CHAPTER 4
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M allory had fallen into a black hole; she was certain of it. Nothing around her made sense and there was a faint ringing in her ears. Yep, she was tumbling through space and time without a tether. It was surreal, standing in Beckett Fox’s apartment, mere miles from her own. For more times than she’d ever admit, she’d fantasized about seeing him again. Her daydreams ranged from anger-fueled thoughts of decking him to lust filled fantasies of kissing him until she couldn’t feel her lips.
While his back was turned to the stove, she pinched her arm to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. Letting out a tiny yelp, she clapped her hand over her mouth and groaned. Real smooth, Mallory.
“Did you say something?” Beckett asked over his shoulder.
“Nothing,” she squeaked out in reply. “Can I help with anything?”
He shook his head, his attention back to the cutting board in front of him. “Help yourself to a drink and have a seat. This won’t take long.”
She did as she was told, grabbing a pair of beers and popping the tops. After sliding one across the counter to Beckett, she took her drink to the couch and curled up on the far cushion. Perhaps having a yard of fabric and padding between them would make it less awkward?
Beckett chopped for a few minutes and then slid a sheet tray into the oven. He tidied up before joining her on the couch. “Food will be ready in less than fifteen minutes.”
“Cool,” she said, taking a long pull from her beer. What the hell was she supposed to do for fifteen minutes? Discuss the current state of American politics? Go over her recent training on the best way to draw blood? She assumed she would eat and run; not sit in awkward silence for an eternity.
“Cool,” Beckett replied like a robot, swigging from his own beer.
Mallory opened her mouth to repeat the blasted word for the third time, but she clamped her mouth shut. She would not be the weird one—more than she already was. She was visiting a friend, helping with the tools. This visit didn’t mean anything, so why did she feel so uncomfortable?
“God, this is awkward,” Beckett muttered before draining his beer and jumping to his feet. “Let’s try this again.”
“Huh?” Mallory scurried to her feet as Beckett threw the door open. “What are you doing?”
Gently taking her elbow, he steered her outside and shut the door in her face. She stood slack-jawed until the door flew open again, Beckett standing there grinning from ear to ear. “Wow, Mallory. What a pleasant surprise. Won’t you come in?”
Mallory stood frozen in place, her feet feeling as heavy as a pair of cement boots. She raised an eyebrow but didn’t interrupt him.
“I’ve got dinner in the oven, and I’d love for you to join me.”
This was a game they used to play as kids. If one of them, Evan included, did something stupid or silly, the others would start over again and pretend it didn’t happen. Clearly Beckett was repeating history, and she wouldn’t fight the pull to step back inside. “Why thank you, Beckett. That would be delightful.”
He theatrically waved his arm in the direction of the couch once she crossed the threshold. “Have a seat, I’ll bring over dinner.”
A minute later, Mallory was presented with the most delicious-looking meal she’d had in ages. “Is this...” Her throat closed as she attempted to form the words. She hadn’t eaten French bread pizza in far too long, mostly because it reminded her of the man sitting next to her.
Using his wrist, Beckett shoved his glasses back in place as he eased onto the cushion beside her. “French bread pizza? Yeah, please don’t judge that at twenty-seven-years-old I’m barely able to cook without bread and cheese.”
“No judgments here.” She breathed, staring down at the piece of pizza like it held the answers to her broken heart. She was dying to know if he ever thought about that day. If he ever wondered if the vows they spoke as tweens held any merit now. It was a fool’s errand, so instead, she took a bite and shot him a thumbs-up. “This is perfect.” Her cheeks were full of food, and she must have resembled a chipmunk before winter.
Beckett beamed, diving into his own meal with enthusiasm. “Thanks, and thanks for coming over. I’ll admit, it’s been a little lonely since I came back.” That should not have made her relax, but it did. No one should be lonely, but lonely meant there weren’t other women visiting his new apartment.
