Chapter 12
12
B eckett: Good luck with your meeting today.
Sarah stared at the text, wishing she felt more reassured. But the vibrations of the subway car through the hard plastic seat only served to highlight the vaguely queasy sensation in her stomach. The one she’d had since boarding the train to come back to New York. She’d blamed it on poor sleep. On being heartsick and missing Beckett already. On the feeling of total claustrophobia she’d had from the moment she’d stepped back onto city streets, with their wall-to-wall people. She’d thought of everything her sister had said well into the wee hours, and she still hadn’t made up her mind. It didn’t seem fair to even mention it to Beckett until she had.
Pocketing her phone without answering, she struggled to get herself into the right headspace for this meeting. The whole reason she’d taken time off this summer had been to finish her thesis. Dr. Osborne would be expecting progress. She had so little of that to show for the past weeks, and she didn’t have a good reason why. Nothing had occurred to her by the time the train came to a stop at her destination.
Sarah rose with several other passengers, weaving her way around all the bodies, getting jostled on her way to the platform door. Her chest went tight at the sense of restriction, and she hurried up the stairs to the relative relief of the surface. The summer heat was stifling, bouncing off all the concrete and asphalt to create an oven effect. The noise-canceling earbuds piping Prokofiev into her ears weren’t enough to overcome the cacophony of traffic and construction, and the stench of exhaust did nothing to relieve the constriction in her lungs. She did her best to block everything out as she hurried the rest of the way to the building that housed her advisor’s office and lab.
At the door to Dr. Osborne’s office, she paused to try and center herself. But the door opened before she could do more than take a breath.
A trim Black woman in her habitual uniform of neat slacks and tailored Oxford cloth shirt, Debra Osborne looked up, her brown eyes magnified by the tortoise shell glasses she wore. “Sarah! Excellent. Come on in. These copies can wait.” She backed up and retreated to her desk.
Helpless to do anything else, Sarah followed.
Her butt had barely hit the visitor’s chair before Dr. Osborne started in.
“I know you’ve taken the summer to work on your thesis. How’s that going?”
Though she’d anticipated the question, her cheeks flushed hot with frustration and shame. She wasn’t accustomed to failure. “Not great. I’m still struggling with writer’s block. I’ve made some progress, but not as much as I’d like.” She paused and admitted the truth. “I’m not entirely sure I’m going to be ready to defend in August.”
Dr. Osborne merely blinked, unperturbed. “That happens sometimes. But you’ll get it done whenever you get it done. Classes start in the fall. You’ll get back into the swing of things. And actually, that’s one of the things that I really wanted to talk to you about. You’re one of the best and brightest graduate students in this department. The funding for that NIH grant came in, and I want you on my team from the ground up.”
Sarah blinked, struggling to pull herself out of the tailspin she’d entered into prematurely. It was hugely flattering to be asked to participate in this project. The research experience alone would look amazing on her vitae. Hell, all the research experience she’d gained working with this woman had been incredible from both a professional and academic standpoint. She ought to be preening at this kind of praise and opportunity. This was exactly what she’d been working for in this program.
And yet… she couldn’t muster any enthusiasm at all for the project.
Her advisor was still talking. “—the project is hitting the ground running basically immediately, so if you want to do this, you’d need to start ASAP. I know you were planning on finishing your thesis, but you said yourself that’s not going well. I need you back in the lab to start practically yesterday, so we can get things rolling.”
Instead of any sense of excitement or rightness, Sarah felt a cage door clanging shut.
She thought of Beckett. Of everything she’d been reconsidering the past two weeks about her life and what came next. If she said yes to this, the next several years of her life would be consumed with finishing the damned thesis that she didn’t want to look at anymore, on top of spearheading her own research for an even longer dissertation. It would mean staying trapped in this city, in these halls, for who knew how long. And she just… couldn’t see herself doing that anymore.
“It’s a huge honor that you’d consider me, and I really appreciate the opportunity, but I’m afraid I have to decline.” As soon as the words came out of her mouth, her inner voice began shrieking. What are you doing? You’ve worked for years for this! Don’t throw it away!
Dr. Osborne stared, clearly taken aback by her answer. Her gaze focused in fully for the first time. “Are you okay? I mean, is everything okay with you, your family?”
“No.” That was the God’s honest truth. “I think I need to quit the program.”
Concern filled those familiar eyes. “Sarah, if you need to take a leave of absence to deal with whatever this is, we can hold your position in the department. Defer it for a semester or a year.”
She could take this. It was what Taryn had suggested. Sort of. A full semester or year off would give her the chance to figure out what she wanted. With a serious break she’d gain clarity. It was really the best option. She opened her mouth to say so.
“I appreciate that. Truly. But I don’t think this is the right path for me.”
Wait. What?
Her advisor leaned forward. “Sarah, you are one of our most gifted students.”
“You’re right. I’m very good at school. I’ve essentially made a career of it. But I can’t be a professional student forever. I don’t want to teach. I really don’t want to do research. I need to do something else with my life.”
Admitting it out loud loosened the vise around her chest. Finally.
The older woman’s jaw was hanging open as she clearly struggled to wrap her brain around this sudden shift. “What would you do instead?”
“I have no idea.” Sarah shoved down her instinctive panic at that. “But this is not going to make me happy. Someone taught me recently that there is more to life than achievement. I sincerely appreciate everything you’ve done for me, and I’m sorry I won’t be able to join you on this project going forward.”
She shoved up from her chair and walked out. Her steps quickened on the way to the stairs. By the time she got to the front doors of the building, she burst through as if the hounds of hell were on her heels. She ran full-tilt for several blocks, all the way to the subway station that would get her back to her apartment.
