17. Beckett
BECKETT
To-Do:
- Re-stock liquor cabinet
- Call Tatum (she’ll know what to do)
It’d been days since I watched Sawyer walk out of my cabin.
Days of self-isolating with my favorite bourbon while throwing the world’s saddest pity party.
Every time my phone vibrated, I jumped to look at the screen.
And every time, I pushed decline when it wasn’t the name I longed to see.
It wasn’t until my sister threatened to call in a welfare check that I’d picked up the next time she rang.
Even if I hadn’t wanted to talk to anyone, Tatum was the only person I could turn to.
She might make a few jokes at my expense, but she was also my best friend. If I couldn’t talk to her, who could I?
One look at my face had been all she needed to know something was wrong.
“Where have you been?” Tatum exclaimed, tossing the artist's palette on the table next to her easel. “I’ve been trying to get ahold of you for days. I thought you’d gotten dragged into the woods or something.
” She turned in her chair, peering closer to the phone.
“God, you look like shit. What happened to you?”
I hadn’t looked in a mirror for a couple of days, but I didn’t doubt her assessment. “You remember the girl I told you about? The one from the county fair?” Tatum nodded, and I swallowed thickly. This was the first time I’d said it out loud. “Well, she’s pregnant.”
“Run that back for me,” Tatum said, staring at the camera like I’d grown a second head. “I don’t think I heard you right.”
I blew out a breath, running a hand along my chin. My stubble was coarse along my skin. “No, you heard me just fine.”
Tatum blinked, and for a moment I thought she’d malfunctioned. “And you’re just finding out about this now?” she asked, eyebrows drawn in tight. “That was months ago.”
“Yup,” I sighed, staring at the crystal lowball glass in my hand. I didn’t even really like scotch, but the first glass had gone down smoother than expected and I was out of bourbon. Before I knew it, I’d poured a double. “Six this week, to be exact.”
Tatum tilted her head to the side, bringing a paint-covered thumb to her mouth.
My sister couldn’t sit still to save her life, but especially not while thinking.
Some of her best ideas came from frantically pacing the floor in my living room as she ranted and raged about a project idea she couldn’t get right.
“Did she say why she was just now spilling the beans?”
That moment hadn’t stopped playing on a loop in my head. Her wide-eyed disbelief, the tremor in her voice as she told me her fears. The worst part was how right she was. Not about me, of course. But if my father learned of Sawyer’s pregnancy, I worried what he’d do.
Either he would validate every concern she’d laid bare at my feet, stopping at nothing to diminish her character and strip away her parental rights, or he would refuse to acknowledge the child, and force me to do the same.
But it’d been the uncertainty in her features that’d rocked me to the core, because those fears had been aimed toward me.
Sawyer knew nothing about my father. She didn’t know how vindictive or cruel he could be.
The fact she thought I was the one to worry about had made me sick to my stomach, and I panicked.
Watching her leave nearly killed me. I had to grip the banister overlooking the living room to stop from going after her, convincing myself that it was somehow for the better. We needed time to process everything that’d come to light. I planned to do so with the help of my new friend, Scotch.
I blew out a breath, running my free hand over my jaw as emotions clawed their way to the surface. “She told me she was scared, Tatum. That she was worried I would try to take her baby away from her.”
“What?” my sister screeched. “Oh, hell no.”
I held up my hand, wincing at her reaction.
Tatum was the type of woman to ride in, guns blazing, without taking a moment to survey the situation.
She meant well, but thinking before acting, or running her mouth, wasn’t her strong suit.
“Put yourself in her shoes for a second. If all you knew about our family was the bullshit you found on the internet, the money, wealth, and power, what would you believe?”
Yeah, I was angry she’d kept this a secret from me, but I couldn’t fault her either.
I wasn’t ignorant of the shit posted online.
My father had his heel on the neck of most press outlets, supplying them with all the funding they needed to ensure the Montgomery name wasn’t tarnished.
Pictures of me with different women on my arm at various social events and galas couldn’t have been easy for Sawyer to see.
Nor did it give the impression that I was looking to settle down, let alone prepared to raise a kid.
