Chapter 32
Thirty-Two
We’re rounding the corner out of the psychiatry department, my mind still half-stuck on dosage adjustments, when I walk straight into a wall of muscle.
Oof.
Two big hands clamp onto my upper arms before my face can meet the floor.
“Careful—”
That voice.
Those hands.
I look up.
My heart does a frantic thud against my ribs. Beckett is in his blues with a stethoscope slung around his neck, looking entirely too professional for a man who knows what I sound like at two in the morning.
My eyes widen. “Hi.”
He lets go of my arms, and a knowing smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Madison.”
“What… what are you doing here?” I stammer and immediately regret it.
What kind of stupid question is that?
His brows furrow in confusion, but a glimmer of teasing plays in his dark eyes.
“I work here,” he says slowly. “Doctor? Remember? Big building, lots of sick people.”
I let out a forced, high-pitched laugh that sounds nothing like me. “Right. Of course. Hospital. You. Doctoring.”
God, what is wrong with me? I’m a professional communicator. I negotiate with sharks for a living, yet I’m standing here sounding like I’m learning a new language.
His mouth twitches. “Are you having a stroke?”
My mother elbows me hard in the ribs.
“Oh my God, no. I’m fine. I just didn’t expect someone to run into me.”
“You ran into me.”
“You’re very wide.”
His eyebrow lifts.
I straighten my blazer, trying to find my spine.
Part of the panic is the location. He’s seen us leave this department, and I’m not ready to unpack that box with him yet.
With Beckett, I get to be the girl with the loud music and the sharp tongue.
I get to be fun. I don’t have to be the person with the heavy shoulders.
My mother steps forward before I can dig myself in deeper.
“I’m Donna, Madison’s mother,” she says, her eyes raking over him with terrifying efficiency. “Since my daughter appears to have forgotten how to use her words, why don’t you tell me who you are?”
Beckett’s smirk turns smug as he glances at my flaming cheeks. “Lovely to meet you, Donna. I’m Beckett, Madison’s neighbor.”
“Oh.” Mom’s voice trails off. “Upstairs?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
Yes, Ma’am? Really?
“Mom, we need to go,” I interject, practically shoving her down the corridor. “Beckett is very busy. Bye, Beckett!”
My mother pulls me back.
“You thud,” she says.
Jesus Christ.
“I do,” he admits.
My mother smiles at him. “You’re a very handsome thudder.”
What is happening?
I want to dissolve into the floor.
“Mom!” I hiss.
Beckett glances at me. He’s enjoying this.
Bastard.
“Mom,” I repeat.
She ignores me completely. “How long have you been upstairs?”
“About three months.”
“And how long have you two been arguing?”
Beckett looks at me again. “Two months.”
“It’s not arguing,” I snap. “It’s a mature disagreement.”
He nods solemnly. “She threatened me once.”
“I did not. And really? You’re telling my mother on me?”
My mother bursts out laughing.
“Oh, I like him,” she says.
Of course she does.
“We really need to go,” I say, grabbing her elbow. “Beckett has real traumas. Not whatever this is.”
He folds his arms. “I can spare another minute.”
I glare at him.
My mother is delighted. “So tell me, Doctor Upstairs, are you single?”
I choke.
Beckett does not.
I spin toward him. “You do not have to answer that.”
Before he has a chance to respond to her interrogation, she asks, “Do you normally catch women in hallways for fun, or is my daughter special?”
He looks straight at me when he answers. “Oh, no, this one is special.”
I feel heat crawl up my neck.
“For God’s sake,” I mutter. “That’s enough. It was good to see you, neighbor. Mother, move your feet.”
Thankfully, my mother finally walks.
“Bye,” he says, just before he looks at me as if to say, What the fuck is wrong with you? “Nice to meet you, Donna.”
“You too, Beckett.”
I don’t say another word. I grab Mom’s arm and practically drag her toward the double doors. I can feel Beckett’s eyes on my back the entire way.
“Don’t even start,” I warn as we step outside.
“Lives upstairs, huh?”
“Yep,” I say, walking faster.
“Is his treadmill the only thing he’s pounding?”
“Mother!” I spin on her, horrified.
“Don’t play the fool with me, Madison Callahan,” she says, unfazed. “I know your tells better than my own. You have that look. The one where you pretend you aren’t bothered, but your heart’s trying to beat its way out of your chest.”
She links her arm through mine.
“You deserve to be happy, baby,” she says quietly.
“Mom, that’s not what this is.”
“No?”
“No. It’s just… a noisy neighbor.”
“It’s not what it is because you won’t let it be anything else,” she counters.
I look away, focusing on anything but her words.
“You’re all soft under that hard exterior. You spend so much time being everyone else’s shield that you’ve forgotten how to let someone in.” She squeezes my arm. “Maybe let him in. Even if it’s just through a crack in the door.”