If she was going to blow up the rest of her perfectly ordered life, she had some packing to do.
Beckett officially hated people.
Why the hell had he thought this job was a good idea? Singles Week had been a nightmare, with the air so thick with lust he could practically taste it. Camp was covered in singles out to find a temporary hookup and even a smaller handful hoping to find a real connection. The staff had gotten their Banging Bingo winner—Charlie—by Tuesday. Beckett himself had seen more than one bare ass as he’d inadvertently stumbled upon couples in various compromising positions. He’d taken to making all sorts of noise while walking, just to announce his presence lest he stumble upon any more scenes that required brain bleach.
He wanted to go be a hermit on a mountain. Preferably with Sarah. Except she’d gone incommunicado since she’d gotten back to New York, other than one text to say she’d made it back safely, and that she missed him already.
She had a hell of a way of showing it.
Unable to buckle down his shit mood enough to deal with guests, he managed to hand off his assignments for the next couple of hours. Hiking or climbing would’ve been preferable to being stuck in his own head, but he couldn’t leave campus at this point, so he retreated to the equipment shed. If Michael or Heather came to find him, he’d tell them he was triple checking ropes or something. They’d all already been triple checked, but it was something to do with his hands.
He realized his own miscalculation as he shut himself inside. His gaze unerringly went to the table, and he couldn’t help but imagine Sarah there, eyes full of heat. This wasn’t going to improve his mood, but at least it was away from prying eyes. Pulling down several coils of rope, he tossed them onto the table and began the process of examining the sheaths all over again.
Why the hell hadn’t Sarah responded to his texts or answered his calls? He was 99% sure she was at least physically okay. On more than one occasion, he’d seen the little bubble with three dots pop up, indicating she was composing a response. But she’d sent nothing. Had she gotten back to the city and decided that was the life she wanted after all? Was she just going to quietly ghost him? If the relationship withered that easily, she obviously wasn’t the right woman for him. But he just couldn’t accept that.
Maybe the meeting with her thesis advisor hadn’t gone well and she was quietly falling apart by herself. That seemed like something she’d do. Freak out on her own rather than pull anyone else in for help or comfort.
Sarah had left here with the intention of helping her sister figure out her next moves. That meant she’d seen or talked to her. Probably. Maybe he should try to get in touch with Taryn. Not that he had her contact info, but it would’ve been in her original hire paperwork. Surely, Michael or Heather would give it to him. She’d at least know for sure whether Sarah was okay. Right?
Beckett hated being in the dark. Hated not knowing what else to do. He needed to talk to her. Maybe he needed to do it in person. Get to the city to confront her directly about what the hell was going on. Figure out what went wrong and how to fix it. If it could be fixed. When was his next day off?
Not soon enough. Not even with the capture the flag boon his team had won. Which left him up shit creek without a paddle.
The door to the equipment shed opened. Bracing himself to face-off with some random couple looking for a place to hook up, he turned. He couldn’t immediately make out more than a person-shape in the doorway. Their features were obscured by the flare of light behind them.
“If you’re looking for a place to make out, this is not it.”
“Oh, I don’t know. I have some pretty fond memories of doing exactly that right over there on that table.”
Beckett froze as the door shut, closing him in with Sarah. She wore khaki shorts that bared most of the mile-long length of her tan legs, and a Camp Firefly Falls T-shirt. Her blonde hair was pulled half up, away from her face.
“Hey.”
“What? How?” He sputtered. Five whole days she’d said nothing, and now she was here?
Her lips curved in a hesitant smile. “I missed you.”
She was here . “God, I missed you, too.”
Beckett’s feet unglued from the floor and he closed the distance between them to pull her into his arms. Her mouth unerringly found his and for the first time in days, he could finally breathe. Wrapping her tight in his arms, he soaked in her scent. “Are you up for the weekend? I didn’t know you were coming.”
Sarah pulled back to look into his eyes, expression suddenly serious.
Fuck. Was she about to break up with him? Had she come all the way up here to do that face-to-face.
“No, actually.” She took a deep breath. “I quit my graduate program.
Honest to God shock rippled through him. “Seriously?”
Her laugh was wry. “Yeah. I’ve hyperventilated half a dozen times since walking out of my advisor’s office. But it’s the right choice.” Her fingers squeezed his. “Seeing you here now, I know it’s the right choice.”
“Taryn actually convinced the Tullys to hire me for the summer. So I’m taking her job—the job you trained me for—while I figure out what comes next. Because I choose you, I choose us.”
“Sarah.” He pressed his brow to hers. “You won’t regret it.”
“I certainly won’t regret you. As to the rest… well, it’s scary as hell. But for once, I’m taking a page out of my sister’s book. I have no idea how she lives not knowing the next eighty-two steps for what comes next, but I’m trying to learn to be okay with it.”
This was everything he hadn’t dared to hope for. She’d quit the graduate program that was slowly killing her soul. She’d chosen him. Come back to him. And they’d have the summer to figure out what came next.
Beckett skimmed a hand over her cheek. “It’ll all work out okay. It has to.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because I love you. Nothing else matters more than that.”
Stunned pleasure flickered over her features, before those big Bambi eyes went shimmery with unshed tears. “I love you, too. Being with you makes the whole not knowing what comes next less scary.”
Without breaking eye contact, he reached out and flipped the lock on the door. “I may not know the next eighty-two steps of what comes next, but I know what comes next right now.”
With a little laugh, she looped her arms around his shoulders. “And what’s that?”
Backing her toward the table where he’d first tasted her mouth, Beckett set about proving that the answer was unequivocally her.