CHAPTER 10
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M allory wasn’t going to scream, she wasn’t. She was a grown-ass woman who wasn’t afraid of thunderstorms or the dark...or the churning in her gut. Nope, she could handle this. A boom of thunder sounded overhead, shaking the farm house, the vibrations coursing to the soles of her sneakers.
Beckett reached out, snatching her hand, and tugging her to this side. “We’re going to lose power in a second,” he warned, fumbling in his pocket with his good hand for his cell phone. By the time he turned on the flashlight app, another clap of thunder echoed overhead. Before Mallory could react, a bolt of lightning coursed through the sky. The room lit up for an instant, long enough for her to see the worried expression on Beckett’s face.
“It’ll be fine,” she said, mostly to calm herself. She wasn’t going to be a baby about this, she wasn’t. When a third round of thunder and lightning hit, the house went dark and Mallory yelped.
Wasting no time, Beckett shone his phone’s light around them. “Grab the sheets, Mal. I think it’s time for that fort.” Never releasing her hand, he hobbled to the couch and moved a stack of newspapers onto the floor with an unceremonious thud. Mallory side-stepped the pile and joined him, careful to stay close enough so he didn’t drop her hand. It was childish, but she’d savor any contact with Beckett.
Once they were settled, he turned off the light and opened his weather app. The blue light reflected off his glasses, which were again slightly crooked. Using her free hand, Mallory tilted them back into place without a word. Beckett was so lost in his musings he hadn’t noticed. It was probably for the best, she told herself. Platonic friends don’t make a habit of touching each other’s faces. They also don’t hold hands or kiss passionately over cheeseburgers, and yet here we are...
Beckett muttered a curse before pocketing his cell phone. “Looks like it’s a really bad storm. That cold front is going to mess with things all night.” He flopped back onto the cushion and huffed a sigh, but he still held her hand.
Mallory tucked her feet under herself and followed suit, nestling as close to Beckett as she could without being obvious. Thank the Lord the man wasn’t a mind reader, otherwise, he’d probably bolt out into the heart of the storm to get away from her love-starved actions. They needed to be smart about whatever this was. It’s like hiking in the woods without a map. They needed to stay on the trail or risk getting lost and eaten by a grizzly bear. Well, that wasn’t the best analogy, but Mallory was exhausted.
For a moment, neither of them moved. They were as still as marble statues in a museum. Finally, Beckett’s thumb traced lazy circles over her knuckles. The pattern was known only to him, but she shivered at his touch. “Are you cold?” he asked, sitting up and releasing her hand. She missed the contact instantly.
“Not really. I guess I’m still a big baby about thunderstorms.” She laughed, but it sounded hollow.
Beckett stood and stumbled over to a stack of boxes by the door. It was clear he favored his good leg, and Mallory cursed her subpar nursing skills as he made his way around the room. At first, she feared he was going to run outside for something, but instead, he pulled out a hoodie and joined her back on the couch. “Here. It’s one of my old college hoodies.” Without asking permission, he unzipped it and draped it around her. His hands rested on her shoulders a moment longer than necessary, as if he wasn’t done sharing space with her either.
“Thank you,” Mallory said, covertly sniffing the fabric for any hint of Beckett. Even when they were kids, he had this warm, cedar scent that clung to him. The sweatshirt smelled faintly of detergent, and she tried not to be disappointed.
“You’re welcome,” he replied, his voice husky. Instead of sliding back to his cushion, he flung his arm over the back of the couch and leaned in until their legs touched. Mallory forced herself not to react, just in case he’d spook and pull away. She didn’t think she could handle not having him close right now.
Call it the storm, or maybe it was just being back in this old house with him, but Mallory never wanted to leave. She was desperate to cling to whatever part of Beckett he was willing to give her until he moved on. Because wasn’t that what always happened? Just when it seemed like they were on the same page, he’d up and leave town for one reason or another. In some ways she couldn’t fault him. She knew she was lucky growing up in a home with siblings and parents who loved her. Granted their version of love sometimes felt cloying, but they were her family. Now with Gramps gone, Beckett really didn’t have anyone. He has you, her traitorous heart chanted. He’s always had you.
Resting her head on Beckett’s shoulder, she asked the one question that had been on the tip of her tongue since they arrived. “How are you holding up?”
“Fine.” His response was too quick to be genuine, but Mallory wasn’t letting him off the hook.
“It’s okay if you’re not fine, you know. I know you want to help Evan with the wedding and everything, but you’re allowed to grieve.”
Staying silent for what felt like an eternity, Beckett finally cleared his throat. “I miss them.” His voice was so quiet, Mallory could hardly hear him over the pelting rain against the window. He didn’t often open up about his feelings, but when he did, it was best not to interrupt. Even the slightest distraction was an excuse to stop talking. So Mallory leaned closer and held her breath, knowing he’d fill in the gaps when he was ready.
