20. Sawyer #2
Beckett shrugged. “I’m trying to be on my best behavior.”
Best behavior? The Beckett I knew didn’t give a shit about behaving. He constantly pushed my buttons, irritating me until I finally broke down and let him in.
He sighed, running a hand along the back of his neck. “I don’t know, Sawyer. I just have a lot on my mind. I don’t really want to talk about it right now.”
I was being unreasonable, I knew this. He had every right to his privacy, but I couldn’t let it go.
My anxiety wouldn’t let me. “Tough shit. You’ve wanted to talk about all kinds of things, so you’re not getting out of it now.
” My tone was a little harsher than intended, but the rapidly rising panic was already too high to be polite.
“I’m sorry if a soccer game wasn’t what you had in mind, but—”
“It wasn’t that. I had a good time,” he said, earnestly. “I was honored you chose to share that with me. You didn’t have to invite me.”
“Okay, so… What’s wrong?”
Looking dejected, he sighed. “It wasn’t even something you said or did.
It was me. My own thoughts. I just…” He shook his head.
“I don’t know. I realized that no matter what happens, you’ll always want to stay in Pinecrest, and there’s nothing I can do to change that.
If I want to be a prominent part of our son’s life, I have to leave everything I know to make that happen.
Then it kind of hit me that was one of the reasons you kept it from me.
Because you thought I’d take him away because I could.
” He blew out a sharp breath. “Honestly? It kind of fucked with my head.”
“Oh.” The single word wasn’t enough, but I wasn’t sure what else to say.
His feelings were understandable, and he was right.
Knowing where and how he lived was one of the many reasons I’d decided not to reach out.
Since he waltzed back into my life, I hadn’t given much thought to what we would do once the baby came.
“Yeah. Oh.” His laugh was humorless, but not cruel.
“I didn’t have the best childhood growing up.
My dad is a horrible prick, and he made sure I learned that from an early age.
When I found out that we were having a baby—” he swallowed thickly “—that we were having a boy… I don’t know.
I feel like this is my chance to right the wrongs of my past. I’m terrified, of course, but also strangely excited to be a dad.
” He was quiet for a moment before continuing.
“I just thought I’d have more time to get my life in order.
I had plans, Sawyer, so many plans to build something that could rival my father’s empire.
And I’d do so while relaxing on the beach or sipping bourbon on the Upper East Side, not fighting for cell reception in a small Tennessee town. ”
I appreciated his honesty more than he could ever know. It was rare to find these days. But honesty was sometimes a double edged sword. And this honesty cut too deep.
His job, his life, his family—however shitty they may have been—were all in New York.
I couldn’t ask or expect him to drop everything and move to a tiny dot on the map no one had ever heard of just because we were having a baby together.
But he also couldn’t ask me to do the same.
In some ways, I had just as much at stake as he did.
The bar, Duke and Liv, my grandmother. All of them were dependent on me. I couldn’t just leave.
Settling back into my seat, I glanced down at my hands.
They trembled slightly as I fought back my rising panic.
My body grew warm in the car’s rising heat, and I struggled to breathe.
Was he going to try to fight me for custody so he could live out his dream of being a father?
Would I have no choice but to leave everything and everyone I loved just to be a part of my child’s life?
It was selfish, considering he was probably wondering the same thing I was, but this was different.
He’d just found out about my pregnancy. This was new for him.
Meanwhile, I’d carried this baby for six months.
My body had nurtured his own. I’d seen his face on sonograms and felt him kick at all hours of the night just because he could.
I’d talked to my stomach, listened to classical music I didn’t like just because the blogs said it was good enrichment.
My bedroom was stacked with baby clothes, furniture, and more diapers than made sense.
I couldn’t let him take this baby away.
“Pull over,” I whispered, closing my eyes and clutching my stomach.
“What—”
“Pull. Over,” I bit out, already reaching for the door handle as he pulled off the road. The moment I felt the car stop, I unbuckled my seatbelt and nearly leaped from the vehicle, sucking in lungfuls of ice-cold air. It wasn’t enough. Not nearly.
