Rage

Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

Beckett

I leaned against the wall, wiping the sweat from my brow as I surveyed the mess in Mila’s living room. The Christmas tree stood tall against the row of windows, its branches still drooping from the packaging. I’d spent over an hour untangling lights and rummaging through boxes for ornaments from both of our apartments. I wanted it to be perfect for her return.

The faint sound of footsteps in the hallway drew my attention.

She was home.

I straightened up, stepping back to admire my handiwork—or lack thereof. The tree leaned slightly to one side, and half the lights flickered ominously. I chuckled under my breath; maybe it was a metaphor for us. Still standing but wobbling at times.

As she walked in, her eyes widened, taking in the scene.

“Beckett? What is this?” Her voice mixed surprise with amusement even though she looked from her travels, dressed in a plain white sweatsuit and sneakers. Her coat looked like it was eating her, a black puffy thing that came down almost to the floor.

Grinning, I took her coat from her. “Surprise! Figured we could use some holiday spirit.”

She moved her bags to the side and stepped closer, inspecting the tree like a detective scrutinizing evidence.

“I thought you were supposed to make it look better than this.” Her lips quirked into a smile that lit up the room more than any string of lights ever could.

“Hey now, I’m no interior designer,” I shot back playfully. “But it’s festive enough, right?”

Mila crossed her arms, leaning against the doorway with an air of mock judgment. “Festive? This looks like it survived a snowstorm.”

“Yeah? Well, give me a chance.” I stepped forward, reaching for an ornament—a simple glass bauble—and held it up like a prize. “See? We can fix this together.”

She raised an eyebrow but took the ornament from me and carefully placed it on a lower branch. “Okay, Mr. Holiday Cheer. Let’s see if you can salvage this.”

I grabbed another ornament and joined her at the tree’s base, our fingers brushing as we decorated together in comfortable silence.

“You know,” she said after a moment, “you didn’t have to stay here while I was gone and do all this.”

I glanced at her sideways. “I wanted to be here—just in case.”

“Just in case what?”

“Just in case you needed me when you got back.”

Her expression softened as she looked down at the ornaments we had hung so far—each representing moments we’d shared or milestones we’d reached together since we met. We’d collected them the last few weeks while out on our dates.

I took a deep breath.

This was it—the moment I’d been dreading all day.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” I began, my eyes fixed on her reaction. “My father—he passed away while you were gone.”

Mila’s eyes widened, and her hands flew to her mouth in a dramatic display of surprise. “Oh my God, Beckett, I’m so sorry. When—?” her voice trailed off, her eyes searching mine.

I stepped forward and gently grasped her chin, my thumb brushing across her soft skin. “I know it was you,” I whispered, my gaze holding hers captive. “The watch. He was wearing the watch when they found him.”

Her eyes flickered away from me, and she let out a strangled cough.

“I—I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Her voice shook, and she took a step back, watching as my hand fell back to my side. I put my hands in the pockets of my jeans and waited until she looked at me again.

“Don’t, Mila. Don’t lie to me.” I took a step forward, closing the distance between us again. “I keep an unhealthy tab on the whereabouts of my father. You’re the only one who knows I stole that watch from him when I left. I saw the news article about his passing, and he was wearing that watch in the photo. The only part of him that wasn’t covered in blood at the scene.”

She swallowed, her eyes flicking downward briefly before meeting mine again. “I didn’t— I mean, I—” she trailed off, her eyes filling with tears.

I held her gaze, the weight of my father’s death heavy in the air between us.

“Mila, I’m not mad at you.” I took a deep breath, trying to steady my racing heart. “I’m upset that you put yourself in danger going there.”

Her brow furrowed, confusion mixing with pain. “I thought you’d understand. We both?—”

“Understand what?” I interrupted, my voice rising slightly before I reined it in. “You think I want you to risk your safety just to prove a point? That you are every bit as capable of exacting revenge against that piece of shit? Don’t you think I know that? You’re a goddamn warrior to me. But you just started feeling comfortable being outside the apartment. Now you’re off avenging me? That’s not how this works.”

She opened her mouth to argue but faltered, glancing away as if searching for the right words among the scattered ornaments on the floor. I softened my tone, trying to calm myself down because she was here. Standing in front of me. She’s not hurt.

