Chapter Forty-Seven Beckett
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
BECKETT
Shannon
I RETURN FROM MY AFTERNOON R ENEWABLE E NERGY CLASS IN TIME TO say goodbye to my dad before he leaves for the airport. While the taxi waits at the curb, we exchange a hug and he playfully ruffles my hair, and then he gets into the back seat, and I watch the car disappear down the street.
Once it’s out of sight, I scroll through my phone contacts until I hit “Mum.” She answers after a couple of rings.
“Hi, sweetheart.”
I walk back to the porch. “Hey. Dad just got in the cab. He should be at the airport in an hour or so.”
“Oh good. Thank you for letting him stay with you, Beck.” She sighs. “I might have been…harsh.”
“When you kicked him out, you mean?” Snorting, I shut the front door behind me and go to the living room. “No, not harsh at all.”
Another sigh.
“Mum…” I trail off, choosing my words carefully. “Try not to be so hard on him, okay? He made a dumb decision with that job offer, yeah, but it wasn’t to hurt you. He just misses it, you know? Home.”
“I know he misses it.” There’s fatigue in her voice, like this isn’t the first time she’s had this conversation. “But that doesn’t mean he can just uproot everything without a conversation. A marriage is a partnership.”
“I get that,” I promise, not wanting her to feel like I’m taking sides. “I’m not saying he was right. I just understand why he did it. He’s homesick. He had this opportunity to go back, and he took it. I miss it too sometimes.”
“You miss Sydney?” she says in surprise.
I nod, even though she can’t see me. “Yeah, I do. More than I thought I would. I think about it a lot, the life we had there. Sometimes it feels like it’s calling me back.”
“You’ve never told me that before. Would you really want to move back? Permanently?”
I rub the back of my neck, trying to put words to the feeling that’s been sitting in my chest for a while now. “I don’t know. Maybe. There’s just something about being there that feels right. The beaches, the ocean, the way the air smells. Everything. It’s like part of me never really left.”
“And what about hockey? Your friends? Your life here? You’ve built something here, Beck. You’ve worked so hard for it.”
“I know. But I’m graduating soon, and I need to figure out what the hell I’m going to do next. I don’t want to play professional hockey. I have no clue what career path to take. And I don’t know how to explain it, but there’s this pull, like I need to go back at some point. I think Dad feels the same way.”
“You miss it that much?” There’s underlying fear in her tone now, as if she’s worried she might lose me to a place she thought we left behind.
“I do. Maybe it’s just nostalgia, or maybe it’s something deeper. But I get why Dad’s struggling. He’s been away so long.”
“I always thought you were so settled here,” she says. “You’ve got your life, your future ahead of you. I didn’t realize you still felt like you belonged there.”
“I think it’s more than just belonging. It’s about…I don’t know. Purpose, maybe? Identity? It’s like Australia is woven into who I am. I can’t explain it.”
“Well. I’ll admit that I didn’t expect this conversation to take this turn. But, sweetheart, I hope you know that whatever you decide, your father and I will support you. You have to follow your heart, wherever that leads you.”
“I know. And I’m not saying I’m going to up and leave tomorrow. I’ve got a lot to think about until graduation, and there’s a lot tying me here. I just wanted you to understand how Dad’s feeling.”
“I do understand. But I suppose I didn’t realize how much he’s been holding on to this. And I didn’t realize you felt it too.” Another soft sigh fills the line. “Thank you for telling me. I’ll talk to him when he gets back.”
“Thanks, Mum.”
I hang up, leaning my head against the couch cushions, the exhaustion settling deep in my bones. I can feel it in every muscle, but it’s not only stress causing the tension. My dad was here for four days.
I haven’t gotten laid in four days.
I’m horny.
And the moment the thought registers, my body makes it demands known. Buzzing. Aching. My balls tighten, and I resist the urge to pull my dick out and jerk off right here in the living room. But I don’t want to waste this first night with my dad gone. Charlie’s coming over soon. Why would I come in my own hand when I can bury myself inside her and bust in that perfect pussy?
