CHAPTER 23
“M allory, please let me in.” Beckett rested his head against her closed front door, willing her to at least pretend he had been knocking for five minutes. Never had he been so glad for Buckeye Falls and their low crime rate, as not even one neighbor came out to investigate his late-night visit.
From inside, he heard footfalls and a thud. Knocking again, he finally tried the knob and found it locked. Raking a hand through his hair, Beckett struggled to come up with a plan. He wouldn’t literally break her door down, but he also couldn’t stand here and listen to her—potentially—suffering.
Suddenly, he remembered the Lawson family home and their habit of keeping keys in loose bricks by the door. Feeling around the bricks of the door frame, Beckett found a loose block and pulled it free. Just as he’d hoped, a single key was nestled in the void. “I’m coming in,” he announced as he opened the door to her apartment.
He found Mallory instantly, slumped on the sofa with an arm over her face. Her dress from the night was rumpled, and he could smell the alcohol on her breath from five feet away. Fernando sat on her torso, kneading his paws into Mallory’s belly.
“Jesus, Mal. Are you okay? Talk to me.”
He closed the distance in two long strides, easing down on his knees. Beckett carefully pulled her arm from her face and swiped a rogue lock of chestnut hair off her forehead. Her eyes were closed, but her lips were moving in silent conversation. “What did you do, Mal?” Beckett stood and went to the kitchen in search of water and some ibuprofen. In a matter of hours, she was going to have the worst hangover.
With a careful hand, he helped Mallory sit up and propped pillows behind her. Fernando was not a fan of losing his spot and hissed before darting under the couch. Mallory’s head lolled forward, but he was there to steady her. “I’m not a baby,” she muttered, more to herself than Beckett. He was certain she didn’t know he was there.
“I know you’re not, sweetheart.” Beckett’s heart shuddered in his chest. He hated to see Mallory like this, especially knowing he was the reason. He cursed himself for not saying something at the diner, for letting Evan’s matchmaking get the better of him—yet again.
“I vant to sleeeeeeeeep,” Mallory droned, her mouth continuing to move after she was done speaking. Her slurred speech sounded like the Count from Sesame Street, but Beckett wasn’t about to alert her to that. He’d share that little gem for later, when everyone was sober and speaking to each other again. God, hopefully that will be sooner rather than later...
Beckett pressed two pills into her hand and held out the glass of water. “You can sleep soon, but first, I need you to drink this and take these.”
Mallory blinked awake long enough to take the glass from him. Her movements were jerky, and some of the water splashed down the front of her dress. “Oops.” She giggled as she popped the ibuprofen into her mouth and downed them in one swallow. “I’m a mmmmmeeeesssssss,” she said the last word as a long slur, thumping back onto the couch cushion. “I vant it to stop hurting,” she said, her blue gaze downcast.
Beckett squeezed her hand and sighed. This was killing him. “I know, but the headache will go away soon.”
Mallory shook her head so forcefully, her braid pulsed on her shoulders. “No, no, no,” she argued, waving her free hand through the air. When she was done making random gestures, she balled her fist and thwacked it on her chest. “I want this to stop hurting,” she corrected him. “It hurts all the time.” Her eyes fluttered closed and Beckett’s knees gave out.
Allowing gravity to take over, he crouched on the floor and cupped her face in his hands. This was going to kill him, watching Mallory suffer under another misunderstanding. “Mal, I know you won’t remember this,” Beckett said, his throat closing around his confession, his eyes burning with fresh tears. “But I love you. I’m so sorry about tonight, and I’m always going to be sorry for what happened before. I will make this right, I promise.”
Blowing raspberries with her tongue, Mallory gave a stilted laugh. “Words are cheap, mister. And besides.” She huffed and tried to situate herself better on the couch. “I want to hear them from Beckett. I’m sure you’re a nice man, but you’re not the one I want...” Her drunken admission left him stunned.
“It’s me, sweetheart. Beckett.”
