Chapter 37
Thirty-Seven
Something is wrong. Beck was sleepy when I left her in bed earlier this morning, but she seemed okay. What changed while I was away? I was barely gone an hour, cutting my run short so I could get back to her. I was hoping she would join me in the shower, to be honest.
I was grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge when my grandfather came in to start breakfast.
When he started talking about Lily, I couldn’t escape quickly enough. I want to keep moving forward, not back. He adores Beck—he told me so—and I know he’s only trying to make sure my head is in the right place.
I’m glad I didn’t tell him about my panic attack when Beck was sick with a cold.
It passed quickly, but it’s something I will have to continue working through.
I’ve avoided commitment for almost two decades, and he knows why.
But that doesn’t mean I’m stuck there anymore.
I appreciate his concern—really, I do—but I’m fine. More than that, I’m happy.
I can’t believe I called her Lily. What the hell was that about? I feel like such an asshole. Her feelings must be hurt. I’ll need to apologize again when she wakes up.
I glance over to where she has been curled up, sleeping against the passenger-side door for the past hour. She closed her eyes before we turned onto the main road, and she’s been asleep ever since. Maybe she really isn’t feeling well.
Reaching over the console, I run my hand up and down her leg. “Beck,” I call softly. “We are almost home. Do you want to stop at Maggie’s or go right to the yellow house?”
Yawning, she slowly opens her eyes, sits up, and stretches her arms above her head.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.” She yawns again, covering her mouth.
“How are you feeling?” I ask, running the back of my hand over her cheek. She doesn’t feel warm, but her complexion is pale.
“I’m okay. Tired,” she says, slipping her hands inside her sleeves and wrapping her arms around her body.
Adjusting the thermostat, I ask, “Did you want to stop at Maggie’s? You haven’t eaten anything today. You fell asleep before you had your toast.”
“I’m sorry we missed breakfast with William.” Her lips turn down. “We could have stayed a while longer,” she mumbles.
“No need to apologize.” I slip my hand under her braid, cupping the back of her neck, and gently squeeze. “We will visit him again. Remember, we have a cooking lesson.”
“Okay.” She nods, then asks, “Do you mind stopping by the trailer? I have a client coming in for a consult tomorrow, and I have a collection of sketches in one of my books that I would like her to see,” she says as she watches the trees rush by.
“Do you want to grab them all while we are here? You wouldn’t be able to fit them in Nana Cathy’s car.”
“True. That would be great. Thank you.”
“Afterwards, we can stop and get you some food. I bet there are cupcakes.”
“I could eat a cupcake,” she agrees, “and I’m sure you want more coffee.” She turns to me and lifts the corner of her mouth.
Holding up the extra-large insulated cup Granddad sent me home with, I say, “Don’t worry about me. I’ve been adequately caffeinated.”
When she says nothing, I ask, “Are you sure you’re okay? You can talk to me.”
“I know,” she whispers, running the tips of her fingers back and forth over her lips.
Slowing, I signal and turn up Maggie’s long driveway. Pulling up in front of the trailer, I barely have the truck in park before she jumps out without a word. I walk around the back, open the liftgate, and move our overnight bags out of the way so we can load her boxes as she enters the trailer.
Her bloodcurdling scream sends me sprinting up the stairs, the door slamming against the outside wall as I fling it open. My heart hammers in my chest, dread twisting tight as I brace myself for what I might find inside.
Beck has collapsed in the middle of the floor, surrounded by what’s left of her sketchbooks, journals, and photos. Lowering myself to sit beside her, I pull her onto my lap and rock her as she sobs.
Every piece of paper that she has poured her heart and soul into has been dumped on the floor and kicked around.
Pages are torn, bindings split open, photos ripped into jagged pieces.
Her sketches are scattered everywhere. Some are in shreds, while others are crumpled into balls.
The red velvet drapes that divided the room have been yanked down and lie in a heap. The devastation surrounds us.
“It’s all gone. Everything,” she cries, clenching my sweater in her fists. “My thoughts. Sketches. Dreams. He’s taken it all from me.” I rub her back in circles as her tears soak through my shirt.
“Why does he hate me so much? I tried so hard to make it work between us. I swear I did. Nothing was ever good enough. I’m never good enough.”
“Oh, Baby, you are good enough.” I pull her closer and stroke the back of her head. “He’s punishing you because he assumed you would always forgive him and give him another chance. He thought you would never truly walk away, and he was wrong. It’s not because you aren’t good enough.”
“I’m so tired. I can’t keep doing this,” she whimpers into my chest.
