Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
EVERLY
After my brief checkup at the hospital, Beck drove us toward the resort.
He kept stealing glances at me, as if he were checking to make sure I was still there, right where he left me.
He hadn’t gone so far as three feet away from me since he’d shown up at the fire.
Either I was in his lap or next to him or he was pacing a couple feet away and glaring as the doctor or nurses looked me over.
Some people might have felt smothered by that, but not me. Not with him.
If it were my brother or my parents, I would’ve felt the need to be strong. To prove I had it all together and I didn’t need any help. That I was totally and completely fine, despite all that’d happened tonight.
With Beck, I could just be me.
More than that, I didn’t even have to voice what I needed—he always just seemed to know.
I wasn’t sure if it’d been his scary eyes, his barked commands, or something else entirely, but I’d received excellent care—and a pair of scrubs to change into—at the hospital and had been given the all clear to go home.
Except I didn’t have a home to go back to anymore.
Ford, who’d offered to take Chuckanut with him for the night since we had no idea how long I’d be at the hospital, had called while I’d been getting checked out and let us know what was going on.
The fire was out, and while the firefighters had been able to stop the flames from engulfing the clinic, my house was unlivable, if still standing, and there was at least smoke damage, if not more, to the rest of the dwelling.
I’d never been so happy to have fallen asleep on the couch downstairs instead of up in my bedroom as I was tonight.
I’d been able to escape out of the house with Chuckanut under my arm, only obtaining a couple scrapes on my hands and some minor smoke inhalation that was more of a nuisance than anything.
And thankfully, I hadn’t had any late-night appointments or overnight guests at the clinic.
I stared out the window while Beck drove, his hand resting in my lap as I held it tightly between mine.
Even though it was too dark outside to see anything, I imagined the ocean spread out in front of us and the waves crashing against the shore.
That was one thing I didn’t love about my home—it wasn’t on the beach.
The rhythmic sound of the ocean always lulled me into serenity, so at least I’d have that while I stayed at the resort and figured out what the hell to do next.
Beck pulled to a stop and turned off the truck with his left hand, leaving his right encased in mine. I glanced up, expecting to see the main inn, except we were behind the diner at the back entrance to his apartment.
“Why are we here?” I asked, my voice scratchy and raw. “I still need to get checked in.”
“The fuck you do,” he said, the words coming out as a sharp demand.
He’d been in his default barking mode tonight, but I wasn’t surprised.
That was his go-to when he didn’t feel completely in control.
And there was no way he’d feel in control of this.
I’d never seen him look so disheveled when he’d shown up at the fire, his face drained of color as he’d frantically searched the area for me.
Because I knew he was dealing with this in his own way, I just raised a brow in response.
He closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose as he inhaled deeply before slowly releasing it. Then, in a calmer tone than he’d used before, he said, “You’re staying with me.”
“Beck, I don’t—”
“You’re staying with me,” he said again, his voice firm but not quite the sharp command it had been.
I’d been to Beck’s place more times than I could count—his recliners were perfect for movie nights—same as he’d been to mine, but this felt different.
And there was the small issue that his apartment had a single bedroom and no couch, just two comfortable as all get-out leather chairs.
But that was a problem for Future Everly to face.
Present Everly was too exhausted to worry about it.
“Okay.”
He must’ve been preparing for a fight because his whole body relaxed at the single word. “Okay?”
“Yeah, okay.”
“Right, okay, great.” He jumped out of the truck and was around to my side before I could even fumble with the handle to get the door opened.
“C’mon.” And then he reached over, unbuckled my seat belt, and lifted me straight into his arms, kicking the door shut behind us as he carried me up the steps to his apartment.
“Are you serious right now?”
“What?” Brows pinched, he glanced down at me, the sharp angles of his face so much more pronounced in the shadows.
“I can walk.”
“You don’t have any shoes, remember?”
No, actually, I hadn’t remembered, and my throat tightened as I tried to swallow around the lump lodged there.
The fire had been so hot already when I’d woken up, too close to do anything but grab Chuckanut and run.
I hadn’t been able to save anything from my house—not pictures or the quilt my mom had made me or Aunt Shirley’s string of pearls—except my dog and my phone that’d been right next to me.
Which meant I didn’t have any shoes at all anymore. I didn’t have anything at all anymore.
Beck made a gruff sound in the back of his throat as he stared down at me. “I’ll take care of it.”
I knew he would—that was Beck for you—but I couldn’t find my voice to tell him it was about so much more than the shoes.
My whole life had just gone up in flames—literally—and where did that leave me?
Instead of telling him any of that, I just swallowed down my tears and nodded as he guided us into his space.
He set me down on the kitchen counter, then braced his palms on either side of my hips.
His hands were curled into fists, his face tight, and tension radiated from the stiff line of his shoulders.
And because he wouldn’t initiate anything but I could tell this was something he needed just as much as I did, I wrapped myself around him and held him to me.
He was frozen for a few seconds, then his body relaxed as he brought his arms around me, enveloping me in warmth and comfort, and I breathed in his scent that I’d come to think of as home.
It could’ve been minutes or seconds later when he pulled away to grab me a water out of the fridge. “Drink this.”
I mock saluted him but took the proffered bottle anyway because my throat was killing me. “Thanks.”