Mallory rolled onto her back and covered her face with her arm again. “No, you’re not. He’s out with Juuuuuullllllliiiiaaaa. Yet again, I’m not good enough.”
It would have been less painful if the roof had caved in and crushed him right then and there. Beckett rubbed over his sternum; the aching so acute he was surprised he was still breathing. “Mallory, you’ve always been good enough.” Letting out a humorless laugh, he continued. “You’re the gold standard to every woman I’ve dated. I’m so sorry you never knew that, and as soon as you’re sober, I’m going to show you how much you mean to me.”
At first, Mallory didn’t respond. Her lifeless form sprawled on the couch, legs straight and arms at odd angles. Beckett cleared his throat, anxious to see if Mallory had indeed heard him. “You seem like a nice guy,” she muttered into a cushion. “But I’m in love with someone else.”
Shoving his glasses up his nose, Beckett frowned. He was certain he was the someone else, but badgering a half comatose Mallory was a fool’s errand. “Oh, yeah?” he asked casually.
Mallory rolled around, curling up into a little ball. “Yeah. He’s my friend, but he doesn’t see me. I’m just his friend’s sister.” She wiggled her bottom and curled more into herself; her next words nearly inaudible from her drunken cocoon. “I’m not worth the risk.”
Beckett yanked off his glasses and rubbed his temples. Despite his own sober state, his head pounded with the need to fix this situation. He couldn’t believe they were back here again, and moreover, he couldn’t believe that Mallory didn’t already know how he felt.
It was frankly embarrassing how often they’d been down this road, the path worn and familiar. What was that old adage? The definition of insanity was doing the same thing over again and expecting different results? Look up Beckett Fox in the dictionary, and there would be a full spread of his freckled face under “I”.
“His Gram,” Mallory mumbled, the mention of his grandmother shaking him back to the present. “She used to say we belonged together. Isn’t that nice?” She rolled over, tucking her knees up to her torso, her braid falling over her cheek and obscuring his view of her face.
“Oh, yeah?” he asked, knowing exactly the situation that Mallory spoke of. He rested his arm on the sofa, his fingers smoothing over Mallory’s cheek so he could see her eyes.
When they were kids, and when she was scared, Mallory loved to hide around the farm, curled up into a ball. By the time he or Evan found her, one of them would have to coax her from her cocoon. Back when they were teenagers, Mallory had come to the farm to help Gram with canning preserves. Looking back at that time, Beckett knew his grandmother missed having more family around. Every time the Lawson kids came over, she found a variety of activities to keep everyone engaged and happy.
On this day, Mallory had been dumped by a boy she met in the high school orchestra. They had only gone on a couple of dates, but Mallory seemed smitten. During the entirety of that brief courtship, Beckett found anything he could do to keep busy. The last thing he needed were more reminders that, yet again, he’d missed his opportunity with Mallory. His World of Warcraft characters were doing really well, not to mention his curve ball was looking fierce. He’d also managed to harvest a row’s worth of apples on his own before the foreman scolded him for taking his team’s job.
Evan hadn’t joined his sister that day, so Beckett was in the den with Gramps watching football highlights. He’d gone to the kitchen in search of something to drink when he’d heard hushed voices and his grandmother’s comforting tone. “Now dear,” she’d said while carefully spooning hot jam into waiting jars. “Sometimes people are brought into our lives to show us what we’re missing. They fill a gap you didn’t know you had, complementing your life, and in some cases, making it better.”
Mallory had snorted, covering her mouth and apologizing. “Sorry, Gram, but Colin was not that guy.”
His grandmother had winked and chuckled. “I know, dear, that’s why I’m telling you to wait for the man who is. Who knows, he may be closer than you think.”
Beckett had held his breath, willing his feet to move and bring him to Mallory’s side. Instead, he stood in the shadows like a weirdo and eavesdropped on their private conversation. Just as he was crippled with guilt over his covert listening, Mallory knocked the wind out of his sails.
“There is someone,” Mallory said carefully. “But he’s not interested in me at all. I might as well be invisible.”