“I know. What can I do? How can I help?” I’m trying to remain calm for her, but I’m feeling murderous. How dare that motherfucker come into her space and destroy everything important to her?
“I don’t know. It’s all gone. Garbage. I’m so stupid. I should never have left it behind, but I thought it was safe here. I didn’t even lock the door. He could just walk right in.”
“You’re not stupid. There is no way you could have predicted this would happen.”
She buries her face in my shirt and continues to cry. Words are not enough right now.
Fishing my phone out of my pocket, I pull up my text thread with Carson.
I need help
Carson
What? Not even a hello?
I’m serious
I have a situation at the trailer
Carson
What’s going on?
Braden has been here, and ransacked the place.
Carson
Oh shit. Is Beck okay?
No
Carson
Getting in the truck now. Be there in five
Tucking my phone away, I say, “Come on. Let’s go outside.”
Sitting back, she says, “I need to clean up this mess. I can’t leave it like this.” Her lip trembles as she takes in the small space.
“We will. Let’s go outside for a minute to clear our heads and make a plan.” I place a gentle kiss on her forehead.
Reluctantly, she climbs off my lap, and we stand. Bending, she picks up and smooths out a crumpled photo of herself sitting on the deck at Hannah’s cabin, surrounded by all her girlfriends. She lets it slip through her fingers, and it floats to the floor.
“Come on.” I reach for her hand. She hiccups and wipes her red, swollen eyes with the back of her arm before taking mine and follows me outside.
“Do you want to sit in the truck and keep warm while we wait?”
Her forehead crinkles. “Wait for what?”
“Reinforcements.”
Biting her lower lip, she shakes her head. “No, I’m okay.” I pull my beanie out of my coat pocket and pull it over her head, tucking the loose strands behind her ears. If she is catching a cold, at least I can try to keep her warm.
Moments later, Carson arrives, but he’s not alone. Logan and Hannah are right behind him in her Jeep, followed by Riot, Claire, and Megan.
“What’s going on?” Still chewing her bottom lip, she glances at me as everyone gets out of their vehicles.
“I told Carson you needed help. He must have called in the cavalry.”
“You didn’t have to do that. I can clean it up by myself.” Her chin quivers as she dips her head.
I wrap my arm around her shoulder and whisper in her ear, “Of course you can, but you don’t have to.”
Hannah reaches Beck first. I reluctantly release her so she can pull her into her arms. Claire is close behind. Meg gives me a soft smile as she follows them to the picnic table so they can talk to her privately.
“What are we dealing with?” Riot asks, his voice gruff, as he comes to stand across from me.
Carson and Logan brush past and peer inside the trailer door.
“He trashed everything she had left behind.” My jaw aches from clenching it.
“Fuck.” He runs his tongue over his teeth and squeezes his hands into fists.
“Jesus Christ,” Logan mutters, shutting the door and shaking his head. I watch him stride to the table to check on Beck.
“Thanks for calling everyone and coming over,” I say when Carson joins us.
“No problem. I called Mason as well. He will be here shortly.”
“What did you tell him?” I ask.
“Nothing more than what you told me, then I asked him to come.”
“Good,” I say, glancing over to where Beck is sitting surrounded by her friends. She’s stopped crying, but anguish mars her face.
“How is she?” Riot asks, his voice rough with concern.
“She’s a wreck,” I say quietly. “She said she wasn’t feeling great even before we got here. I want to get her back to her place, so she has space to process this. But she doesn’t want to leave. She wants to clean up.”
Riot exhales, jaw tightening. “We’ll do it for her.”
Shaking his head in disbelief, Carson huffs out a quick breath. “We’ll save everything we can.”
“Let’s see what Mason has to say first.” I’ve given up hope Mason can place any charges. We know Braden did it, but with no physical evidence or witnesses, what can be done—legally?
“Once he gives us the go-ahead, I can haul the trailer over to the farm and put it behind closed gates,” Carson suggests, shoving his hands in his coat pockets as Logan joins us.
“That’s a good idea,” I agree. “I’ll have to let Maggie know too. Braden would know that she starts early at the bakery, so it would be easy for him to slip in and out without detection.”
“We should ask Brian,” Carson mutters, rolling his eyes. “He seems to know everything that’s happening in this town.”
“What about the yellow house?” Riot asks, looking between us. “Has he been nosing around there at all?”
“She would know if he had. I installed a security system and cameras before she moved in,” Logan reminds us.
“Good.” Riot tips his chin to where everyone has crowded around Beck. “Do you want the girls to take her home?”