Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
BECKETT
I’m thinking about Griffin as I walk down Whether Street later that morning, after Eliza gave me a ride to town to pick up my truck.
This is not new. It feels like I’ve been thinking about nothing but Griffin for the past couple of weeks. Now I just have a whole bunch of new stuff to obsess over.
Like the goofy grin on his face when he looked at the photos Mom and Eliza hung on my wall, and how vulnerable he’d looked when he talked about losing the job he loved… and the way he practically fled my cabin like it was on fire later.
The temporary truce he offered should make me feel better, but instead, I’m worried about him. The man who teased me and claimed me at the Brine and Dandy, who turned off the gravity in my brain last night, was shaken.
I don’t know how to fix those problems if he doesn’t want to talk to me, though. And fuck knows, I have problems of my own I’ve been avoiding…
Shit I’m not putting off any longer.
When I arrive at Watchfire, my dad’s already sitting in his usual booth by the window, nursing a cup of coffee and staring out at the street with the distant look he gets when he’s thinking too hard about something. His crossword puzzle sits untouched at his elbow.
But he’s here. And that says something.
I slide into the booth across from him, and he looks up with a smile.
“Thanks for meeting me,” I say.
“Course. I was glad to get your text.” He gestures to Tania, one of Ames’s servers, and she brings over another cup of coffee.
“I was planning to help your mother with the fall decorations over at the Abigail. We were gonna play my favorite game, That Garland’s Too High, Grant!
That Garland’s Too Low, Grant!” He shakes his head fondly.
“When she heard you texted, she got Ames to pinch-hit for the first round.”
I laugh, and it’s so freaking normal and good—easier than we’ve talked in ages—that I almost take it as a conversational peace offering. And almost punt the hard stuff.
But Holden was right that this has gone on too long, and True’s words are still playing in my head. Even Griffin saw something in those photos that made him sure I’ve been misinterpreting things. It’s past time I stop running from this conversation.
That doesn’t mean I know how to start it, though.
I take a deep breath. “So, ah… we have temporary access to the Far Tract, starting Monday. In case you were stressing about that.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “Griffin agreed to let you through?”
“He did. This morning.”
Dad nods. “And that’s why you texted?” He gives me a lopsided grin and taps his chest. “Wanted to make sure I wasn’t putting too much stress on the ticker?”
“That, yeah.” I pause. “Actually, that’s not the only thing I wanted to talk about. I’ve been… I think I’ve been handling things wrong. Between us, I mean.”
Dad sets down his coffee cup and gives me his full attention.
“I was angry at you,” I admit. “About the land sale. About the finances. About you not telling me. And I know… I know you were doing your best, so maybe that’s not fair of me, but—”
“I fucked up,” Dad interrupts. “I know it, Beck. I knew it, even while it was happening.” He turns his mug carefully one way and then the other.
For a long moment, he doesn’t say anything, just stares out the window at the morning foot traffic.
Finally, he sighs. “I just thought I’d have plenty of time to make it right before you ever had to know. ”
I wasn’t expecting him to admit it so directly. A weight that’s been sitting on my chest for a year starts to lift. “Dad—”
“Let me finish. Please. I’ve wanted to talk to you about this for a while, but I…
I guess I didn’t know how.” His eyes, a match to my own, meet mine across the table.
“From the moment you showed the first sign of loving Axford Lumber, of wanting it to be your future, I had a dream of leaving you a strong, thriving business. A solid foundation that you could launch even higher. Instead, I left you with a mess, scrambling to save something I should’ve saved myself.
And I’m sorry about that. Really damn sorry. ”
Tania bustles over to deliver my coffee and a plate of cinnamon rolls she says Ames baked this morning. Dad gives her a polite smile, but as soon as she’s gone, his smile fades.
“It’s like this, Beck: I was ashamed. I didn’t want to admit I’d messed up.
That’s why I didn’t tell you. It was pride, pure and simple.
I believed in the way I was running things.
I believe in helping our neighbors, in serving our community.
But folks had a few bad years, couldn’t pay when they should.
I took out loans I thought were temporary… And I let it go too far.”
He looks tired, and my throat tightens because I can see how much this conversation is costing him. Before I can say that, though, he leans forward and speaks again.