Gram sealed a jar and handed it to Mallory. “Have you told this boy how you feel?”
Mallory sighed, her body deflating with the effort. “If he doesn’t see it now, he never will.”
Turning her head to hide her smile, Gram soldiered on. “I’m going to let you in on a little secret, Mallory. Men are not that bright.” Mallory tittered but didn’t interrupt the life lesson. “I will love Richard and Beckett until my dying breath, but those two cannot find their way out of a paper bag. Sometimes with men, you need to spell it out.”
Mallory stacked the last of the jars and wiped her hands on a tea towel. She padded to the fridge and took a pitcher of iced tea and filled two glasses. “I think if I spell it out, that will be the end of our friendship.”
Gram took her tea from Mallory and they clinked glasses. “Then it doesn’t sound like a friendship worth keeping.”
Beckett shook himself back to the present, adjusting one of the pillows on the couch to support Mallory’s neck. So much time had been wasted on not telling each other how they felt. It weighed him down, hunching his shoulders with the weight of all the what-ifs.
“We’re going to figure this out, Mal.”
Mallory let out a little snore, nestling closer to the pillows. Beckett rested his head on the edge of the couch, staying close in case she needed anything. He wasn’t going anywhere, and when the light of day hit, he would make it clear that he was done hiding from their feelings. Yes, it was a risk to dive into a relationship. He had no idea how Evan would react, but it didn’t matter. He wouldn’t put Mallory through another moment of secrets and lies. Evan would understand. Frankly, he had to.
He didn’t think their hearts could handle any more.
*
M allory woke with a crick in her neck and the walls spinning around her. Squeezing her eyes shut, she willed her brain to put the pieces together. Why was she sleeping on the couch? Why was she still in last night’s dress? And more importantly, who was the person snoring on the floor?
As she bolted upright, two cushions landed beside her with a soft thud. Mallory rubbed the sleep from her eyes and peered over her perch to find Beckett. He was passed out, his glasses crooked and lips parted in sleep. Ginger waves fell over his forehead, and she had to ball her fist to keep from reaching out.
This didn’t make any sense. Beckett had left with CeCe’s friend. Yet again, he’d chosen to please Evan and leave her alone to deal with the emotional damage. Twisting free from her couch fort, Mallory tiptoed into the bathroom. The sight that greeted her in the mirror was worse than she could have imagined. Her mascara was smudged all over her cheeks, her breath reeked of vodka and regrets. Glancing at the time on her phone, she realized it was already nine thirty.
She thanked her forethought to take the day off work, as she wouldn’t be saving any lives in this state. After quickly brushing her teeth and splashing water on her face, she emerged to find a still-sleeping Beckett.
He looked incredibly uncomfortable sprawled out like that, but she wasn’t about to wake him. If anything, she was about to pad outside and drive out of town until she ran out of gas. How ridiculous were they? Dancing around their feelings for damn near their whole lives. The time had clearly come to break the cycle, and Mallory was the one to do it. Yes, last night had hurt. Watching him walk away broke what was left of her heart, and she couldn’t keep doing this. If for no other reason than her stomach couldn’t handle the binge drinking.
Finally, Beckett stirred, wiggling around until he finally opened his eyes. “Hey,” he said through the dwindling moments of sleep.
“Hey yourself,” she replied on a sigh. Her mother, and her sisters, had mastered the Lawson Ladies’ Look years ago, and she’d recently become very astute as well. Brow knitted, she crossed her arms and pursed her lips. “What are you doing here?”
Beckett eased himself to a more vertical position, although the grimace on his face proved he might be too old to crash on random couches—or in this case, floors. “I came to return your shoes, and to check on you. We didn’t get a chance to talk before you left.”
Mallory was incredulous. “Before I left? You make it sound like I had better plans than watching my secret boyfriend leave with another woman.”
Beckett frowned. “I’m also here to clear that whole thing up. You know I’m not into Julia, right? Christ, Mal. You really think I wanted to go out with another woman?”
