CHAPTER 14
A fter a week of not hearing from Beckett, Mallory’s curiosity got the better of her. He’d stopped texting and calling after three days of being ignored, and she couldn’t blame him. Yet she herself hadn’t come to a decision on how to move forward. Evan had happily informed her of the impending engagement party and his expectations for her and Beckett to plan it. She needed to find a way to talk with him that would not drive her up the wall with nerves.
As luck would have it, Beckett was due back for a follow-up appointment for his wound, and she decided to take matters into her own hands—literally. Mallory cornered Janis at her desk when she arrived for her shift. Did she put a little extra effort into her appearance? Maybe. Did she hope Beckett would notice? Definitely. Did she think this was a fool’s errand? Hell yes.
“Hey, hun,” Janis greeted from her perch, four different pens stuck in her up-do. Since it was the beginning of her shift, she was involved in a complicated array of spreadsheets.
Janis was a little older than Mallory and had fallen into the older-sister role on the job. She looked out for Mallory, but also knew when to have a little fun. They were overdue for a drink after work, and Mallory made a mental note to not close herself off again. Having friends was important, no matter her dating status.
“Hey, Janis. Can I ask a favor?” Mallory held a clipboard with the day’s schedule and a hopeful expression.
At her words, Janis looked up and blinked. “Someone is all dolled up today. Did I miss your birthday?”
Mallory laughed. “No, just thought I would wear a little makeup.” Any by a little, she meant mascara, lip liner, and some highlighter she borrowed from Alice. Her chocolate hair was braided into a complicated twist that gathered in a halo around her crown. Compared to her normal top knot and chapstick, she looked like she was ready for the prom. I’m an idiot, she mused.
“Well, you look lovely. What can I do for you?”
Mallory warmed at Janis’s compliment and brandished the clipboard. “There’s a patient coming in this afternoon for a follow-up from last weekend. I see that Nancy is listed as helping Dr. Shuptar, but I was hoping you could swap our bookings. It’s Mr. Fox at four o’clock.” She offered a smile that probably looked more deranged than friendly, but Janis didn’t seem to notice.
“No skin off my back.” Janis clicked away on her screen for a moment before turning around and retrieving a stack of papers from the small printer at her desk. “You mind updating everyone’s clipboards? The digital calendar is set.”
“You’re the best, Janis.” Mallory greedily took the sheets and spun around on her heels. Before she ran away, she hastily added, “You want to grab a coffee next week after a shift?”
Janis winked. “Sure thing, hun. That’d be nice.” Mallory was three paces away when she added, “Unless you’re busy with Mr. Fox.”
Busted. Mallory stifled a giggle and ran to her first patient of the day.
Her first patient was an elderly man with a nasty cut on his arm from a “complicated fight with a lawnmower.” It took her and another nurse nearly an hour to stitch him up and stop the bleeding. Next it was a little girl who had shoved twelve peas up her tiny nose. Her mother was scolding her in between tears, but the girl only shrugged. “I was trying to beat my record. Last week it was only ten.” She held up her chubby hands to count her progress. Before her lunch break, she helped with a horrible automobile crash that looked like a scene from an episode of ER .
By the time Beckett’s appointment rolled around, Mallory felt her makeup deserved an industry award for staying power. Although her braid required a few extra pins, she was externally as ready as she would be. The exam room door was closed with a red tag hanging from the handle. It was the hospital’s way of alerting staff that a patient was inside. After taking another long breath, she knocked on the door and stepped inside.
Beckett was seated on the exam table, his long legs dangling from the edge. Much like herself, he’d put a little work into his appearance. His red hair was slicked back, his glasses were clear of smudges, and he wore an Oxford shirt that looked like it had seen an iron in the last week.
At first, neither of them spoke, the only sound in the room that of the door snicking shut behind her. Mallory held her clipboard to her chest like a shield. “Hi,” she said simply, unable to think of any other words in the English language.
Beckett raised a hand in greeting. “Hey.”
