Chapter 1 Beckham #2
Her mouth popped open like a fish out of water.
“No. No! I didn’t mean it like that. I mean”—she waved her hands around—“you used to have chubbier cheeks and not much facial hair and now you have a mustache and a jawline and—” She let out a small laugh that was more air than anything.
“Sorry. I guess seeing you after all these years has me tongue-tied.”
That, or the pregnancy I was neglecting to bring up. I had to keep reminding myself it wasn’t my business. To be fair, her bump was small enough that it still seemed early on, but what did I know about those kinds of timelines?
“I get it. A decade changed you, too. You look beautiful, Parker.” I wanted to say so much more, but I held my tongue.
The corner of her mouth raised, her cheeks turning a light pink. Was she blushing over such a simple compliment?
Her hand came up to land on her belly. “Thank you.”
I dipped my chin in a nod before tearing my gaze away from hers. I didn’t want to, but I had to stop looking at her eventually. I wished I didn’t, but it’d be weird if I kept staring. She’d probably think I was having a stroke or something.
“And thank you for coming,” she added, pulling my focus back to her. Hell, it hadn’t left to begin with.
“Yeah, of course. I mean, I came to support you. I know he was a dick, but he was still your dad.”
Her head fell before she forced a small smile. I hated when she did that. “I hadn’t seen him in so long. I didn’t really want to. Never thought about it, if I’m being honest.” She glanced at the casket. “For me, he died the day I left.”
“I think he died for a lot of people a long time ago,” I admitted. I was one of them. “Where are you staying in town? Didn’t they sell your childhood home years ago?”
I caught the way her thumb ran circles over her belly. “Yeah, so I was told. I didn’t want it anyway.” She dropped her hand. “I’m staying at the motel in town.”
I took note of the way she phrased it. She made it sound like she was staying alone. My eyes darted to her left hand, noting she didn’t wear a ring. “Boyfriend not come with?”
Her head tilted slightly, like she knew I was skirting the obvious here. “No. I’m single.”
She said it so confidently, I nearly started peppering her with questions. But instead, I settled on, “That where you’re heading after this?”
“Yeah. Well, I have to take care of some things here first, but after that, I don’t really have any plans…”
Her voice became drowned out as my gaze caught on a red Chevy truck in the parking lot behind her.
It wasn’t exactly identical to his, with its stock tires and no tint on the windows, but it was enough to have my heart rate picking up a notch.
I still expected to see him sometimes, even though I was well aware he was never coming back, and when I saw glimpses of who he used to be—whether that was the vehicle he drove or his favorite food on a menu—it’d catch me off guard.
“Right. I should get going.” I didn’t know if I cut her off. Didn’t know if she was waiting for me to reply or excusing herself or what. But I knew I didn’t want to leave her. I’d stand here in silence with her all day if she’d let me, but I refused to break down in front of her.
Your childhood crush comes back after years of being gone and her first impression is you having a panic attack in front of her?
Not cute, if you asked me.
It also wasn’t cute that I didn’t so much as glance her way as I brushed past her and headed toward my truck parked on the street.
The oak branches lining the cemetery swayed in the wind, but I didn’t so much as hear the leaves rustling as I trudged through dewy grass, my pace a little too fast to not look suspicious.
Hold it together until you get to the damn truck. Then you can yell, cry, punch something—but don’t let anyone see. You’re better than that.
It felt like forever until my fingers closed around the handle and yanked.
I threw myself onto the seat with the grace of a fucking foal, slammed the door, clicked the locks, and pressed my forehead to the cool leather of the steering wheel.
My eyes squeezed shut so hard, I thought my eyelids might fuse into one and never open again.
But even shutting out the world didn’t stop the images of Garrett’s truck wrapped around a tree from flashing in my mind.
The skid marks on the pavement. The lone branch that had fallen, but the tree was still standing. I’d cursed the bird that dropped a seed in that very spot for being the reason that damn tree grew. For being the reason my friend died.
I had attributed his death to the other driver on the road. To the weather. The wind. The goddamn universe.
There were so many people and things to blame.
His mom for inviting him home. His cousin for calling and delaying his departure by five minutes.
The gas station pump that hadn’t worked, causing him to drive to the one in front of it.
And I only knew that because we were such good fucking friends that he’d updated me before I got on the bronc that night.
Garrett: My luck ran out on diesel tonight, brother. Pulled up to the one damn pump that doesn’t work
Me: Your luck ran out years ago when I stayed on Ass Pulverizer longer than you
Garrett: That’s not his real name
Me: Should’ve been. Drive safe, G. Text me when you get there. Tell your mom I said hi
Garrett: If you love her so much, tell her yourself
And I did. At the same fucking time we told her son goodbye.
My fist slammed into the wheel as a bead of sweat dripped down my temple despite the cold temperature of the cab.
My breath came in short pants, my heart threatening to burst out of my chest as my fingers dug into my clammy palms.
Think of three things, my therapist used to tell me.
It wasn’t fucking helpful. Three things could be anything, and when I was panicking, my mind always reverted to the worst.
I stopped going to therapy after that.
I tried counting to regulate my breathing—in through the nose and out through the mouth for however many fucking seconds—but that didn’t shut my mind off. Drinking had, temporarily, but my brother Reed had given me a wake-up call on that, so I quit overindulging in alcohol.
Now I just overindulged in overthinking.
I needed to text Lennon, my oldest brother, and clear my head before I lost myself to the grief.
I lifted my head from the steering wheel, prying my eyes open to take in the trunk of the car in front of me. I forced every ounce of control I had into regulating my breathing. Then I pulled my phone from my jacket pocket and clicked my text thread with Lennon. My fingers were shaking as I typed.
Me: That motel in town still have no heat?
My gaze stayed fixed to the spot where that little bubble would pop up if he was typing. I sent up a silent thanks when it did.
Lennon: Hasn’t for a few weeks, I think. Why?
Me: All I needed to know. Thanks
Lennon: Don’t go playing pretend HVAC repairman, Beck. I can give you a job
Me: Busy
Lennon: Of course you are. Let me know how being electrocuted feels
Oh, I knew how it felt. Seeing Parker today was like nothing short of electricity coursing through every nerve in my body.
But seeing Parker tonight? Well, that might be the death of me.
So long as I could get myself under control enough not to be on the brink of another fucking panic attack in her presence.