The wait is excruciating, though. I have no idea what Will is up to tonight—he didn’t answer my text asking where the hell he is. I try to distract myself from my persistent hard-on by watching TV, but I can’t concentrate.
By the time Charlie arrives, I’m barely holding on to control.
She steps inside, unaware of the lust storm brewing. She smiles at me, and I know I should say something casual, something normal. But all I can think about is her body pressed up against mine, the feel of her skin, the sound of her gasping my name.
“Can I fuck you?” My voice is rough. Almost desperate.
She laughs in surprise. “Right now?”
“Right now. I need you.”
When she sees the look in my eyes, her breath catches. “You want me that bad?”
“You have no idea,” I growl.
Her lips curve in another smile. Then she says, “C’mere.”
I’m on her in an instant, yanking her against me so she can feel how hard I am for her.
“Upstairs?” she says.
I shake my head as I lower my face to her neck, kissing her smooth, soft skin. “I can’t wait,” I mumble.
Her nails dig into my shoulders. “Okay.”
That’s all the permission I need.
I grab her by the waist, backing her into the wall. She gasps when my lips crash over hers in a sloppy, hungry kiss. I’m goddamn feral tonight.
“I’ve been thinking about this for days,” I mutter before running my tongue along the seam of her lips. “Thinking about how good you feel. How wet you’ll be for me.”
She lets out a soft moan, arching into me.
I claim her mouth like I’ve been starved for her, and she responds just as fiercely, tugging at my shirt. I break the kiss long enough to pull it over my head, throwing it on the floor, and then I’m on her again. My hands slip under her sweater, splaying over her skin.
“Fuck, you’re perfect,” I rasp.
I peel her clothes away, piece by piece. Her shirt, her bra, leggings, panties. They fall to the floor like an afterthought, and when I finally have her naked against the wall, my dick is harder than it’s ever been.
She watches me from under heavy-lidded eyes, her palms roaming over my bare chest, my stomach, lower. As she undoes my jeans, I bring one hand between her thighs, finding her slick and ready for me. She moans when I touch her clit, her body jerking at the contact, and I smirk, loving how responsive she is, how much she wants this too.
“You’re soaked,” I say, teasing her just enough to make her squirm. “You’ve been thinking about this too, haven’t you?”
“Always,” she breathes, gasping when two fingers slide inside her.
I kiss her again, rougher this time. My fingers move faster, but I can’t hold back any longer. I need more. I need all of her.
I pull my hand away, making quick work of my pants and boxers, kicking them off before I pin her to the wall with my body. Her legs wrap around me instinctively, and I position myself at her opening, teasing my cockhead through her slit for just a second before thrusting inside.
I groan at the sensation, the heat, the tightness of her pussy squeezing my cock. It’s overwhelming, almost too much, but I can’t slow down. I don’t want to.
“You feel so good,” I grit out, moving inside her with hard, deep thrusts. “I can’t get enough of you, Charlie. Never goddamn enough.”
Every thrust is a release of the pent-up tension, the need I’ve been holding back for days. She matches me, her body rocking into mine as her breathing becomes more ragged.
“Beckett,” she gasps, her voice strained with pleasure. “I’m so close. Don’t stop.”
“I’ve got you,” I groan, slamming into her with everything I have. “I’m not stopping until you come all over me.”
Her eyelids flutter shut, her body trembling as I bring her closer to the edge, my name falling breathlessly from her lips. Her pussy clamps around me, and I know she’s right there, teetering on the brink.
“Come for me, baby girl,” I whisper against her neck. “I want to feel it.”
That’s all it takes. With a sharp cry, she shatters, her body convulsing around me as her orgasm crashes through her. The sensation sends me soaring, and I follow her over the edge, my balls drawing up tight as I come inside her.
