Fourteen #2
We fall into an easy silence. I scoot in next to her and rest my head on her shoulder as she works her puzzle.
Eventually, I glance at the clock. “I should go. You need to rest.”
She grins. “Tell Beckett he’s an idiot.”
“I’ll make that my opening line.” I wave as I leave.
That heart better come soon.
I park in front of Tarryn’s house just as the sky shifts from gold to lavender over Black Bear Lake. The scent of woodsmoke and roasted garlic winds through the breeze makes my stomach grumble.
The big stone pizza oven on the patio is already lit, flames flickering behind the blackened iron door. Tarryn waves from the prep table, flour smudged across her cheek and a bottle of rosé chilling in a bucket beside her.
“You beat Beckett,” she calls, her grin wide and teasing. “Extra points for punctuality. ”
I smile as I walk up. “I figured I’d earn my slice before the cardiologist shows up and tries to steal all the good toppings.”
Tarryn pulls me into a warm hug, one of those Paradise-family hugs that seems to say more than words. They really are amazing. “I’m glad you’re here,” she says.
The prep table is a mosaic of color—red sauces, golden cheese, green basil, glistening peppers, marinated artichokes, and enough mushrooms to start a forest.
As I reach for a dough ball, she lifts an eyebrow. “So…what’s going on with you and Beckett?”
I freeze mid-roll. “Nothing.”
“Uh-huh.” She doesn’t even blink.
“We’re roommates.”
Tarryn gives me a look that could cut through steel. “Not just that, based on the way he watches you when you’re not looking.”
I huff and return to flattening the dough. “He avoids me half the time and glares the other half.”
She giggles. “That’s Beckett’s love language.”
“I thought his love language was clinical detachment and cardiac emergencies.”
She laughs again. “Nope. Grumpiness and deep, unresolved feelings.”
I layer on toppings—olives, sausage, roasted garlic, a little bit of everything. A small reminder that I’m allowed to take up space, even if I don’t always know how.
“Everything but pineapple,” I murmur as I finish.
Tarryn chuckles. “Funny, that’s exactly how Beckett makes his. Down to the spicy honey drizzle.”
“I know pineapple is supposed to be a Canadian thing, but I stand by it. Pineapple does not belong on pizza.”
“Amen to that,” Beckett’s voice rumbles from behind me.
I turn, startled, and there he is—jeans, black T-shirt, tired eyes, and a six-pack of vodka cranberry slushies dripping condensation over his fingers.
He holds one out to me. “In honor of your excellent taste in pizza?”
I take it. “Only if you didn’t spike this with pineapple.”
He cracks a grin and opens his own. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
We toast—plastic cups clinking beneath the warm haze of string lights—and settle into the Adirondack chairs overlooking the lake. The scent of baking pizza rises into the air, and I let myself sink into these surroundings.
This isn’t just pizza. It’s a moment I thought I’d never get back—safety, warmth, family without blood.
“I saw Rosie today,” I say softly, staring out over the water. “She was in good spirits.”
“She always lights up when you visit,” Beckett replies.
“She asked if she could come with me to Appleton tomorrow to pick up fundraiser donations.”
Tarryn turns to her brother. “You know she’d love it—”
Beckett cuts in, his tone gentle but firm. “It’s not safe. If a heart becomes available, we’d need to prep her immediately. Plus, we can’t risk her getting sick.”
“I know.” But it still sucks. “She just wants to get outside and breathe fresh air—to do something normal and not be hooked up to a thousand machines. Be somewhere besides that hospital bed.”
“She’s lucky to have you,” Tarryn murmurs.
I look down at my drink, swirling the slush.
“She’s not the only one,” Beckett adds, his voice quiet.
“I know,” Tarryn agrees. “The tasting room would be a mess without you.”
I look up and find Beckett watching me, and for one breathless second, everything goes still.
Tarryn, blissfully unaware of the emotional grenade between us, shifts the subject. “Oh, and Sadie, you should know, we installed cameras. One over the register, one outside Zach’s office, and one by the back door.”
I blink. “Beckett mentioned that.”
“I’m really sorry you felt you had to cover for Zach. You’re doing a great job,” she says. “And you deserve to know we’re protecting you.”
“Zach’s probably going to try again,” Beckett adds. “And this time, we’ll be ready.”
I nod, swallowing past the knot in my throat. “Thanks. For believing me.”
Tarryn shrugs like it’s obvious. “You’re smart. Kind. And our customers love you. You’re valuable here. Don’t let his crap make you think otherwise.”
After dinner, as the sky deepens into twilight, we carry our plates back inside and trade one-liners about whose pizza reigned supreme. Spoiler, Tarryn insists hers always is the winner.
As we say goodnight, Beckett walks me out to his Jeep. The breeze has cooled, and somewhere nearby, crickets chirp like it’s their job.
“I’ll follow you home,” he says.
I stop beside the driver’s door. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I want to. And we’re going to the same place,” he adds with a laugh.
Once I’m behind the wheel and headed toward the main road, my phone buzzes in the cupholder. I answer on Bluetooth, and Beckett’s voice fills the Jeep. “Do you always drive like a granny?”
I laugh out loud. “Try to keep up, Paradise.” I floor it, tires kicking up gravel as I pull onto the road, grinning when I see his headlights right behind me.