“How could I think otherwise when you keep repeating this pattern?” Mallory flapped her hands between them, her charm bracelet tinkling in the quiet space.
White-hot rage bubbled up inside her, and Mallory relished the heat of anger. It felt good; she felt justified in her response. Who the hell was Beckett Fox anyway to play with her emotions like this? She was done, and it was time for him to know it.
“Repeating the pattern?”
Mallory nodded, holding up her hand as she counted down the damning evidence. “Yes, a pattern. Beckett, no one has dumped me more than you. I have a list if you’re interested.” She didn’t bother waiting for an answer before she started tallying his offenses. “First, how could we forget the homecoming dance in high school?’
“That was...” But his argument was silenced by a couch cushion to the face, Mallory wasn’t playing around.
“First, high school homecoming. No matter how many years ago that was,” she added, a smirk of satisfaction curling her lips. “And then we have every summer break of college. Each and every time we started something, you would end it.” He opened his mouth to interrupt, but the look on her face silenced him. “And how could we forget Gram’s funeral? I show up to give you support, to have you lean on me while you grieve, and you leave with Evan for a night on the town with who the hell knows. If that wasn’t painful enough, we finally come to a truce, to a way to be together. And at the first test of Evan’s meddling, you’re off like a shot with another woman. I cannot keep this going, Beckett. It’s exhausting being your second choice. I must have enough pride to stop this.” A tear fell down her cheek, and Mallory angrily swiped it away. “I think I deserve better than this. It’s killing me.”
“I’ve got nothing of value to say to that argument. You make some good points, Mal, but that isn’t the whole story.”
She threw her arms wide in invitation. “Then enlighten me, Beckett. Tell me why I’m not worth the risk.”
“Don’t you get it? Don’t you see?” Beckett’s voice cracked on the question, his bottom lip quivering despite his best efforts. His pale skin was blotchy with red patches sweeping up to meet the frame of his glasses.
Mallory exhaled, striving to keep herself calm. She had an encyclopedia’s worth of facts to spew, but now wasn’t the time. Now was the time for Beckett’s truth. “What is it? What don’t I see?”
Beckett paced around her, his hands alternating between balling to fists and running through his hair. The red curls were a mess, and she yearned to reach out and smooth them back; yearned to smooth his rough edges so he didn’t carry this pain anymore. This shared pain was tearing them apart.
“You’re all I have left,” he finally said, voice low and worn with emotion. “You, Evan, hell, even the Lawson family. That’s all I’ve got now.”
“Don’t you see? You’ve already had us.”
“No.” He laughed, but there wasn’t an ounce of humor in it. “I don’t, Mal. Because either way, I’m losing someone. I’m either telling my best friend I broke the bro code two decades ago and love his sister, or I’m telling you that I can’t be with you for fear of losing my buddy. How freaking sad is that?” He threw his arms up, the air between them charged as if lightning were about to strike. “I’ve been beating myself up over this for years. I always thought I’d figure it out. Keep my friendship with Ev, but have you in my life.”
Mallory held her breath, unsure of how to comfort Beckett when he was wild with emotions. Her normally stoic friend was crumbling before her eyes, and she had no words of comfort, nothing to reassure him that it would all work out in the end. “No matter what happens, you’ll have me in your life.”
Beckett’s head fell back and he stared at the ceiling for a moment. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, the flush still bright and angry on his skin. “I want all of you, Mal. I want it all.” His head dipped back and he snagged her gaze. His gray eyes were electric behind his smudged glasses, and Mallory didn’t know if she should be afraid or turned on. “You know what I realized last night at the engagement party? Having you on my arm, walking through the evening together? This freaking sucks.”
Misunderstanding his words, Mallory flinched. “Oh,” she said lamely, hating that she didn’t have the words to make this situation better; didn’t have the words to show Beckett they were worth all the potential heart ache.