Mallory had a lot of gaps when it came to Beckett’s life. Whether he sensed the topic caused her stress or not, Evan was light on the details beyond the passing of Beckett’s grandfather. “I’m so sorry to hear about Gramps.” The words sounded lame to her own ears, but she didn’t know what else to say.
He offered her a sad smile before taking another bite. She watched the muscles of his throat intently as he chewed. She was familiar with every angle on this man, from the slope of his nose to the curve of his neck. Once he’d fallen asleep in her college dorm room on a visit, and she took a pen and connected the freckles on his forearm. The shapes created looked like anime cartoons, and they’d laughed for hours at her handiwork.
Despite looking like Beckett, he still didn’t feel like her Beckett. The dark smudges under his eyes spoke to sleepless nights, the paleness of his skin proved he wasn’t out in the orchards helping with the harvest, and the curling hair at the nape of his neck meant he wasn’t getting regular haircuts. Although perhaps this was just Beckett in his late twenties? It could be as simple as they were strangers. Maybe he would never be her Beckett again...
“Thanks. I won’t lie.” His expression was pinched as he squeezed his eyes closed, lost in memory. “It sucks that he’s gone, but I’m relieved he’s not in pain anymore.”
Wiping her hands on her napkin, she frowned. “I’m sorry I didn’t know. I would have come over to visit if I had, it’s just—” She didn’t know how to answer that question. It’s just that your careless words broke my heart, and I pretended you didn’t exist. I chose self-preservation over your needs.
“You have your own life, Mal. I don’t fault you for that.” He toyed with the burnt edge of his pizza, flaking away crumbs with this thumb.
Mallory shook her head so forcefully, her bun bobbed against her neck in frustration. “No, that’s not an excuse. Your grandparents were always so good to Ev and me. I’m sorry we lost touch.” They were like family, was what she wanted to say. Yet the words wouldn’t come, because she couldn’t admit they were gone...couldn’t admit she’d lost another part of her past.
“I’m sorry we lost touch too, but not just because of Gramps.”
She would have been less shocked if Beckett jumped onto the couch and did a jig a la Tom Cruise on Oprah .
Averting her gaze, she studied her plate and picked off a piece of pepperoni. She shoved it in her mouth and tried to focus on the spicy morsel and not Beckett staring a hole through her skull. “Stuff happens.”
“No, I happened,” Beckett said, placing his empty plate on the coffee table next to the tool box. “Look, I’ve been meaning to—” His words were cut short when there was a loud knock at the door.
“Yo! Foxy!” Evan’s voice boomed through the closed door.
Mallory leapt to her feet, collecting their dishes and carrying them to the sink with the speed of Superman on a mission. “I’ll head out,” she said, her eyes focused on the task of cleaning up. If she kept distracted with something as mundane as loading the dishwasher, she wouldn’t scream at her brother for interrupting the moment. For interrupting the explanation she’d been waiting ages for.
“You don’t have to.” Beckett urged, not answering the door despite Evan’s persistent knocking. “Please, stay. I’m sure Evan is just making sure I’m not bored.”
Mallory’s shoulders slumped, and she tried to keep the emotion from her voice. “You two have a lot to catch up on. The wedding and everything. I’ll just be a third wheel.”
The statement rang false, and they both knew it. Never had Mallory been the third wheel, not even close. Their little trio always made sense—until it didn’t.
“Thanks for the pizza.” She gestured to the empty sheet tray and smiled. “It reminded me of—” She stopped herself before she could show her hand. Beckett Fox made it abundantly clear he wasn’t interested in her, so she wouldn’t make a fool of herself any longer. She’d learned her lesson, or at least she was trying to.
“Foooxxxyyyy!” Evan’s voice echoed around them. “Are you alive?”
Mallory hiked her purse strap up her shoulder and tried to step past Beckett. He stopped her progression with a gentle hand to the shoulder. Her skin burned where his fingers carefully held her in place. “It reminded you of what?”
It could have been wishful thinking, but Mallory thought he looked hopeful. No, it was probably a trick of the light. She opened her mouth to respond, but Evan knocked again. “Oh, for heaven’s sake.” She sighed as she side-stepped Beckett and flung the door open. “Christ, Ev.”