“Hi,” she repeated, feeling like a first-class moron. These two shared decades of history, and all she could muster were repeated one-word greetings. This is going really well...
“I’m glad it’s you,” Beckett hurriedly added. “I mean, I wasn’t sure if you would want to see me. I contemplated fixing the shutters again, but I thought with my luck I’d fall to my death.” He snorted and rolled his eyes, shoving his glasses up his nose. Even with the distance between them, she could see a thumbprint from where she stood. She felt better knowing he was this nervous. It was a good sign, right?
“I don’t want you falling to your death,” she added, shaking her head. “Obviously.”
“That’s good.” Beckett nodded, wiggling around on the exam table, the sound of crinkling paper echoing in the tiny room. “How are you?”
“Pfft, I should be asking you that question. Any swelling, discoloration, pain, or joint issues?” This was safe, medical questions were safe territory.
Beckett frowned. “Mal...”
“Because we should be mindful of any signs of infection or permanent damage to your hand.”
“I don’t care about my hand,” he said, color rising in his cheeks. “I didn’t come here for my hand.” He held it up for her to see, the bandage gone and a small Band-aid in its place. He flexed his fingers to prove his point. “I came here to see you. I’m not kidding. If you weren’t here, I would have borrowed one of the crayons from a kid in the lobby and shoved it up my nose.” He chuckled at his own joke and Mallory wondered if the little girl with the peas had moved on to bigger challenges.
“Beckett.” Simply saying his name brought her pulse skyrocketing. Despite everything that happened last weekend, she missed him deeply. Since having him back in her life, every day without him felt hollow and boring, like a mozzarella stick without the cheese.
“I want to talk about the engagement party.”
His words drew her back a step, bringing her crashing down to earth. “You want to talk about Evan and CeCe’s wedding?”
Beckett held up both his hands. “No! Crap, this is not coming out right at all.”
Before he could continue, Dr. Shuptar came in. A man in his late forties, he was no-nonsense but also kindhearted. “Sorry to keep you waiting, Mr. Fox. Let’s look at your hand. I appreciate you coming in. Since you don’t have your primary care physician set up, we like to have a professional stay on top of wound care.” Glancing up from this tablet, he caught the expression between Mallory and Beckett. “Is everything okay?”
Dr. Shuptar had helped another nurse the month before with a very grabby patient who misunderstood the request of “I need you to take your top off” as an invitation to take off all his clothes. He’d handled the situation beautifully, managing not to humiliate the nurse but also keep everyone safe.
Fearing that was where his mind was going now, Mallory blurted out, “Beckett is not a pervert.”
Both men looked at her like she’d sprouted another head, and frankly, she wished she had. Perhaps a second brain would help her out of her current conundrum. “Huh?” Beckett asked, his cheeks flashing his trademark red. If the situation didn’t improve soon, he’d probably be admitted for a flushing problem. He was as red as a tomato.
Dr. Shuptar’s lip quirked and he shook his head. “Noted. I’ll update Mr. Fox’s file.”
Beckett scratched the back of his neck. “Am I missing something?”
Mallory wheeled over a stand with examination tools and turned up the lights. “Just erm, standard hospital documentation.” Now it was her turn to change colors, her face flashing an unflattering shade of violet. Maybe she’d get lucky and the ground would open up and swallow her whole.
Five minutes later, Dr. Shuptar confirmed that Beckett’s hand had, in fact, healed nicely. His ankle was also on the upswing, barely swollen under his socks. He was given basic care instructions and discharged. “Come back and see us if you run into any other issues, and I recommend hiring professionals for those home improvement projects.” The doctor smirked and left them alone again.
As soon as the door was closed, Beckett jumped off the exam table and strode toward Mallory. “Beckett’s not a pervert? I guess I’m relieved to hear that.”
Mallory peeled off her rubber gloves and tossed them in the trash. “I thought it was worth noting.”
“Was it a real concern?”
