Chapter 4 #3
When I finally pull up to the preschool, I see Beckett perched on the side of his motorcycle with his arms crossed. His eyes narrow on me as I park and get out.
“Why the fuck haven’t you answered any of my calls or texts, Sutton?” he fumes, stepping towards me.
His tone and body language has me flinching and taking a step back. I’m not new to the abrupt smack or being caned with a willow switch, but coming from him throws me off guard, so I brace myself. He sees me retreat and comes to a full stop.
Putting his hands up in surrender, “Whoa, Angel, I’m not like that.”
I swallow and take a deep breath. “I’ve been really busy lately and haven’t had a minute to respond properly.”
He nods then fills up the space between us.
“What’s going on?” he asks.
“Just stuff with my father,” I say, hoping he won’t try to dig in deeper.
“I know the carnival and the Raegan situation has been a lot, but I need you to check in with me when I call or text.”
I nod my head as he refers to Raegan getting hit and moving out of her mother and stepdad’s house. “I’ll try to be better,” I voice and then wince. After years of being verbally beatdown and forced to obey, the response shoots out before I can stop it.
Beckett frowns then says, “I’ve got a meeting this afternoon, but I want to take you somewhere after.”
“I’ve got something with Raegan after work,” I tell him, hoping to avoid this.
My heart is already breaking from having to leave the only home I’ve ever known, but the more time I spend with Beckett the more I want things that I know I can’t have.
I get swept up in his dark eyes that put me in a daze while his touch sets me on fire.
“Cancel it,” he states.
“I can’t.” There’s no way I’m telling him that Raegan is taking me to a car race. She knows that I need to make some money, and she let me know that this was a way to get it quick and make a lot of it. With my timeline moved up, I’m thankful and can’t pass up on it.
“Angel, I’m not a patient man. You’re pushing me to my limits here,” he says, gripping my waist with his large hands.
“I’m sorry but maybe tomorrow,” I suggest.
“Why are you so reluctant about this?” He places a finger under my chin and pushes it up so that I’m looking at him and not at his broad chest. “You and me are going to happen.”
“You sound so sure,” I say, unbelieving that this could ever work. Maybe if I was born into a different family and had a different life, but I just can’t see how this could ever work especially in this town.
“Because I am,” he firmly states. I can’t help but snort. I wish I had my life all figured out like he does. “Talk to me. Tell me what is holding you back; give me a chance to show you what we could be.”
“You don’t understand—”
“Then fucking tell me,” he growls.
“Ms. Sutton! Daddy!” we hear called out and our heads snap over to the sound of a little voice.
Zane and my other kids are out at the playground. Zane’s got his little face smashed up against the fence, waving excitedly. I wave back mirroring his enthusiasm.
“Gosh, I love him,” I let slip out.
“He loves you too, Sutton. You’re all he talks about to me and Martha,” he informs me, and it makes me smile.
“He’s a good kid, Beckett. He’s kind and helpful and so loving,” I tell him. “I wish we could all stay so trusting and innocent,” I say the last part more to myself.
“Then let me in. Trust me. How can I help you if you don’t let me know what’s going on,” he says.
My shoulders sag in defeat. I’m leaving within the next week and maybe getting it all off my chest will help someone else after this town is in my rearview mirror.
“Pick me up after work tomorrow and I’ll tell you,” I say.
He growls, letting me know he hates waiting, and it makes me giggle.
“If you ghost me again, I’m chaining you to the bedpost and not letting you leave for a month, Angel,” he says and a horrible memory from Colombia surfaces. My body freezes and then sways. “Whoa, babe, it was a joke,” I hear him voice. I shake my head sealing the thoughts up tight.
“Right,” I clear my throat trying to play it off.
Beckett brings his hand up cupping the side of my neck. His thumb roams across my cheek ever so gently.
“I know you feel what’s happening here. Whatever you have to tell me won’t change things.”
If you only knew, it might change your mind.
Slowly, he bends down and presses his lips to mine. They’re warm and soft to the touch. A car door slams startling me, and I break our connection.
“I’ve got to go,” I say, bending down, grabbing my bag in the front seat.
“Tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow,” I agree.
He nods and I watch as he walks back over to his bike, swinging a leg over the seat. The motor rumbles before he kicks the stand back and shoots out of the parking lot.
I take a huge inhale of air and close my eyes. I just need to get through this evening and tomorrow, then I’ll be able to embark on my exit strategy. Telling Beckett isn’t going to change my mind, but he at least deserves to know why I can’t commit or stay here.
Tomorrow.
I’ll tell him what he wants, but first I just need to get through the race tonight, and then it’ll be easier.