Tatum crossed her arms over her chest, jaw working as she contemplated the situation. Finally, closed her eyes and sighed. “Alright, I see your point. Daddy dearest doesn’t paint the best picture with his publicity.”
“Nope,” I replied. Holding my glass up, I downed the amber contents. “But then I went and fucked it up already.”
“Well, duh. You’re a man. That’s inevitable,” she said with an eye roll. “What’s important is how you un-fuck it up.”
“Un-fuck it up?” I lifted my head, squinting at the slightly blurred image of my sister. “I’m glad the Ivy League education our father provided stuck.”
“Don’t act surprised. I attended the parties more than I ever did the classes. The life lessons learned there were far more valuable than sitting in a stuffy room listening to some old white guy drone on about shit I didn’t care about.”
I snorted. “Sounds about right.”
“Anyway,” she said, drawing out the word. “First, you need to figure out what you want to do in this little scenario. Are you wanting to be involved—”
“Of course. What kind of question is that?” I muttered, hiding the hurt in my heart. Did my own sister doubt my ability to step up and be a father? She knew better than anyone what it was like to be the shameful secret of a powerful man.
Tatum shrugged, paint-covered fingers toying with the gold pendant around her neck.
“It seems like she’s giving you an out. I’m not saying you should take it, but,” she paused, taking a breath, “you need to consider how these decisions will affect not only you, but Sawyer and the baby, too. If you want to be in their lives, you can’t come and go as you please. Things will have to change.”
I hadn’t stopped to consider that Sawyer’s omission could have been for my benefit as much as it was for her own safety.
Tatum was right. I could still walk away, free and clear from any responsibilities, if I wanted to.
Sawyer sure as hell seemed to prefer that option.
Maybe it was for the best. What business did I have being a father?
Or worse, what if I ended up just like my own?
I’d never know if I didn’t try.
“It’s a boy, you know,” I said softly. “She found out just before Christmas. I saw the sonograms and everything.” An image of a laughing little boy with dimples running around my living room popped into my head.
He was the perfect mix of Sawyer and me, with a wide, goofy grin and auburn curls for days.
How the fuck could I walk away not knowing if that would come true? The truth was that I couldn’t. I’d spend the rest of my life regretting my choices, chasing something I’d never reach because I already let it slip through my fingers.
My sister’s voice was smug as she said, “There he is. I was worried for a moment.”
My gaze slid to hers. “What do you mean?”
Tatum leaned forward, bringing the phone closer to her face.
“Look, I know you better than anyone, and I can tell by that puppy dog look on your face how badly you want to try and make this work. You’re no stranger to our father’s disconnect from anything that doesn’t involve a dollar sign, so I’ll cut the bullshit.
There’s nothing I can tell you about yourself or your situation that you don’t already know, but you are not him, Beckett.
And if you can find a way to make it work, I think you should.
Don’t count yourself out because you’re scared. Do it in spite of that.”
“What if she doesn’t want me involved, Tate? I won’t force her into an arrangement just because I want to be there for her.” Not after seeing how shaken up she’d been. Not even if it meant losing something that I didn’t know existed before.
“That sounds an awful lot like defeat, brother. Are you hanging up your towel before even trying to play the game?” she asked, settling back against the pillows.
“Clearly, the girl is dealing with a lot at the moment. All you can do is prove you’re going to be there for her.
Don’t go in barking orders or trying to change her life like some Prince Charming with a black Amex.
Just offer your support. And don’t be surprised if you have to put in some serious effort. ”
That was what Sawyer had said nearly verbatim. I’d offered her anything she wanted or needed, and she seemed insulted. Which was not something I was used to when it came to women.
But Sawyer was different. I knew that from the moment I laid eyes on her. Most women would jump at the chance to have me support them long-term, but she was determined to do this on her own. If I had it my way, though, she wouldn’t have to. I just needed to prove myself.
“You wouldn’t happen to have any specific ideas in that brilliant mind of yours, would you?”
“Flattery will get you everywhere, big brother,” Tatum said, laughing. “Of course, I do. Grab a notebook and a pen. It’s time for you to take some notes.”