Finally, if only for an instant, Beckett’s demeanor cracked and he chuckled. “It didn’t suck because I was with you, Mal. It sucked because I wanted to be with you. I didn’t want your parents making jabs about us not finding dates, your sisters saying we settled for each other.” He banged his hand on his chest. “I wanted to have you on my arm, hands linked, stolen kisses in front of the whole damn world. I want you, all of you. And I want everyone in our lives to know it and understand it. To see how much we make sense, because from where I’m standing, there won’t be anyone else.”
Mallory’s feet itched to run to him, to close the distance and promise nothing but perfection moving forward. But the image of him leaving with Julia, the lack of explanation when Evan pushed, that still echoed in her mind. “But you didn’t say anything to Evan. Beckett, you left with another woman without a backward glance.”
Beckett ran a hand down his face, his glasses catching at the bridge of his nose. Shoulders sagging, he fell back onto the couch, long limbs akimbo. “Mallory.” The sound of her full name brought her up short. “I could not keep far away enough from that poor woman. No matter where I went, she was there. And all I could think was that I wanted to be anywhere with you. Hell, even in a spaceship headed toward the sun would have been a welcome alternative.”
“Then why did you let me come home alone? Why did you make me out to be the fool, again?”
“Because I don’t have anyone else.” His argument was barely a whisper. At first, Mallory didn’t know what to say, she hated that they were back here again. She’d made a promise to herself never to wait around for Beckett Fox to make the right decision, to choose her.
“I don’t know how else to tell you that—”
“My dad didn’t even come to Gramps’s funeral.” Beckett’s admission rang throughout Mallory’s apartment, and she felt her knees give out.
Easing herself onto the far end of the couch, she pivoted to face him. Beckett didn’t move, his head resting on a cushion, gaze locked at a spot in the distance known only to him. “What?”
He licked his lips and sighed. “My dad texted ,” he emphasized the word, his mouth curled in disgust. “He texted to say he didn’t want to make the trip from California. He heard from the attorney that Gramps left the farm to me, and he didn’t see a reason to come back.”
Abandoning her own emotions, Mallory reached out and took Beckett’s hand. She squeezed it with all her might, hoping he could feel her support through their twined fingers. “Your father isn’t a good person,” she started, hating that she didn’t have more than platitudes to offer. “I’m sorry he didn’t come back.”
Beckett didn’t move, his hand as limp as a dead fish in her own, but he didn’t pull away. “I stood there, at the entrance to the orchard where Gram and Gramps are buried, waiting for Dad to show. I’d called, nearly begged him to join me. I needed the support after losing the most important person in my life. The son of a bitch never even returned my calls.”
“I’m so sorry.” Mallory’s apology was a whisper lost to the moment. They were just words, words that held nothing of value.
“As I stood there,” Beckett continued, his eyes locked in place, “I thought to myself, this is it. I don’t have anyone else who cares about me. Then I thought of you and Evan, and I knew I needed to be closer to you both.” Slowly, he turned his head to face her, and Mallory’s heart cracked in half at his hopeless expression. “I can’t explain it, Mal, but the thought of not having you both in my life guts me. If I’m not Foxy, I’m no one.”
“That’s not true,” Mallory tried to argue, but Beckett wasn’t having it.
“I have my online friends, strangers who share my love of video games and fantasy worlds, but I don’t have connections with anyone else. I don’t want to be alone anymore, but I don’t know how to fix this.”
Suddenly, he pulled himself to standing and strode toward the door. “I want to be with you, but I can’t lose my only friend too. I don’t know how to be everything to everyone, but I promise I’ll try.” His hand on the door knob, Beckett turned and added, “I don’t want to lose you, Mal.”
Cemented to the couch, Mallory watched helplessly as Beckett closed the door behind him with a quiet snick. He was still grieving, he was still raw... and he was still hers.
Mallory didn’t know how, but they had to figure this out. Since getting Beckett back in her life, everything burst with color and warmth. She couldn’t fathom a future without his crooked glasses and red hair in her life. He wasn’t alone in this world, and she needed to find a way to prove it.
And the sooner, the better.