Evan’s blue eyes bugged out at the sight of his sister. “Mal? What are you doing here?”
“Dropping off tools,” she said over her shoulder. Without another glance, she strode to her car and slid behind the wheel. She wasn’t certain, but she thought she heard Beckett calling her name.
Mallory drove home in silence, the concept of the radio or a podcast too much company for her muddled brain. She’d survived seeing Beckett twice in one day. She’d done a nice thing by helping him with the tools, and now she didn’t have a reason to see him again. Well, except for her brother’s wedding. But thinking about the wedding brought on a fresh surge of frustration over the ring.
As she stepped into her tiny apartment and greeted her cat, Fernando, Mallory made herself a promise. She wouldn’t get swept up with Beckett again. Fawning over the man for over fifteen years was long enough. She was done waiting for a miracle, done waiting for the man to realize what was standing in front of him. No, Mallory would find a new man. She’d made it this long without Beckett, and she knew she could keep going.
*
“S o Mal brought over the tools?” Evan asked as he flopped onto the couch. He sniffed the air and grinned. “Is that dinner I smell?”
Beckett chuckled, endlessly charmed by his friend’s bottomless appetite. He answered his question with another. “Aren’t you engaged to a chef?”
Evan winked. “Not yet, but soon. Besides, CeCe has girls’ night with Natalie and Ginny. I thought I’d come over here and make sure you’re not bored.” He nestled back into the couch and asked again, “So is there any dinner?”
“You missed dinner, but I can offer dessert.” Beckett found a box of Oreos and tossed them to Evan. With lightning-fast reflexes, his friend caught the cookies in one deft motion.
“Did Mal bring you dinner?” Evan asked, his expression still playful.
“Nah, just tools. She caught me midway through cooking, so I invited her to join me.” And he was damned glad he did, and even happier that she accepted the invitation. Beckett pulled another pair of beers from the fridge before joining his friend. He studied Evan for any sign of discomfort, any indication that he could read his mind and see his feelings for Mallory. Yet all Beckett saw in Evan’s eyes was his signature carefree smile. The man was clueless, and that was probably for the best.
After eating half a sleeve of Oreos, Evan dusted crumbs from his hands and flung over the tool box. “What can I help with?”
“Not too much, actually. There’s a new end table I bought from IKEA, and I know I’ll need more than that goofy wrench thingy they toss in the box.” In truth, Beckett had everything he needed in the farm house, but he wasn’t ready to go back yet. Frankly, he didn’t know when he’d be ready.
That was his safe space, a place filled with memories of the people who loved him. Yes, his grandparents were chief among them, but he couldn’t forget about his time with the Lawsons. He and Evan got into so much mischief back then, from setting off fireworks in the middle of February from the hen house roof to hiding mud pies all over the property for Mallory or Gram to step in.
He and Mallory had their own memories too, mainly their wedding day and first kiss. Beckett revisited that afternoon more often than he would admit, and he was curious if Mallory did as well. Her question before Evan interrupted played on a loop in his brain. Did she remember eating French bread pizza with him that day? Did she think of it as frequently as he did?
“Why didn’t you just bring more furniture from the farm house?” Evan’s question brought Beckett back to the moment, and he shrugged. Truthfully, it was a loaded question with too many emotions to unpack. Much like his current apartment, certain things were meant to be boxed up and tossed away in a dark corner. That house deserved to be filled with love and smiling faces, not a grumpy loner who didn’t know how to move forward with his life.
Picking up on his buddy’s mood, Evan nudged his knee as he stood. “I’m grabbing a couple of wrenches, and you’re going to tell me why you look like you drank battery acid.”
“I do not,” Beckett replied weakly, a smile tugging at his lips. All it took was five minutes in Evan’s company for his mood to shift.
Evan carefully took the planks and screws out of the box, lining everything up in size order. “This reminds me of when we’d build model airplanes and cars with Gramps,” Evan said, keeping his blue gaze focused on the instructions sheet.
