Chapter 7 #2
The quiet between us is natural. Easy. It’s like reconnecting with an old friend.
I take in the surrounding neighborhood, the way the early afternoon sun filters through the trees, listening to the chirping birds overhead. Yard after yard is decorated with vibrant flowers of every color, the sight of them making me smile.
Flowers will always remind me of my mom.
I’m lost in thoughts of her when my foot catches on a raised piece of concrete and I lose my balance. Just as I’m certain I’ll hit the ground, Beckett wraps his arm around my waist and steadies me, breaking my fall.
“Are you all right?” he asks, his tone laced with worry.
As a kid, I was accident-prone. During the summer, my parents and siblings would bet about how many times I’d fall off my bike.
Embarrassingly, it was an almost weekly occurrence. It was inevitable with the way I’d often drift off into a daydream.
After suffering from so many falls, I’m terrified of them. Of the scraped knees that sting in the shower. Of the possibility of a broken wrist that would throb beneath an itchy cast. Of chipping teeth again.
Willing my pounding heart to settle, I take a deep breath in through my nose and let it out in a trembling exhale.
“Josephine, look at me. Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?”
When I open my eyes, I’m met with Beckett’s distressed expression. “Sorry. Y-yeah,” I stammer. “I’m fine. Just shaken up. I’m not good with falling.”
“You don’t need to apologize.” He loosens his hold around my waist, and for a moment, as we begin walking again, his hand lingers softly over my lower back like a gentle guide. It’s a barely-there touch, yet it feels like a heavy weight against my body.
I can’t help but wonder what his story is, so I dive right in and ask the most pertinent question.
“What brings you to Hemlock?”
He hesitates for a moment, his attention fixed ahead of us, so I take the opportunity to really look at him.
He’s a very handsome man, probably around six-four, with slightly tousled blond hair.
The strong jaw shadowed by stubble gives him an air of rugged charm.
The top buttons of his dark gray henley are undone, his jeans are dark, and his brown boots have seen better days.
Warmth blooms low in my belly.
A slutty henley with a peek of warm skin and chest hair is my kryptonite.
The skin around his kind, deep green eyes crinkles when he smiles at me. “I’m a travel nurse in the emergency department. Here on a three-month assignment.”
The urge to ask about the wildest things he’s seen in the ER bubbles up inside me, but miraculously, I reel in the impulse.
“I’m also here for three months,” I tell him. “I’m actually moving into a short-term rental tomorrow.”
A sudden gust of wind blows, swirling my hair around my face. Pulling up short, I carefully push the unruly strand behind my ear.
Eyes flashing with amusement, he pushes a rogue lock into place.
When his fingers brush my temple, my breath catches.
His body goes rigid. “S-sorry,” he stammers. “I didn’t mean to encroach on your personal space. I just saw—”
Placing my hand on his solid bicep, I give his arm a friendly squeeze. “I appreciate it. My hair has a mind of its own. Sometimes it chokes me at night, and it even gets caught in doors. I’ll keep you on standby in case it attacks me again,” I tease, hoping to tone down his worry.
He smiles at me, his anxiety seemingly assuaged, the charming eye crinkles and smile lines on full display. He opens his mouth and inhales, but before he can speak, his phone goes off. Wincing, he pulls out the device and checks it. Then he drops his head, sighing.
“I’m so sorry. It’s the hospital. We're short staffed, so they need me to head in.”
“Totally understand.” I give him a reassuring smile. “Want me to walk you back?”
His bright eyes flit between mine. “Yeah. I’d like that.”
We pick up our pace on the way back to Main Street, and when Beckett walks up to a gleaming vintage black motorcycle, my eyes practically bulge out of my head.
Tattoos and a motorcycle? This man intrigues me like no one else has before.
He looks intimidating, yet he’s quiet and soft-spoken, and he blushes easily.
Though both times he came to my rescue, he was confident and commanding.
“Reckless and responsible. Nice.” I nod, taking in the shiny chrome details of his bike.
With a hearty chuckle, he swings his leg over the seat. “I’m glad you approve.” He pulls a helmet on, and as he buckles the strap under his chin, he assesses me. “I hope we run into each other again, Josephine.”
Without waiting for a response, he turns the key and revs the engine. The roar of his motorcycle is thunderous as it echoes through the small downtown area, causing every head on the street to turn toward us.
I can’t help the laugh that escapes me. I give him a shy wave, then step back and watch him ride down the road, only turning away when he disappears into the horizon.
Although our walk was brief and quiet, the time together felt profound. Because every time our eyes met, the companionable silence between us spoke volumes.