We stay like that for a long moment, our bodies pressed together, our breathing unsteady as the world slowly comes back into focus. I lean my forehead against hers. My hand still grips her hip, her legs still wrapped around me.
“Fuck,” I curse. “I needed that.”
She smiles, her fingers tracing tiny patterns on my chest. “Me too.”
Later, after we’ve made dinner and settled in the living room to eat it, Charlie opens her laptop and works on a write-up for some dorky experiment she’s doing at the lab this week. I play a video game, pausing every now and then to sip my water. It’s low-key and I’m content, until the front door creaks open and Will comes home.
He’s unusually quiet as he hangs up his winter gear. Then he appears in the doorway, watching us for a moment.
“Your dad make it to the airport okay?” he asks me.
“Yeah. He landed in Indy an hour ago.”
I know Larsen like the back of my hand, and something is up. He enters the room and goes to give Charlie a peck on the lips, but the smile he gives her is strained. And when he glances at me, he’s not smiling at all.
I frown at him. “What’s wrong?”
He shrugs. “Nothing. Want a beer?”
“Nah. It’s late. Morning skate tomorrow.”
It’s unlike him to drink on a random weeknight when we’re gearing up for the playoffs. He returns, twisting off the cap, his gaze on mine.
“What’s going on, mate?” I push.
There’s a long silence. Charlie must sense the tension, because she lifts her head from her laptop.
“Will?” she says, frowning.
He doesn’t break the eye contact, focused only on me. “Your dad told me about Shannon.”
My breath jams in my throat, and for a moment, I feel like I’ve had the wind knocked out of me. Fucking hell, Dad. He knows I don’t like advertising that shit.
Charlie’s apprehension is aimed at me now. “What? Who’s Shannon?”
“Your ex,” Will prompts, not quite mocking me, but there’s an edge to his words. “That’s what you’ve always referred to her as, right? Your ex?”
I clench my jaw.
“Beckett,” Charlie says. “What’s going on?”
Will glances at our girl. “Shannon wasn’t an ex who cheated on Beck,” he says flatly. “She was his girlfriend who died.”
Charlie stares at me. Speechless.
Will tips his chin at me. “Isn’t that right?”
“Yeah,” I mutter. “That’s right.”
“What the fuck, Beck? Why didn’t you tell me? Why did you let us think Shannon cheated on you?”
I shrug, trying to play it off like it doesn’t matter. Like I hadn’t lied to my best friend about something so significant.
Charlie blinks, still looking stunned. “She didn’t cheat on you? She died ? How?”
When I don’t answer, Will fills in the blanks. “Leukemia,” he says.
“Why would you lie about that?” Charlie exclaims.
I don’t look at either of them. I can’t.
“Beckett,” she pushes.
“Charlotte. I didn’t want to talk about it then,” I say irritably, “and I sure as hell don’t want to talk about it now.”
Now they’re both staring at me in disbelief.
“You can’t just pretend it didn’t happen,” she says. “You can’t brush it off like it’s nothing.”
Anger rises inside me, not at them but at the whole damn situation. “I’m not brushing it off. I just don’t want to be that guy. The one everyone pities and looks at like he’s broken. After Shannon died, everyone treated me like I was some kind of charity case, walking on eggshells around me. I fucking hated it.”
“So you made up a story?” Will is incredulous. “You’d rather people think she cheated on you than know the truth?”
“Yeah, I would. At least that way, people stopped feeling sorry for me.”
“But you’re still hurting.” Charlie reaches out and touches my arm, but I shrug it off.
“I’m fine. It was a long time ago. I’m over it.”
“Are you?” Will challenges. “Because you don’t seem fine.”
“What do you want me to say? That I’m still torn up about it? That I think about her every damn day? What’s the point? She’s gone, and I had to move on. So I did.”
I slide off the couch, needing to remove myself from this situation.
Charlie gets up too, stepping in front of me. Her eyes fill with that soft, stubborn empathy that grates on me.