Hands cupped my face, sliding down to the nape of my neck where my pulse was hammering wildly. “Breathe,” Beckett commanded. His voice brokered no room for argument, yet there was a surprising gentleness to it.
“I can’t—”
“Breathe,” he said again. “In for three. One, two, three. Then hold.” I did as he said, still keeping my eyes squeezed tight.
I didn’t trust myself to look at him. If I did, I just might crumble on the side of the road.
“And out for three. One, two, three.” When I did as he asked, he repeated himself two more times.
I followed his instructions perfectly, taken back to a time that was not so different from this.
A time when the roles were reversed, and I talked him through that stupid ferris wheel ride that changed everything.
I opened my eyes, surprised to find him staring at me with so much concern that it made my heart literally ache.
I considered myself relatively levelheaded.
I wasn’t someone who often got worked up into such a frenzy that I struggled to calm down.
But it seemed that nothing made sense when it came to Beckett and me.
We were polar opposites. We didn’t make sense on paper, or in real life.
Yet here he was, comforting me when he was the one who’d been in need of reassurance.
I waited a beat.
I waited two more.
Then I surged forward, wrapped my arms around his neck, and crashed my lips to his.
I wasn’t sure why I did it. Maybe because I hadn’t stopped wondering if our chemistry had really been that good or if it’d been all in my head. Maybe because I just needed something to break me out of the spiral I’d unintentionally put myself in. Either way, it worked.
At least, it did until I felt him pull back.
His hands came up, extricating himself from my hold.
Tears formed along my lashes, threatening to spill over as I looked up and found his eyes so full of pity.
It was a gut punch. It made me sick. Here I was, throwing myself at him when we’d both come to the realization that nothing short of one of us sacrificing everything would give us the outcome we wanted.
“I’m so sorry,” I rushed out, stepping back and covering my mouth. I hated how good it’d felt. Hated how much I wanted to do it again.
Even if I told myself it was just my hormones, I would’ve been a dirty liar.
“Don’t be,” he said cautiously. “It wasn’t that I didn’t enjoy it—”
“I shouldn’t have done that. I don’t know why I did.” I spun around, hand hovering over my mouth and muttering quietly to myself, “Oh my god. I’m so stupid. Why did I do that?”
“Sawyer, hey,” Beckett said, gently grabbing hold of my arm and moving around my body to face me. “It’s okay. It’s fine. It didn’t mean anything.”
Maybe it didn’t for him, but unfortunately for me, it meant more than I wanted to admit.
I’d spent so long putting Beckett into a locked box at the back of my mind and telling myself it was all in my head.
That the witty banter and easy going comfort I felt when I was with him was something I’d concocted, or that the goosebumps that’d peppered my skin when we’d kissed was just a chill.
But I couldn’t pretend anymore. The box had busted open, lying front and center, letting all those suffocated emotions spill out.
No matter how hard I tried to shut the lid and lock it tight, it refused to budge.
Kissing him for the first time had changed my life in so many ways.
Kissing him again six months later had the same effect.
Only this time, there would be no eager car ride back to his cabin, nor would I slip beneath his sheets and burn alive with his touch.
Friends, friends, friends. That was what we agreed to. Nothing more and nothing less. Why did I have to go and fuck that up?
We stood on the side of the road, staring at one another like complete idiots. Both afraid to move or say or do anything lest we fuck up further.
Finally, after a tense bout of silence, I hung my head. “Can you drop me off at the diner?” I asked, voice barely above a whisper. “Duke and Liv can take me home.”
Beckett glanced away, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed down whatever he was about to say. I didn’t wait to see if that changed. I reached the door, tugged it open, and slowly slipped inside. He stayed there for a moment before following suit. He didn’t slam the door or show his frustration.
He simply started the car and turned back down Main Street toward Lucy’s diner, driving the rest of the way in silence.