She nearly felt guilty for the look on his face, but then she remembered their last interaction and shook away the guilt. “You wouldn’t believe some of the characters that come to the ER. Sadly, it’s worth noting when patients aren’t Ted Bundy.”
Beckett took a step closer, shoving his hands in his pockets as if he was afraid to get too close. “Sometimes I really worry about you, Mal. Are you safe here?” His eyes were unblinking, a pensive expression on his freckled face.
Mallory warmed at his concern but soldiered on. “Yes, as safe as anyone is anymore. The hospital has great security, and all the doctors are receptive to our concerns when we have them.”
“That’s something at least,” he muttered. He kicked at the tiled floor, scuffing his shoe.
An alarm sounded outside their room, and Mallory knew it was all hands on deck. “I have to go. That’s a code red.” She threw the door open and took a step before she felt Beckett’s hand on her shoulder.
“Have dinner with me tonight.” It wasn’t a question, and she wished she had the time to dissect this new expression on his face. Was that hope she saw through his crooked glasses?
“I—” Alarms rang all around them, and Mallory cursed her job of saving lives. Right now the person in dire need of medical attention was her.
“Please, Mal.”
Nurses and doctors raced past them, and Mallory had to move. “I don’t know if I have time to come out to the house.”
Beckett shook his head. “I’m back at my apartment. Stop by whenever you’re off work, I’ll be there.”
“Nurse Lawson!” someone shouted beyond them, and Mallory reluctantly pulled free of Beckett’s hold.
“I get off at six, but that’s only if this isn’t pure chaos.”
“Whenever you’re ready. I’ll be there.”
Mallory offered a quick tip of her head before she turned and ran toward the admissions area. As horrible as the scene was that greeted her, she was relieved to have a reprieve from Beckett—and his touch. Even his fingers grazing her shoulder had burned her like a branding. Her heart told her to stay away from him, to keep things platonic and focus on the wedding planning. But there was something about his tone, something about the soft expression behind his smudged gaze that drew her back in.
Once again, Mallory was powerless to stop the pull to Beckett Fox. At least she worked with one of the top medical teams in the Midwest. Perhaps it was time to find a cardiologist to address the issue of her erratic heart.
*
W hen Beckett got back to his apartment, he immediately slumped onto the couch. The apartment was nice, or nice enough, but after spending so much time back at the farm house, he wondered what the hell he was doing. It wasn’t that he was past his grief, far from it, but being back at the old place wasn’t as painful as he thought it would be. Granted there was a five-foot-four distraction with chocolate braids that helped, but she wasn’t there now.
But she would be here soon, and that was something.
Understanding that they couldn’t live on takeout alone, Beckett had stopped by the market for a few things to make dinner. He chopped vegetables for a salad and got the fixings for French bread pizza together. Was this a ploy for Mallory to lower her guard? Absolutely. Was he ashamed of his methods? Absolutely not. If the nostalgia of bread and cheese made her smile, he’d make it for her every day of his life.
When dinner was prepped and ready, Beckett’s watch told him he still had an hour until her shift was over. Unable to focus on the television, he booted up his laptop and logged into World of Warcraft and kicked up his feet. Getting lost in a world of magic and warriors felt like a vacation right about now.
His gaming buddy WickedWarri0rBr0 was on, and Beckett typed out a message.
FoxyMage96: Hey man, got time for a quick raid?
WickedWarri0rBr0: For you, Foxy, of course.
Beckett’s lips quirked as the nickname, knowing this stranger and Evan had never met. There was something to be said for having connections like this one, anonymous people who shared a hobby and generally kept the drama low. There were no expectations—save from keeping each other’s characters alive—and that was what Beckett loved about it.
When his parents divorced, they’d bought him a gaming console as a consolation prize at the end of his childhood. Within hours of logging into his first game, Beckett was hooked. As a pre-teen boy with a newfound distrust of the world, being able to kill faceless enemies made him feel alive. What he didn’t expect, and to this day still enjoyed, were the online friendships. WickedWarri0rBr0 was just one of the guys he’d met along the way, and he felt like a virtual version of Evan. Although there was one big exception—Evan didn’t know he was in love with Mallory.