“It’s late, but do you need to call the douchebag and let him know I’ve got this under control?”
I froze with the water bottle halfway to my mouth and stared at him, my brows raised. “The who?”
“The douchebag,” he enunciated. “Seymour.”
“I have no idea who you’re talking about.”
“The guy. Sean. Seth. Samuel. Whatever—that guy from the diner.” His jaw ticked. “The one who was at your house.”
A raspy laugh burst free. “Sebastian?” I shook my head, grateful for this moment of levity after such a harrowing night and clinging to it. I could use a little redirection to focus on right now. “Honestly, what’s up with you two? I thought you’d get along a lot better than you did.”
He stared at me like I’d grown two heads. “Why the fuck would you think that?”
“Well, I don’t know.” I shrugged. “I’ve been talking about you both to each other for two years, and it’s been fine. And then, all of a sudden—”
“Whoa, whoa, wait. What the hell do you mean, you’ve been talking to me about him? I have no idea who that guy is.”
“Um, yes, you do.”
“Sunshine. I promise you I don’t.”
“And I promise you do. It’s Ash.”
Shaking his head, he furrowed his brow. “I thought you said it was Sebastian.”
“Right,” I said slowly. “Also known as Ash. My brother?”
He stared at me for a long moment, his mouth hanging open, and then the scowl was back in full force. “Then why the hell did he introduce himself as Sebastian?”
“Because that’s his name.”
He pressed his palms to his eyes and groaned. “Jesus, Everly, I feel like we’re talking in circles. If his name is Sebastian, why the hell do you call him Ash?”
I shrugged. “Couldn’t pronounce it when I was little, and Ash just stuck.”
“But he’s in your phone as Sebastian.”
I raised a brow, wondering how he knew that but ultimately didn’t care.
I’d tossed him my phone more times than I could count, and he knew my passcode same as I knew his, so it wasn’t like anything was a secret on there.
“That’s a long but entertaining story involving a mistaken and very blunt text meant for one of my girlfriends in college.
He threatened me with banishment if I didn’t change how he was listed because of the mix-up.
” I tipped my head to the side. “How’d you know what he’s listed as in my phone? ”
He grunted and looked anywhere but at me. “I saw it when you were trying to text Ford.”
“So you’ve spent the past few days thinking he was…what?”
“A really shitty boyfriend.” He scowled, like the words themselves had personally offended him.
I laughed again, this time spiraling into a coughing fit. The doctor had said this was to be expected and would go away soon, along with the soreness in my throat. I may have coughing bouts from time to time, but I only needed to come back in if anything worsened.
Apparently Beck hadn’t heard that part of the doctor’s speech because he shoved my water bottle at me, face drawn in a scowl, and barked, “Drink.”
I rolled my eyes but took a small sip, raising my brows at him until he grunted his approval.
Once I could speak again, I said, “Definitely not a boyfriend. Just my pain-in-the-ass little brother who made an impromptu trip to escape his recent breakup. So, you officially hate the only member of my family you’ve met. ”
“I don’t hate him,” he mumbled, not meeting my eyes.
“Well, the reception was a little cold, even for you.” I sighed, shoulders slumping at the thought of having to tell them about tonight.
They already weren’t thrilled with my being here—as Ash had very bluntly pointed out before he’d left—but I’d felt coming here and taking over the clinic was what I’d needed to do for Aunt Shirley.
Regardless, it was not going to be a fun conversation. “I need to call him and my parents.”
Luckily, I still had my phone so I could do so, but that was all I had to my name.
My single possession was a four-year-old smartphone with a cracked screen.
I wasn’t even sure my car had avoided damage with how fast the fire had spread.
And just the thought of telling my brother and parents all of that exhausted me.
I loved my family—how could I not? They were great, but sometimes, it felt more like I was performing a part in a play when I was around them—my parents, especially—than I was actually living my life.
I’d crafted so much of myself in an effort to make them proud of me, I often wondered if the things I liked now were things I actually enjoyed or if I’d conditioned myself to.
“But I don’t want to call them tonight,” I admitted barely above a whisper.
“Then you don’t have to,” Beck said with so little fanfare but with utter finality, I had to admire him. He didn’t soften his edges or bend to the will of anyone. People got him completely as he was, or they didn’t get him at all.
I loved his harshness, his gruff exterior, the tough shell he worked hard to maintain. Because it made the glimpses of that soft, gooey center all the more rewarding.
“C’mon.” He gripped my hips and tugged me off the counter, then guided me to his bathroom. “You’ll feel better after a shower. Towels are in the closet. We can wash those scrubs tomorrow. I’ll, uh… I’ll grab you something to wear tonight.”
I was so tired, but a shower sounded heavenly, especially since I was still filthy and smelled like…
well, like I’d just escaped a house fire.
Would it be weird to ask him to stay in here with me?
Probably, since the shower had a see-through glass enclosure that would leave absolutely no mystery between besties.
So I nodded, and he stepped out of the room, his eyes briefly locking with mine in the mirror just before the door latched behind him.
Exhaling a heavy sigh, I braced my hands on the sink and hung my head. There was so much to do, so many calls to make, so many things to replace, I didn’t even know where to start.
But I could get to all that tomorrow. Right now, all I needed was a shower and a heaping dose of Beck’s personal brand of comfort.