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Reagan can’t remember the last time she laughed this hard.
Beer shoots up her nose as she doubles over in an attempt to contain her laughter, but it’s hard to stop when Brett is cackling just as hard as she is.
It’s another ordinary night. Well, as normal as it can get for someone who’s in charge of running the deep state. After a day of covering up a bunch of Fresno Nightcrawlers sightings, Brett showed up at Reagan’s house with their favorite Chinese takeout and a movie. It’s his night to choose, and so of course he picks another cheesy 80s movie.
It had become a routine ever since everything with Ron went down, a few months ago. Brett quickly picked up on Reagan’s feelings and became the distraction she needed. They started having more family dinners each week. Suddenly it became a habit to eat dinner together and unwind from work, whether it be takeout, at a restaurant, or even in the office. Reagan has already told him, but it’s become one of her favorite parts of the day. It’s nice to have something to look forward to when everything feels so dull and gray.
The movie had ended hours ago, yet they’re still swapping stories and sharing jokes as they slowly get drunk. At least, Reagan is getting drunk. Brett hardly ever drinks more than two bottles, and even then he still doesn’t appear very tipsy.
Reagan leans her head back and smirks. “I won’t lie, that’s the best part about being in charge. I can view all the footage of my dad and that dick JR looking like complete idiots in Shadow Prison.”
Brett’s own laughter finally dies down and he grins at her. His hair is finally beginning to become ruffled after the long day. He’d also taken off his suit jacket and tie at some point, adding to the disheveled look. Even while messy, he managed to pull off the look. “I can’t believe Shadow torture included a deadly version of Wipe Out. All I know is that Glenn definitely didn’t come up with that one.”
She chuckles again and folds her hands over her stomach, settling deeper into the couch. Reagan keeps her gaze trained on the ceiling. “I’m glad. Watching them both wipe out and fall into that pool of sharks and barracudas was hysterical. Peak comedy.”
Brett laughs in response to the memory of the footage. He’s quiet for a moment before shrugging and saying, “You know, as much as I hate JR for everything he’s done, but there’s a part of me that can’t hate him. Not completely.”
Reagan whips her head over to Brett, her eyes wide. “The fuck you mean?”
He smiles sheepishly. “He’s the one who hired me based on a handshake. I still don’t know why he thought that was a good idea, but I’m glad he did. I got to meet the gang and have such great friends!” His eyes lock with hers and his smile softens. “I got to meet you, Reags. I can’t ever imagine my life with you! I don’t even want to think what that might be like.”
Damn, how is Brett so open and vulnerable all the time? Reagan has definitely improved in that area, though she still struggles with it. She wants to tell Brett that her life is infinitely better because of him and that she couldn’t be where she is today without him, but the words fall short on her tongue.
She opts to, instead, smile back and say, “You’ve got a point. He’s done at least one good thing in his life, then.”
They sit in silence, the comfortable kind that Brett always brings with him. A few minutes pass while Reagan’s thoughts drift back to a memory, one from a couple months ago. Their interaction while she packed frantically for Appleton and had asked Brett to become the leader of the group. She’d later heard from the others that he did great while in charge (minus the whole Regular Bud situation), and she certainly didn’t doubt that he would have done well, but…
“How were you so okay with me leaving for Appleton?” Reagan immediately winces and waves away the question with her hands. “Wait, I feel like that came out wrong. I mean,” she inhales sharply, “I would be really sad if you left town? So how did you seem to be fine with me leaving so abruptly, is what I’m asking, I guess?”
Brett’s smile takes a solemn turn. “Reags, are you kidding? I was devastated! I…I needed you to stay, ya know?” He shrugs and starts to fiddle with his beer bottle. “But then I remembered how this job affects you. I know you love it, but I can see how it makes you depressed and stressed. Shit, Reags, you even lost a finger to it. If you would be happier with your memory erased and in a different state, then I would be okay.”
Reagan’s memory tugs at something she had once told herself: As long as the person you love is happy, maybe you can be happy later.
Maybe that hadn’t applied to only her that day.
She scooches over on the couch and leans up against Brett, pressing her head to his chest. He doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arm around her shoulders and tug her closer, engulfing her in his warmth.
Reagan closes her eyes. “Thank you for that. But I’m pretty damn happy here, so don’t expect me to be going anywhere anytime soon.”
“Good. That’s all I want to hear.”
His breathing slows after a few moments and his head droops to the side. Reagan knows she should wake him up and call him an Uber or let him stay the night, but she can’t get herself to leave this moment. Not yet.
Her heart has felt cracked and barren ever since Ron left. She worries about opening it again, just for something similar to happen. But right now, Reagan feels a tender warmth swell in her chest. It doesn’t mend her broken state completely. Instead, it brings a sense of hope that she’s one step closer to healing.
And as Reagan looks up at Brett, thinking about his words and everything else he has done for her, she feels her heart open its gates. Just a crack, but enough to let him slip in.
That’s something else entirely for Reagan to unpack. She closes her eyes and lets sleep whisk her away. Future Reagan can deal with it later.