WickedWarri0rBr0: What’s your plans tonight? Can’t imagine a single guy wants to spend all night on WoW.
FoxyMage96: You’d be surprised. I only have an hour. A friend’s coming over for dinner.
WickedWarri0rBr0: A friend or a friend . He helpfully added some NSFW emojis, causing Beckett to snort.
FoxyMage96: I wish, man. She’s really just a friend.
But even as Beckett typed the words, he knew they weren’t true. Mallory had always been more, and it was becoming impossible to pretend otherwise. His life made sense when she was in it, and not just as the sidekick to his and Evan’s shenanigans.
WickedWarri0rBr0: Uh oh, please tell me it’s Mallory.
FoxyMage96: And what if it is?
WickedWarri0rBr0: Then I say log off right now and get ready, dude. When I met my wife, I did everything I could to impress her. Flowers, food...clean T-shirts. Once I even wowed her with aftershave.
FoxyMage96: LOL. Wow, you’re a prince among men.
WickedWarri0rBr0: ::king emoji::
FoxyMage96: Already have dinner prepped. I’m not a total slouch.
WickedWarri0rBr0: What’s the plan? You going to tell her how you feel?
FoxyMage96: Yeah, because that’s gone well in the past. ::laughing while crying emoji:: ::face palm emoji::
WickedWarri0rBr0: Not to get all philosophical on you, but love is a lot like this raid we’re on.
He paused long enough to kill a dragon, helping Beckett cast a spell on another incoming foe.
WickedWarri0rBr0: You need to put the work into it and trust your partner. Tell her you’re all in, and then go from there.
Beckett frowned, knowing his buddy spoke the truth. But offering platitudes was a hell of a lot easier than putting your heart on the line with the woman you’d shattered before. Their relationship had always been about timing. When one of them was all in, the other wasn’t. Or worse, they were chicken and too afraid to commit. Needless to say, Beckett was the chicken in this scenario.
FoxyMage96: Appreciate the advice, man. I better log off and get ready.
WickedWarri0rBr0: You’ve got this, Foxy. Just being your charming self. If that doesn’t work, cast a love spell. ::winky face emoji::
FoxyMage96: I’ll do my best.
Beckett logged off and tidied up the apartment. It was sparsely decorated, but at least it was neat. He wasn’t much for a cluttered space, until the clutter meant something. Gram’s old sugar bowls and tea pots filled the farm house with a cozy warmth, but they would look ludicrous on his IKEA bookshelf.
Idly, he wondered if Mallory wanted them. She’d always enjoyed tea parties with Gram as a girl, and it would make Gram happy to know they were getting used and loved instead of spending eternity in storage. Much like himself, but he wasn’t going there now.
Twenty minutes later, he heard a quiet knock at the front door. Beckett checked his appearance on his phone before jogging to the door. His glasses, for once, were clean and his hair was as tame as his curls would allow. Not wanting to appear too eager, he’d opted for jeans and a T-shirt. Swinging the door open, he was knocked back on his heels by Mallory. She’d changed since the hospital, wearing a pair of leggings and a curve-hugging blouse that his fingers itched to unbutton. Real gentlemanly, Foxy.
“Hey,” Mallory said with a wave, a timid smile on her lips.
“Hi.” His response came in a husky whisper. The fading sunlight cast Mallory in a glow that looked better suited for his videogames than the real world, golden flecks popping in her hair. Gripping the door handle, Beckett tried to think of unsexy things like baseball or taxes—anything to keep himself in check. They had to talk, then he’d kiss the hell out of her.
Mallory held up a bottle of wine. “I brought wine.”
Good, liquid courage was good. “Good,” he stammered, feeling like an idiot. How had they ever managed full conversations over the last fifteen years?
“Good,” she replied, blinking at him like he’d officially lost his sanity. “Um...” She held up the bottle, waggling her eyebrows. “How about you invite me in and we have some?”