“It sucks getting old, son. And that’s not an excuse, I’m not trying to make it one. I just want you to understand where my head’s been at, okay?”
When I nod, he continues. “I lived my life like I had unlimited time left. I always figured it was fine to delay the vacations your mom wanted to take, to keep doing what I’d been doing with the business, because I knew in my heart it was right.
I believed things would settle down eventually, and then I could make changes I knew I needed to make. ”
“It didn’t work like that.”
“I don’t think it works like that for anyone, but yeah, it damn sure didn’t for me.
” He shakes his head ruefully and taps his chest again.
“Five stents were not part of the game plan. And that meant it fell to you to fix my mistakes. And let me tell you, there’s nothing more humbling than watching your kid, the man you taught to be take-charge and responsible, struggling with the weight of a burden you gave him. ”
“But if you know you messed up, why do you keep criticizing how I’m doing things?” The question comes out gentler than I expected. “I’m trying to take care of the business like you taught me—”
“Criticize?” He looks honestly confused. “Beckett, I’ve only been trying to help you. I’m worried about you. You’re killing yourself, just like I did. Making the same mistakes I made, just shooting yourself in the opposite foot, so to speak.”
I frown. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He holds up a hand like he can tell I’m getting defensive. “You’ve decided the problems with Axford are yours alone to solve. You don’t want to burden anyone else or ask for help from your family. And the harder it gets, the lonelier you feel.”
I close my mouth because… fuck. He’s not wrong.
Dad’s lips twitch. “I didn’t do everything right, Beck.
But I did learn some things over the years.
And I know what stubborn pride looks like.
Now that I’m not the guy running the office, working the schedules, writing out the insurance checks every month…
I see other things a little more clearly too.
For one, I see the toll it’s taking on you. ”
“It’s manageable—”
“Beckett,” he chides.
“Okay, it’s hard sometimes. But it was hard for you too. That’s just… how it goes.”
“But it isn’t, son. It’s not supposed to be.
And if that’s what you learned from me, then I fucked up even bigger than I thought.
Of course there’ll be long days and lean seasons, but that’s when you need to rely on your family, on your crew, on your community.
And if running the business is coming between you and your family, between you and having a support system?
Then shut it down, Beck. Simple as that. Shut. It. Down.”
I stare at him. I literally never dreamed he’d say such a thing.
“I won’t be the guy who lets Axford Lumber fail four generations in,” I argue. “Besides, I love the company. The crew. The land. Protecting the forest and sustaining it for the future is all I’ve ever wanted to do. You taught me that.”
Dad nods. “And I felt the same. Which meant I needed to be the one to keep it going. It was my company, right? And all that single-minded focus cost me was my health and, to some extent, my relationship with you.” His mouth twists, and he looks pained. “Some things aren’t worth the sacrifice.”
Jesus. My nose tingles, and I have to look down at my coffee. All this time, I’ve been so focused on fixing his mistakes that I never stopped to consider how he felt about making them.
“When’s the last time you went to the Shed just to have a drink with friends?” he demands. “When’s the last time you let the town support you instead of holding everyone at arm’s length?”
“Actually,” I say slowly. “Last night. I was at the Brine and Dandy.” I fill him in on the events of the night… at least the part that happened at the bar.
Dad snorts. “Well, if that’s what comes of you going out for Big Dill, then I guess it’s worth it. So… you and Griffin are getting along, huh?”
The caginess in his voice makes me groan. “Please don’t. There are enough matchmakers in this town.”
He laughs out loud. “I’ll stick to my crossword puzzles,” he promises. “But I am curious what changed this kid’s mind about the land access.”
“Griffin’s not a kid,” I say firmly. “He’s a good man, and he was trying to do the right thing. To look out for his property and not make rash decisions. He’s been going through a stressful time too.”
Dad’s eyebrows rise slightly. “That so?”
“Yeah, and…” I hesitate, then figure what the hell. “He’s leaving Winsome soon. He’s already got one job offer back in New York. He’ll be back in the city before long.”
And I’ll still be here.
There will be no early morning coffees with laughter. No stupid arguments about Extreme Wilderness Adventure. No seeing his chin tip up when he gets pissy… and then needing to kiss him until he forgets what he was pissed about.