Beckett loved this about his friend, that he could bring up happy memories during a painful time and not have them sting. As boys, they would create, and sometimes destroy, all sorts of toys, buildings, and vehicles. For a time, Beckett assumed they’d get into some type of mechanics business, but when they went to college, things shifted. Evan found a love for computers and tech, while Beckett gravitated toward economics and numbers. He was grateful for his job in finance, especially since it was remote and allowed him extra time to help with Gramps. The work-from-home lifestyle also afforded him the luxury of hitting the road after he passed, since Beckett couldn’t handle the Buckeye state another moment. Needing an escape from reality, and a certain brunette, he’d taken some time to travel the country. As long as he had an internet connection, he could pay the bills. Yet things were different now. He didn’t want to be away from home, from the people who mattered.
“Remember that time we built a house for Mal’s Barbies?” Evan chuckled at the memory, already knowing where Beckett was going with this.
“Yeah, she loved that house.”
“Until the stink bombs went off,” Evan cackled his reply. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget the look on her face when she pelted me with her dolls.”
“Smelling like rotten eggs was far from anyone’s dream house.” Beckett agreed, reveling in the memory of Mallory and her spitfire reaction. When they were young, he had adored getting a rise out of her. Then as they got older, right around a certain faux wedding ceremony, Beckett started to pay more attention to her reactions. That was when he decided he wanted to be the reason she smiled, not the reason she frowned—or threw dolls.
For a few minutes, the two worked in tandem to get the end table together. Just as Evan screwed in the last table leg, he sighed. “I wish I could figure out Mal’s dream now.” The admission caused Beckett to drop the last two nails, which toppled across the floor in opposite directions.
Using it as an excuse to avoid eye contact, Beckett scurried after the rogue pieces. “What’s wrong with Mallory?” He hoped his voice was lighter than it felt, because nausea crept up his throat at the thought that she was troubled.
Evan adjusted the leg and took one of the screws from Beckett’s outstretched hand. “Dunno, but something is definitely up.”
Beckett didn’t know a lot about Mallory’s life over the last couple of years, and it was entirely his fault. He wasn’t on social media, so he had no idea if she was sharing her life with the world. But he felt like she wouldn’t, it didn’t seem like Mallory. For all her love of celebrity gossip and tabloid magazines, she was a fairly private person.
After clearing his throat, Beckett asked the one question he needed an answer for. “Do you think it’s boyfriend trouble?” Beckett couldn’t be certain, but he felt his heart stop beating while Evan answered his question.
With a scoff, he said, “Mal doesn’t have a boyfriend. I haven’t seen her with a guy since that last online dating disaster.”
White-hot rage surged through Beckett as his heart pounded. Granted he didn’t want Mallory to date anyone, but experiencing a toxic relationship was far worse. “What did he do?” His tone was so stern, Evan looked up and blinked at his stormy expression.
“Calm down, Foxy. He was just a tool she met online. They went on like two dates until she found out he was married.”
Beckett ran a hand down his face, bumping his glasses from his nose. Quickly adjusting them, he asked, “And did you rip the guy limb from limb?”
Evan snorted. “I did my part, but so did her bestie Alice. When Mal told Alice, I’m pretty sure the guy needed to leave Ohio and change his name. If that guy is still married, his wife took at least one of his balls. Mal and Alice got the other.”
Shoulders slumping, Beckett relaxed. “Good, I’m glad she’s got friends like that.” He meant it, but he also wished that was still his job—running the bad guys out of her life. The trouble was, Beckett was the bad guy. He’d been careless and lied about his feelings for Mallory. It was an error he’d been beating himself over for two years now, and he needed to figure out a way to move past it.
Sitting here with Evan, laughing and messing around like old times, felt one step closer to his old self. Beckett didn’t have anyone left, and he couldn’t lose his friendship with Evan any more than he could lose his relationship with Mallory. Beckett had to figure out this emotional house of cards before it all fell apart.