Chapter 49
VINNY
I wake up early the next day, hoping I’ll have a message from Becks waiting for me. When I see my phone has no notifications, I sigh and throw myself into a hot shower.
After Beckham stormed out of Kaiden’s last night, we decided on three guys who fit the role as Hallows Boys perfectly, then I went home, hoping to find Beckham. Unfortunately, he didn’t show up, so I texted and called him until midnight, but then fell asleep waiting for a response.
It isn’t like him to shut me out, but maybe this whole next generation thing is really getting to him. As I shower, I make the decision to walk over to his house.
It’s New Year’s Eve, anyway, and we need to figure out what we’re doing tonight. I’m hoping we’re driving into the closest city to see some fireworks, maybe grab a hotel and spend the night giving Sage fireworks between her legs.
I’m hard and full of tension when I get out of the shower, and as I get dressed, I hope maybe Sage is done with breakfast with her grandmother earlier than she said after all.
The walk to Beckham’s childhood home is short, but my wet hair makes me colder in the winter chill. His dad’s car isn’t in the driveway, so I walk into the house without knocking, heading straight for Beckham’s room.
He’s still asleep, curled under his blankets, so I kick off my shoes and climb under them with him to wake him up.
Kissing his jaw, I smell the faint scent of gasoline, but when he wakes up and runs his hands down my back, every thought in my mind disappears.
He moans as I kiss him. “Good morning.”
“Morning, B,” I breathe, sucking his neck. “I’ve been worried about you.”
He grinds his pelvis against me. “Oh? Why’s that?”
“You didn’t answer your phone all night, not to mention the crazy anti-Hallows Boys rampage you went on at Kai’s.” I groan, but at my words, he freezes.
“Crazy?” he questions. “That’s what you think?”
He sits up, and I follow him. “No, I mean— Yeah, you were acting kinda crazy, B, but I get it. You’ve been through a lot. We just need to talk about this.”
“I’m not crazy for wanting this sick tradition to end,” he snaps, running his hand through his hair.
“If it wasn’t for this sick tradition, we wouldn’t be together, and we wouldn’t have Sage. Is that something you want to imagine? Because I don’t.”
“Of course not, V.” He sighs, his blue eyes tired.
I feel angry, like he’s ashamed of what we are, who we are, and everything we’ve done together. “What the fuck, Beckham? You would rather have not found us?”
“I didn’t say that Vinny!” he shouts. “I’m just saying it needs to fucking end.”
“Before now, being a Hallows Boy was a huge part of our personalities. It basically was our personalities.” My eyebrows pull down, confusion and anger inside of me burning so hot that I want to yell.
He shakes his head, shuffling closer to me and wrapping his arms around my center, pulling my head against his shoulder. “Stop getting mad at me, Vinny. I love you, I’m sorry.”
I take a deep breath in. “Why do you smell like gasoline?”
Beckham leans away from me. “What? I don’t.”
“You do.” I eye him, and his face goes white as he swings his legs over the side of the bed and stands up.
“I’m going to take a shower. Do you want to come?”
“Becks.” I stand up, following him, something gnawing at my gut with how he’s acting. “What’s going on?”
He turns to look at me as I approach him in the doorway, and his gaze has hardened. “I burned it down.”
My head rears back, having no clue what he’s talking about. “What?”
“All of it,” he says, his fingers pulling at his curly hair. “The crypts. I burned them down. The Games are over.”
“What?!” I gape, unable to find any other words to say right now. My mouth opens and closes twice before I can take a breath. I swear my heart stops beating. “Becks, what?”
The doorbell rings then, making me jump. My skin has turned prickly with goosebumps, and I follow Beckham as he goes to answer the door.
When he pulls it open, there are two police officers standing on the porch, hands on their belts. The older of the two speaks. “Beckham Bentley?”
My heart drops, my stomach turning to liquid, blood going cold with panic.
“Yeah?” Becks says, holding on to the door like he needs it for balance.
“We got an anonymous tip that you had something to do with the fire at the Blackmore Cemetery last night. Do you know anything about that?” the officer asks, and my head spins.
I do my best to walk to Beckham’s side, even as my legs wobble, and he looks at me for a brief second before he looks back at the cop.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says, and when the cops both move their gazes to my face, I know they can read his lies on my skin.
The officer pulls a piece of paper from his pants pocket, unfolding it and holding it out for us to see. He points to it with one finger. “Can you explain this image, then?”
Pulling my top lip into my mouth and under my teeth, I bite down painfully, studying the photo of Beckham in the cemetery, a gas can in either hand.
Moisture fills my eyes, and I grab onto the back of Beckham’s T-shirt like it’ll somehow save him.
When Beckham doesn’t say anything, the police officer pulls his handcuffs from the side of his belt. “You’ll need to turn around for me, son. Put your hands behind your back.”
Beckham chokes on his words, turning to look at me with pain shining in his eyes. “Vinny.”
“What are the charges?” I ask, desperate to delay the inevitable. “No one’s even alive to press charges. All the Blackmores are dead!”
The officer looks at Becks, answering my question. “They found a body in the crypt. You’re under arrest for murder.”
“What!?” Beckham screams, shaking his head. “No, no, there’s no way. There was no one there!”
“Turn around,” the officer says, sadness in his eyes. “Don’t make this harder on yourself than it needs to be.”
Beckham turns around, putting his hands behind his back, then he twists his head so he can look at me, tears streaming down his face. “Vinny, call my dad.”
I’m shaking violently, nausea twisting in my gut, and I reach over to hold Beckham’s face between my hands as I demand answers from the cops.
“Who was it? Who was inside the crypt?! You can’t just take him without telling us!” I yell, desperate to keep him with me for longer.
The officer takes a breath, the handcuffs clicking into place around Beckham’s wrists, then he looks at me. “The body was identified as Sage Blackmore.”
My body suddenly numbs, and my hands drop from Beckham’s face.
Beckham goes rigid, and he shakes his head rapidly. “No, there’s no way it was Sage.” He looks at me, words shaky and distressed. “Call her right now. It wasn’t her. There’s no way.”
I push through the door, shoving one of the officers out of the way in time to puke all over the sidewalk. My shaking hands go to my knees, and I throw up until my stomach is empty, then I dry heave for a moment before I stand up straight.
“Vinny, it wasn’t her,” Becks says urgently. “Call her, she’ll answer, she was home all night.”
The officer who isn’t holding on to Beckham’s handcuffed wrists puts a hand on my shoulder. “Her body was identified by the family. I’m sorry.”
I look up, past the cops, and Beckham turns to look at me. When our eyes connect, it’s pain unlike anything I’ve felt before.
If I wasn’t so dizzy, I would launch myself at him; instead, I just lean against the house and spit at his feet.
“You killed her!” I scream, my voice hurting my sore throat. “How could you do this!?”
Beckham’s face goes sheet white, then he drops to his knees and screams at the top of his lungs, tears starting to stream down his cheeks in rivers that pull more anger from me.
I want to hurt him, kill him, climb across the space and strangle him, but before I have a chance to act on my impulsive thoughts, the police officer pulls him back up to his feet. “Let’s go, Beckham.”
“Take him!” I scream, slamming my hand against the house as Beckham’s gaze meets mine once more. “Don’t come back! I never want to fucking see you again!”