We've run out of gas, honey," line boys used to use, but it was true.  There was another convention in town and there were no other rooms. It was just bad luck that Emmy had called while Reed was showering and talked to me about sex and Reed and then my phone rang so immediately after she hung up that I answered asking if she had more sex tips for me.

             
And it was Reed's dad.  Henry Tate Miller.  Big time attorney.  Opinionated ass.  And of the opinion that money can buy anything.

             
Apparently it can.  Because he used it to buy Reed away from me.  He let me know that, too.  He arranged for the job for Reed, threatened me into silence about it, got Reed out of Charleston and out of South Carolina and said if I did anything to stop it, he'd tell the entire Charleston community about my past.  He'd ruin Bruce.  And my mother.

             
And me.

             
So that's one reason Reed's appearance surprised me.  The other is he'd been falling for me before he left and me?  I'd been confused, wanting both Reed and Kellan, one as damaged as I was, the other off limits but promising a much less complicated future (well, aside from his father).

             
Then Reed was out of the equation.

             
Was he back?
             

             
He stops at a low wall that forms a border between sand and street and pats the spot next to him.  I hop up and sit, swinging my legs.

             
"Tabitha is."  He makes a moue with his mouth and seems to consider what he was going to say.  "Enthusiastic.  And lazy."

             
That makes me laugh.  "How can anyone be both?"

             
"Easy, if they're creative."  He's looking out at the waves washing in, so I'm able to study his face.  He's lost some of his tan, working in Boston, but he's still golden and hot.  He turns to me then, smirking a little as he catches me staring.  "She gets great ideas.  And they are great, for a station with a full staff and a big budget."

             
"Which we don't have," I say contemplatively.

             
"Which you don't have," he agrees, changing my words.  Just a little.  But big change in meaning.  "It's not just the budget.  She gets ideas but she has no follow through.  So she starts whatever it is and then walks away.  Having not formed even a committee to work on it.  If she'd started your documentary series – "

             
I hiss. 

             
He laughs.  "She'd have interviewed several people, gotten in their faces and lives, then forgotten whatever the second half was.  And she wouldn't see a problem.  Hey, some people got to vent.  Or some people got to forgive.  Or to seek it.  Or whatever."

             
I don't remind him I'd already been working at the same station he was before he left.  I just listen. 

             
"Doesn't explain the glare," I say.

             
"Yes, it does," he disagrees, jumping down to the sand.  He reaches up for me, meaning to lift me off the low rock wall.  I've already started to jump down myself, so I'm not quite where he expects me.  One of his hands brushes my breast.  Instant fireworks below. 

             
We never got any farther than kissing and petting and preliminaries and all systems were still go in me.  Wanting to explore.  I'd lost four years, keeping myself not just some kind of vestal virgin but keeping myself away from life of any kind.  Kellan and I had backed off a little, taking things a little more slowly.  Not all that difficult with him being all withdrawn and out surfing all night.  The parts of me Kellan – and Reed, before his father interfered, before he went away, before I chose Kellan – had awakened were crying out for attention.

             
Too bad for them.  Reed is my friend.  He left in part because I made it pretty clear we were never going to be anything but friends. 

             
It's all right
, I tell myself.  Not believing it.

             
We walk on together.  "Be careful of her.  It's because I didn't think she'd work out as  operations manager that I gave that to you.  If she's mad, she'll try and backstab you."

             
"Terrific," I say sarcastically.  "Just what everyone wants to hear at the start of their first job in their chosen career."

             
Reed laughs, takes my hand again and swings it, which suddenly felt more than friendly.  I consider dropping my sandals, giving myself an excuse to let go of his hand, taking one shoe per hand as we walk on, but we're getting close enough to my house there isn't any reason to let go.

             
Until there is. 

             
Kellan's wetsuit is rolled down to his waist, far enough down to see the grooves of muscle that lead down so tantalizingly on a guy with a six-pack.  Bronzed skin shines with sea water.  His dark hair is tangled and shoved back.  He holds his surfboard under one arm.

             
His eyes are unerringly on me.

* * *

             
I feel Reed freeze up next to me.  It's the way the muscles in his arm go hard and tense.  He doesn't say anything.  His breathing doesn't even change.