Muttering a curse, Beckett stepped back and let Mallory pass. Her signature blackberry scent followed her into his apartment, and his knees nearly buckled. He needed to get a grip, and fast.
Becket led the way into the kitchen and pulled out a chair. “Have a seat. I’ll get the cork screw.”
Mallory giggled. “No need. I went fancy and got a twist top.” She punctuated her point by opening the bottle and dropping the cap with a clatter to the table. “I assumed this low rent Pinot Noir goes with French bread pizza,” she said casually.
Beckett grabbed a pair of glasses before bumping into his chair. In his haste to sit, Mallory had to catch the bottle as it threatened to tip over. “Am I that predictable?”
Mallory smirked. “I’m not saying it’s a bad thing.” She poured the wine and handed him a glass. Their fingers grazed, and Beckett felt a jolt of awareness bolt through him. That was always how it was with Mallory, simmering heat that followed him like a shadow. “To your clean bill of health,” she toasted.
Beckett dutifully clinked glasses. “We’re not sending people to hell tonight? How boring.”
“The night is young, and this is only our first glass.” She gave him a look he needed the Rosetta Stone to decipher. Her blue eyes sparkled, like she was in a joke and he was the punchline. Mallory’s shoulders were relaxed, her legs crossed and posture casual. She seemed at home with him, and he could feel it in his bones.
“Should I put our predictable dinner in the oven? I made a salad too, just to throw you off your game.” He winked, hoping it looked more flirtatious than squinty.
Mallory sipped and nodded. “Yes, please. I missed lunch today, and I’m about to devour this stack of napkins.”
“How bad was that code red?” he asked, busying himself with finishing dinner. When Mallory tried to stand to set the table, he gently pushed her back into her chair. “And don’t even think about helping. How was work?”
For a moment, she didn’t respond, and he had to turn around to make sure she was listening. A funny expression flitted across her lovely face before she recovered and took another sip. “Well, it was a multi-car collision from 70. Fortunately, everyone made it, including the staff. When there’s that much chaos, that much noise and adrenaline, I almost fear one of us will pass out from the stress. But we always rally, support each other. It’s a good team, and I’m lucky to be there.”
Beckett diced a tomato and added it to the salad bowl before joining her at the table. “I think you’re pretty amazing, handling that kind of work day in and day out. You’re a superhero, Mal.”
“Pfft, just doing my job.”
Beckett slid her salad to her, taking a moment to linger. Cupping her cheek, he tilted her head up and snagged her gaze. “Don’t do that,” he ordered.
“Do what?” she asked, her voice barely audible.
“Diminish your career, how hard you work. Very few people can handle that kind of stress, let alone thrive in it. You’re amazing.”
“Oh.” It was all she could manage, her mouth forming the letter as she leaned into his touch. His thumb slid over her bottom lip, which was tinged a plum purple from the wine. He passed his thumb over the plump skin again, this time rewarded with a quick nibble.
Beckett’s knees gave out, and he knelt before her. Mallory swiveled in her seat until they were facing each other. She mussed his hair, her hand sliding down until it rested on his shoulders. “What are we doing?”
Beckett closed the distance and swallowed her question. He didn’t have answers, but he did have an undying need to taste the wine on her lips.
The kiss was hungry, frantic. Mallory pulled him closer, grasping his shirt in an unforgiving fist. Beckett cupped her face and deepened the kiss. Her lips tasted like a mix of her cinnamon gum and the spicy wine. A tiny moan escaped her, and Beckett felt his skin combust.
The truth was, he had no idea what they were doing, and he didn’t care. Having Mallory back in his space, sitting in his tiny kitchen doing the most mundane routine of any couple, he couldn’t fathom life without her. He wanted to hear about her days every night over a bottle of wine. He wanted to support her, laugh with her, love her like she deserved. But right now, this kiss was more than enough, and judging from the way Mallory clawed at him, she was enjoying the moment too. That was enough for Beckett, at least for the moment. He had bigger plans, plans that included their current activity every day.