Chapter 20 #2
When he notices my curious expression, his voice suddenly turns shy. “In case you get thirsty, hungry, or bored.”
Appreciation blooms deep inside my chest, causing tears to prick at the backs of my eyes. Sniffling, I bury my face in a pillow to keep them at bay.
For so long, I’ve taken care of myself.
Over the years, I’ve wished I had someone to help lift me up when I’ve hit my lowest.
Now, after being by myself for many years, this quiet, thoughtful man has proven to me again and again that despite all the darkness in the world, there are still selfless people out there who will bring the light.
The living room that was once shrouded in shadows is now cast in a deep orange glow. The rain hammers relentlessly on the roof and the haunting howls of the wind fill the quiet living room.
It’s the perfect night to curl up in bed, wrapped in my favorite blanket, and fall asleep to the sounds of the storm.
Yet I can’t stomach the idea of not being in his presence. We don’t even have to speak.
I just want to exist with him.
He pads to the chair, but when Barbara sprawls out, belly up, he thinks better of it and settles on the opposite end of the couch. From the coffee table, he picks up his paperback. Then he shifts to get comfortable.
“You’re different, you know,” I say, my voice muffled by the cushion.
A breathy laugh escapes him. “How so?” He opens his book and sets his bookmark on the arm of the couch. “You can stretch your legs out. I don’t mind if you put them in my lap.”
If he keeps this whole caretaking act up, I wouldn’t mind putting my entire body in his lap.
“When I fainted, you came in like a knight in shining armor, swooping in to save me. Then creepy Kyle found me in the grocery store, and again, you swooped in.”
“I get that a lot actually.”
“Really?” I shift on the couch, stretching out my legs so they rest on his thighs.
“Mm-hmm. It’s one of the reasons I got into nursing. When I see someone who needs help, the shy, worried parts of me shut down and I turn into a different person entirely. A guy who is sure of himself, who knows exactly how to navigate the situation.”
“Have you always been like that?”
“Growing up, I was an observant kid, I guess. Quiet and watchful, according to my mom.” He rests his hands on my shins. “I got very good at reading expressions, and at an early age, I could tell when someone was in distress.”
I let out a sound that’s half laugh, half snort. “Guess that explains how you always know when to bring me my emotional support crossword puzzle.”
Looking down at his hands, he smiles. “When I was a kid, a girl a few years younger than me, fell off her bike in front of our house. She didn’t cry, but I could see the panic in her eyes and in the way she kept searching around her, like she was looking for a sibling or a parent to help. But there was no one.”
I stare up at the ceiling and close my eyes. For some reason this story sounds eerily familiar. Maybe it’s a coincidence, but I swear I’ve heard it before.
“I raced over to her,” he continues, “and took my jacket off, then used it to put pressure on her bloody knees until I saw an adult and shouted to them that I needed help. When the girl saw the man, her eyes filled with relief. It was her dad.”
My body stills.
No, I haven’t heard this story before.
I’ve lived it.
I’m the girl. The one who fell off the bike.
Memories rush back like a wave crashing into shore.
I swallow back tears, silently praying he’ll finish the story.
“I remember it like it happened yesterday. That man looked at me with so much relief and gratitude that I was there to help his daughter. Even commended me for my calm demeanor.” He chuckles. “He even told me he was happy I made it in time to cover up her bloody knees with my jacket—”
“Because she fainted at the sight of blood,” I say, my voice cracking and hot tears sliding down my cheeks.
The couch shifts under Beckett’s weight as he turns toward me. “Yeah. How did you know?”
Sniffing, I sit up, removing my legs from Beckett and tucking them under myself. “Because I was that girl who fell.”
Head bowed, he laughs quietly. “That’s why you’re so familiar to me.”
It’s so weird how the universe works. We’ve spent our adult lives on the move, chasing dreams, yet here we are, drawn together by an invisible string. It didn’t matter how many miles were between us or how much time had passed—somehow, we were always connected.
I swallow down the thick lump of emotion in my throat. My dad felt terrible for not being there to help me sooner, and after he bandaged my knees, he took me for ice cream, even though my mom had already started making dinner.
Another round of tears falls as I think about that day. As I think about my dad.
Still, I smile at the memory. Smile when I realize that Beckett met my dad all those years ago, and that moment made such a profound impact on his life.
I glance up at him and I’m certain he’s ready to wrap me up in his arms. “That moment really stuck with you. The relief a person feels when you’re there to help them.
You carried that all the way into adulthood. ”
“Exactly. Being a steady presence for another person fills me with purpose. Though it doesn’t take away who I am at my very core, which is—”
“A quiet, introspective, deeply caring individual,” I finish for him.
He chuckles. “I was going to say shy and socially awkward, but you made it sound much more poetic. Thank you for that.”
Silence blankets the room as I replay this conversation, as I consider the past and the present and maybe even parts of the future.
During my tarot reading before I moved back to Hemlock, Willow told me I’d have an emotional awakening and a new beginning.
Now, I can’t help but wonder what my life could be like with someone like Beckett by my side.
Could this be fate or destiny or whatever spooky shit Willow brings up during my readings?
I force my treacherous, overthinking brain to halt those thoughts from progressing any further. Because outside of Hemlock, our lives are completely different. It was a complete and total coincidence that we ended up back here at the same time.
One of the candles on the coffee table dies, making the room a little darker. The timing couldn’t be more perfect. I need some breathing room so I can clear my mind. This room and my mind are feeling too small for my comfort.
I slip my feet from his lap, but as I haul myself up, one leg goes tingly and gives out, causing me to tumble directly on top of Beckett.
Mortified, I blink up at him. He’s watching me with a look that’s equal parts amusement and tenderness, his arms around me.
Heart in my throat, I say, “I’m so so—”
With a gentle, knowing smile, he presses his index finger to my lips to keep me from apologizing.
And my chest expands. I fear I may be in too deep with this man.