I clench my teeth. Shannon’s death gutted me, and the truth is, I haven’t entirely moved on. I’d simply shoved it so far down that I didn’t have to feel it every day. But now, with them standing here, it feels like someone is tearing open the wound and scraping a dull razor blade over it, twisting and mutilating scar tissue that never fully healed.
I can’t stand the way they’re looking at me. The sympathy, the concern. It’s too much.
So I shove past them, ignoring Charlie calling my name, ignoring Will’s half-formed words.
The front door slams behind me, and I’m outside, shirtless in the biting February cold, snow crunching under the boots I barely had the presence of mind to throw on. My breath fogs in the air, each exhale sharp against the frozen night.
I don’t know where I’m going, but I need to get out of here. Away from their questions.
My sweatpants hang low on my hips, offering no warmth, but I don’t care. My body feels numb. Numb like it did that day.
“Beckett!” Her voice cuts through the quiet night. She’s coming after me. I hear her steps running through the snow.
I keep walking. I don’t want to stop. If I stop, I’ll have to face it.
“Beckett, please.” She’s closer now, and suddenly, her hand latches on to my bicep, tugging me to a stop. “Please, talk to me.”
I turn, chest heaving, but not from the cold. Charlie’s eyes are wide, full of concern, her breath coming out in shallow clouds. The moonlight makes her look fragile, but she’s out here, chasing me into the freezing cold because she loves me.
“You really want to know?” I snap, harsher than I mean to.
She doesn’t flinch, though. She nods, desperate for me to let her in.
“She fucking died.” The words feel like broken glass in my throat. I try to swallow, but it doesn’t help. “The leukemia ate her alive, piece by piece. And it came out of fucking nowhere. Diagnosed late. So aggressive that treatment was completely ineffective.”
Charlie’s mouth opens like she wants to say something, but she doesn’t. She just listens.
“I was there. I was there when she died. I was lying next to her in that hospital bed. I spent every night with her, holding her until she fell asleep. I woke up that morning, and she was gone. She was dead in my arms, and I didn’t even know. I was goddamn asleep when she died.”
I choke on the last word, my voice failing, and I turn away from Charlie, staring into the empty street. The cold is cutting through me now, deep and painful, but I don’t move.
“When I started at Eastwood College, I lied to anyone who asked me about my past relationship, because I couldn’t take the pity anymore, not after dealing with it in high school. So I made up the story, and it was easier that way. But I’m not fine, Charlie. I’m not okay, and I never will be.”
I finally look back at her. Her eyelashes glisten with tears that haven’t fallen yet. And suddenly, the words I’ve been fighting are there, rushing up before I can push them down again.
“I’m scared of losing you too,” I blurt out. “I’m scared because I love you. I love you, and I don’t know what the hell to do with that.”
Her face crumples, and then she’s stepping forward, throwing her arms around me. I feel her warmth against my chilled skin, the contrast so sharp it makes me dizzy. I bury my face in her hair, inhaling her scent, grounding myself in the reality that she’s here. Alive.
She’s whispering something, but I can’t hear it over the sound of my own heart pounding in my ears. She holds me tighter, her small frame somehow anchoring me, bringing me back from the edge. I’m trembling, and I don’t know if it’s from the cold or the emotions pouring out of me.
“Let’s go inside,” she says, pulling back to look at me. “You’re freezing.”
I nod, letting her lead me back to the house, back to warmth, back to them. But as we step inside and the heat of the house wraps around me, the only thing I feel is her. Her hand in mine, steady and sure.
“Beck,” she says, as if reading my mind.
“Yeah?” We both hear the crack in my voice.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
My throat closes up.
“I mean it. You’re not going to lose me.”
I manage a nod. Maybe she’s right. Maybe this time, I won’t lose everything. It’s not going to be easy, though. I know it won’t. I know there are still parts of myself I’m not ready to share, wounds that haven’t fully healed. But I also know that I don’t want to lose Charlie. Or Will.