Which is why I’m not letting myself even think about wanting those things.
Dad studies my face. “Well, New York’s not so far. Wouldn’t hurt to have a friend in the city, would it?”
The way he says “friend” makes it clear he doesn’t think that’s all Griffin would be.
But I don’t know what else he could be. The city’s full of hot guys, and Griffin’s not going to want to keep an occasional fuck buddy around as a souvenir of his time in Winsome.
Ada sells knickknacks that would fit the bill a lot better.
Things he could stuff in a drawer when he’s done with them.
I force a smile. “We’ll see. Anyway, since we’re admitting shit, I… I should’ve approached the whole thing with him differently from the beginning. I was… focused on the bottom line and not building a relationship with him as a person. I get what you’re saying about needing to balance the two.”
Dad looks surprised.
I scratch my beard. “Funnily enough, though, it’s only because Griffin and I were competing for Big Dill that I got to know him.” My eyes snap to his. “Do not tell Mom that.”
He laughs—the loud, booming laughter I remember from childhood and haven’t heard much lately. The kind that makes me want to laugh too.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he says. “But I do wonder if maybe we should thank him as a family. Have him to dinner sometime.”
The very idea is like a gut punch because I can fucking see it. Griffin at our dinner table, charming my mother, getting into heated debates with Eliza about god knows what, probably teaming up with Ames to tease Robbie. He’d fit perfectly, I know he would.
And he’d weave himself deeper into my life just as he’s about to leave it.
“Oh, Jesus, don’t do that,” I tell my dad, hoping my voice sounds light. “Too many Axfords at once would be a punishment, not a reward. Just… let it be.”
That’s what I should do too. Take the out Griffin gave me this morning, remember how complicated things are, and stop thinking about him all the damn time.
Dad just gives me that knowing look that says he’s filing this information away for later.
His phone chirps in his pocket, and when he looks at it, his face splits in a grin. “Would you look at that? Your mother says Ames just abandoned her mid-garland hanging. Can’t think why!”
I huff out a laugh. “So she needs you?”
“Well, she doesn’t say that, exactly.” He grins.
“But after nearly forty years of marriage, I know better than to wait for her to say she needs me. When you love someone, you want to make their life better. Easier, anyway.” He stands.
“Speaking of which, if you want, I can give you a hand at the office one of these days. Just to talk things through and be a listening ear. Nothing that’ll stress my heart…
or your mother. And nothing that’ll stress you out either. You let me know.”
“Yeah,” I say, thinking of how good he is at fixing crew schedules. “That’d be… that’d be good. I’ll do that. I’ll text you next week.”
“See you at dinner, kiddo.” Dad pats my shoulder as he leaves, and I exhale slowly. It feels like I’ve been holding my breath for years.
But the peaceful feeling doesn’t last long. When I get back to my truck, my thoughts drift right back to Griffin.
I force myself not to drive by his place on the way to the office, though I really want to check on him after the way he bolted this morning. Instead, I throw myself into paperwork for the rest of the afternoon, then head home to shower and change for dinner before enjoying family dinner.
But when I pull up at my parents’ house later, I see a familiar car with New York plates in the driveway and realize that I made a critical error.
My dad might be capable of letting things be, but I don’t think Vivian Axford understands the concept, especially not when she thinks her children’s happiness is at stake.
Sure enough, when I walk into the kitchen, there’s an extra plate setting squeezed in at the table. And when my mother turns from some flowers she’s been arranging on the counter to greet me, she wraps her arm around the shoulders of the man I haven’t been able to stop thinking about.
“Beckett, honey! Look who’s here.”
Oh, I’m looking alright. Griffin’s wearing a gray V-necked sweater and dark jeans that fit him like a glove.
His golden hair’s been pomaded within an inch of its life with whatever he uses that makes it smell like citrus.
His pale skin is pink with embarrassment.
His hazel eyes can’t quite meet mine, but he lifts his chin—of course he does—defiantly.
Just seeing that gorgeous face has happiness searing through me like a flash fire. And I realize this is exactly what I was afraid of.
I don’t just want Griffin in my bed. I want him in my life. Full stop.
Which means I’m officially fucked.