But Christ, she could have been.

“I know why you did it,” I continued after a moment, keeping my voice steady. “And I appreciate it more than I could ever put into words. That man should have been wiped from the planet years ago. But I’m trying to keep you safe, baby. I know how sick that bastard is, and it would have killed me where I stood if I had read you died in that article instead of him.”

Mila wrapped her arms around herself as if trying to hold in all that anguish we had both fought against for so long. The flickering Christmas lights cast shadows across her face, accentuating the pain etched into her features.

“I thought…” she whispered, tears pooling in her eyes. “I thought if I could just... get rid of your demon, we could both finally forget.”

“Forget?” My voice dropped to a whisper. “There are things we will never be able to forget from our childhoods. But now we have each other and don’t have to face it alone. We aren’t alone anymore. You have to start getting that through your pretty stubborn head.”

“I’m sorry,” Mila whispered over and over as she walked into my outstretched arms, and I hugged her tight.

We hold each other for what feels like hours until time catches up with us.

“Stop saying you’re sorry,” I whisper harshly, kissing the top of her head. “I was just so worried. How did you even get close to him? The report didn’t say much about how he died--just that he was the victim of a home invasion.”

Mila buries her face into my chest before whispering, “I pretended my car broke down and needed help. He was more than happy to let me in the house, and once I was inside, I pepper sprayed him.” She grabbed onto my thick wool sweater with her hands and I tightened my hold on her. “After I got him down on the ground, I kicked him in the head until he passed out. When he woke up, he was tied up on the floor in the kitchen, and I--I didn’t, I don’t know why I did it, but I just wanted him to suffer. I wanted him to pay for what he did to you.”

“How did you do it, baby?” I ask again, rubbing a circle into her back with one hand. I reach over to grab one of her pill bottles from the counter behind me before passing her a Xanax. She’s still prone to panic attacks, but at least her medication helps her when she starts to spiral. Luckily, she only packed what she needed for her trip and left the rest on the counter. She quickly swallows the small pill without water and continues clutching onto me as she tells me the rest.

“I told him I was there for you. I told him I loved you, and he needed to be gone so you could be free of him. I broke a bottle against his face and cut off his cock, and shoved it into his throat until he choked to death on it.”

“You love me?” Beckett asks, gently cupping my face and tilting it upward so he can look into my eyes.

“That’s what you heard from that?” I ask incredulously.

Beckett smiles. “The asshole died fittingly. Love how clever you are, you minx. You’re a fucking beautiful savage and I am lucky to know you, let alone be with you. But I don’t fucking care about my father right now. Do you mean it?”

“Yes.”

“You love me?”

“Yes.”

“You know I love you, too, right?”

“Yes.”

“So, you’ll marry me then?”

“Yes--Wait, what?” Mila asks suddenly, caught in her own trap. She tries to push herself back, but I hold her firm against me and kiss along her jawline.

“You already agreed. No takebacks. Besides, I can’t keep carrying this around in my pocket. This is New York, and I will get mugged for it sooner or later.” I’m trying to keep the energy in the room light as I get down on one knee and pull a small red box out of my pocket, but I’m shaking.

Can she tell I’m trembling?

This is the most vulnerable I have ever been, and it’s totally not the right time, but I know this is my future. She is my future. I know she’s the other piece of my shattered soul, and I don’t even want to pick up the pieces. I’m just happy to lay with her amongst the shards.

“Beckett,” she whispers as I slide the marquis-shaped diamond onto her finger. “Tell me this is real. Tell me I’m not just imagining you proposing to me because I’m so desperate to be happy that I’m making this up. Tell me –” A soft sob escapes her and cuts off her words as she sinks down to her knees in front of me until we’re at eye level.

“It’s real. We’re real. And we’re going to live a full, beautiful life. One with good therapists, great food, fantastic sex and love. God, I can’t wait to spend my life showing you how much I love you.”

Mila throws her arms around my shoulders and kisses me.

“I already know,” she smiles against my lips.

And she does. I proved I would do anything for her. And I did.

And she showed me she would do the same.

There’s no right way to heal, but there is a right way to love--

And we know how to do that.