*
T he sun rose as it always did, filling the farm house with ribbons of sunlight. Bird song filled the air, proving the storm was long gone. Beckett woke with a headache that nearly blinded him and a sore ankle he’d love to forget. More importantly, Mallory was still plastered beside him. Her quiet snores mixed with the whistles from the birds, creating a symphony Beckett committed to memory.
Being back at the house was surreal. Beckett kept blinking, waiting for Gramps to saunter in from the kitchen, a can of his favorite beer in hand. Within thirty seconds of popping the top, Gram was by his side with a pot of herbal tea and a scowl on her face. “That’s not good for your heart,” she’d chide as she filled a mug they all knew Gramps wouldn’t touch.
“C’mon, woman, it’s been a day.” That was always Gramps’s excuse. Whether it was a good day or a bad day, the man wanted a beer with his nighttime TV watching.
Closing his eyes, Beckett rested his head on top of Mallory’s. She’d nestled against him, anchoring him to the present. He couldn’t lie, it was a good place to be. Sure, he wished his grandparents were here, but having his girl by his side certainly made the task of moving up bearable.
Go get your girl...
Gramps’s words ricocheted through his skull on a loop, as if the old man himself were sitting with them.
“The only consolation is that they’re together now,” he muttered on an exhale. Mallory didn’t react, just like he knew she would. Back when they were kids, Evan and Beckett would talk about all sorts of things. He never felt like Evan couldn’t handle the heavy stuff, but Mallory would listen. Evan had the right responses, platitudes that boys told each other to get onto the next thing. Mallory would hold your hand or sit next to you while you opened a vein and shared painful truths.
The biggest truth of the moment was that Beckett was lonely. The solace he got from knowing his grandparents were reunited in the Great Beyond was tainted by the fact that he was now alone. After the funerals, his father barely contacted him. Gramps’s will was iron clad, confirming everything was left to Beckett. The farm, the house, what little money remained...it all went to Beckett.
He remembered the look on the lawyer’s face when he read it, surprised that their only son didn’t receive a dime. For as shocked as Beckett was, his father was not. Unlike with his mother’s death, Mike Fox hadn’t bothered to show up. His attorney had contacted the estate’s attorney, and when he learned the truth, he didn’t bother coming back to Ohio.
Despite how painful their interaction at Gram’s funeral had been, Beckett wanted to see his father at Gramp’s. He’d hoped the shock of losing both parents would jump start a paternal gene in his father; that he’d want to come out and check on his boy. It was almost like the death of his parents freed Beckett’s own father from coming back to Ohio—and Beckett still didn’t know how to feel about that. Was no father better than a callous one?
In a weak moment the day before the funeral, Beckett reached out to his mom. He thought him calling would be enough for her to take it seriously, but she let his calls go to voicemail. Rather than calling her son to see how he was doing, she sent a few text messages lamenting her busy schedule with his half-brothers and step-dad. Message received; she didn’t care about what her firstborn needed.
Beckett shuddered at the memory, feeling the prickle of tears behind his eyes. He really didn’t want to cry right now, especially in front of Mallory. She’d seen him cry before, but he wasn’t in the mood for it now.
“Morning,” she muttered, yawning into his chest as she wiggled awake.
Beckett didn’t overthink, leaning down to kiss her temple. The flyaway hairs from her braid tickled his nose, but he didn’t care. “Good morning.” He breathed the words into her skin, loving the warmth seeping into his body.
“How are you feeling?” she asked, raising an eyebrow as she flexed his hand.
It was impossible to hide the grimace as his muscles flexed and his injury woke up. “Fine,” he said through clenched teeth.
Mallory made to get up, trying to push off the couch despite his arm being wrapped firmly around her shoulder. “Let me get you some pain meds and ice for your ankle.”
“In a minute,” he held tight and she soon gave up the fight, falling back against the couch cushions.
“You’re a horrible patient,” she teased, her words holding no heat.
“I’m enjoying the moment,” he admitted, blinking awake and truly taking in the scene before them.
The house was half full, a mix of Gram’s antique furniture and Beckett’s odds and ends. He knew he needed to do more to get the house ready to sell, but that felt like a Herculean task. What wasn’t a stretch was spending a few quiet moments with Mallory.
Picking up on his mood, Mallory sighed. “It’s so nice being back here, but it does feel different.”
Mallory was like a truth serum. Her proximity pulled honesty from deep down, regardless of if Beckett wanted to utter the words. Despite the dry eyes, Beckett couldn’t keep his thoughts from pouring out. “I’m alone, Mal. They’re gone, my parents aren’t coming back, and I’m truly alone.”
There, that wasn’t so hard. He’d shared his painful truth, and now Mallory could laugh in his face and leave him to pick up the pieces. It was what he deserved, and Beckett wouldn’t blame her a moment or two of schadenfreude.
Mallory took his hand and squeezed it so hard he felt her rings dig into his skin. Her fierce response was surprising but not unwelcome. “You’re not alone, Beckett. You have friends, people who care.”
“Pfft,” Beckett snorted. “I’m hardly a social butterfly.”
“That doesn’t mean you don’t have people in your corner.” Mallory insisted.
Beckett blinked, trying to picture this spectacular social circle. His coworkers in finance mustered up enough effort to send a sympathy card when Gramps passed. Although, thinking back, one of his workers called him Bernard.
Granted, he had his gamer friends, virtual friendships that were hardly deep or taxing. Some of those guys had been in his internet circle since the first time he logged into World of Warcraft in high school. He enjoyed his time with that crew, but they weren’t here picking apples or holding the ladder so he didn’t shoot himself in the hand.
“I don’t know,” he grumbled.
Mallory wasn’t having it. “You have Evan and most importantly, you have me.”
“Do I?” He turned to face her, hoping the morning light would hide the fear in his own gaze. “Because we’re friends?”
He couldn’t be sure, but Mallory’s expression flashed to a look of fear before she blinked and squeezed his hand again. “Yes, because we’re friends, but Beckett...”
Mallory’s words faltered, her eyes falling closed. She tensed beside him, and he pulled her flush against his frame. A hint of her tart perfume hit his nostrils, and Beckett had to focus on breathing. Being this close to Mallory was a new form of torture. He wanted to pull her closer and kiss her senseless. He wanted to put into action how he felt about her. He wanted everything from Mallory, and it scared the hell out of him.
“But what?”
“But...” Her explanation died on her lips when he turned her to face him. Staring at her through his smudged glasses, he was gob smacked by how beautiful she was. Even in her rumpled scrubs and limp ponytail, she was a sight to behold. Her eyes shone with concern and something else. The apples of her cheeks were pink, and her lips were plump and so kissable Beckett wanted to scream.
Why was he such a coward? Why couldn’t he tell her the truth? That he was in love with her and had been for as long as he could remember. He’d been in love with her that day on the hill out back, holding her hand and seeing the future in her cornflower eyes. He’d been in love with her at the middle school dances, when they’d swayed to horrible pop music in the gymnasium. He’d been in love with her in high school, when they’d sneak out of study hall to practice kissing under the bleachers. He’d been in love with her after college, when he’d lied to his best friend and broke all their hearts. God, if only he could turn back time...
Mallory blinked and leaned forward to grab the stack of sheets at her feet. “Well, I think we should find your meds and...”
Beckett watched helplessly as Mallory went back into nurse mode and pushed to her feet.
“Let me help,” he offered, but Mallory pushed him down by the shoulder.
“Nope. I’m more than capable of cleaning up a fort. I’m not that rusty.” She sidestepped the couch and pulled the bedding free. In their haste to avoid the effects of the thunderstorm, Beckett had forgotten about their pile of sheets and pillows. All that he cared about was the woman under the covers...the woman pulling away from him now.
Within minutes, the couch was transformed back to its original boring state. Beckett tried to hide his frown, but it was no use. “You and Evan still do Kung-fu movie nights, don’t you?” He smiled at the memory, even though he wished he’d been there. When he’d ghosted Mallory, he had lost more than just her. He missed countless memories they could have shared. It gutted him still.
“Is that even a reasonable question?” She mocked him, helping him ease back onto the pillow stack.
Beckett snaked his hand around her wrist, stopping her from retreating. “What’s the rush? Sit with me.” Her lips quirked at the invitation, and he was relieved that she didn’t automatically say no. “My pain pills can wait another few minutes.” She still didn’t say anything, so Beckett went in with the big guns. “I’m lonely.”
He watched her face sag as his words hit their target. “Okay, but no funny business.” She wagged a finger at him before crawling back onto the couch.
Over the years, Beckett had laid awake and fantasized about this very moment. Okay, in his fantasies he didn’t have a gimpy leg and a bum hand, but Mallory was always there. Now she wiggled into place, her rump grazing his torso, sending a bolt of awareness to places that need to stay calm. Now was not the time to act like a pubescent boy. Think about baseball...
Mallory’s breathing slowed and she whispered, “I missed you, Beckett.”
Before he could stop himself or think rationally, Beckett angled himself so he could see her profile. Her eyes were closed, giving him the confidence he needed. Without hesitating, he leaned down and brushed his lips on her temple. It was far from the passionate kiss the night before, but it was perfect nonetheless. “I missed you too, Mal.”
Resting her head on his shoulder, she exhaled two years’ worth of doubts. “What are we doing?” she asked, her question nearly swallowed up by his racing heart.
Beckett wished he was cool; one of those guys who said something suave and had women falling at his feet. But that was never him. Since he knew he couldn’t give her the answers she wanted, he gave her the truth. “I have no idea.”
She chuckled, angling closer to his middle as she draped her arm over his stomach. “I can’t lose you again.”
“I can’t lose you again either, Mal. You’re too damn important.”
For a while, no one spoke. As the birds carried on with their chorus outside, Mallory drifted off to sleep in Beckett’s embrace. Her breathing evened out, her mouth slightly agape.
Beckett flexed his hand and rested it over her shoulder, keeping her close. “I love you,” he whispered into her hair, careful not to wake her.
It could have been his imagination or the remaining medications in his system, but he thought he heard Mallory say, “I love you, too.”
A guy could dream, right?