Chapter Thirty-Four
I waited three days. Not as punishment. Because I needed to know what remained after the anger stopped making every decision for me. On the fourth morning, I drove to the Halvorsen ranch. Beckett was in the north barn with Travis.
He looked up when I entered. Surprise crossed his face, followed by something he quickly hid. Hope.
“Mara.”
“Can we talk?”
“Of course.”
He looked at Travis.
“We’ll finish later.”
Travis disappeared with the speed of a man who had learned never to remain near a marital conversation. Beckett did not move toward me. I appreciated that.
“I’m still angry,” I said.
“You should be.”
“Don’t agree too fast.”
He almost smiled.
“I’ll try to disagree more slowly.”
I folded my arms.
“Why did you approve the fund proposal before I agreed?”
He took a breath.
“Because the foundation had a deadline. Because I trusted Evelyn to talk to you. Because the idea seemed obviously beneficial, and some old part of me still believes a good outcome excuses a sloppy process.”
That was more honest than I expected.
“Anything else?”
“Because I liked the idea of supporting work you care about without giving you money directly.”
My chest tightened.
“So it was partly about me.”
“Yes.”
“And you told yourself it wasn’t a gift because it was a foundation initiative.”
“Yes.”
“But you were still trying to help me without asking whether I wanted that help.”
“Yes.”
He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck.
“It was more sophisticated than the saddle, but not as different as I wanted it to be.”
I nearly laughed.
“That’s depressingly accurate.”
“I had help from Dr. Archer.”
“You talked to him?”
“Emergency appointment.”
“Because of a press release?”
“Because I thought I had become a different man and then discovered the old one still had keys.”
The line hit me hard. I stepped closer.
“I don’t need you to become a different man.”
He looked at me.
“I need you to become more conscious inside the man you already are.”
His eyes burned.
“I’m trying.”
“I know.”
This time, the words belonged to me. He swallowed.
“Is this where you tell me it’s not enough?”
The fear in his face made my heart ache.
“No.”
His shoulders lowered a fraction.
“It’s where I tell you I was wrong about something.”
“What?”
I looked around the barn where my old life still existed without swallowing me.
“I thought trust meant believing you would never make me feel invisible again.”
He went still.
“That’s impossible,” I said. “Not because you’re doomed to hurt me. Because we’re people. You’re going to miss things. I’m going to overfunction. You’re going to solve when I want listening. I’m going to push you away when I actually want help.”
I swallowed.
“I think trust might mean believing we can catch it before it becomes eleven years.”
Beckett’s eyes closed. When he opened them, they were wet.
“Mara.”
“I’m not done.”
He nodded.
“You hurt me this week.”
He took that without defending himself.
“But you fixed the announcement before asking me to calm down. You changed the policy. You took the board’s anger. You stayed away because I asked.”
I stepped close enough to touch him.
“That matters.”
His hands remained at his sides.
“What does it mean?”
I smiled sadly.
“It means I invited you to dinner tonight.”
He blinked.
“You did?”
“I’m doing it now.”
A laugh escaped him, rough with relief.
“Then yes.”
“Bread.”
“Obviously.”
I reached for his hand. His fingers closed around mine.
“And Beckett?”
“Yeah?”
“I don’t want you earning me.”
His face sobered.
“What do you mean?”
“The groveling. The changes. The apologies. If somewhere in your head this is a debt you pay until I come home, we’re going to fail.”
He was quiet for a long moment.
“I think it started that way.”
The honesty hurt, but I needed it.
“And now?”
“Now I don’t want the old life back even if you never come home.”
He looked toward the barn doors.
“I like knowing Ana can run the program without me. I like Sundays. I like telling my mother no before I’m furious. I like that employees take vacation without three people calling them. I like knowing why I do things before I call them obligations.”
His gaze returned to mine.
“I want you. But I don’t want you as a reward for becoming healthier.”
Tears pricked my eyes.
“Good.”
“Good?”
“Very good.”
I kissed him. Not because he had passed a test. Because I wanted to. He kissed me back with one hand warm at my waist. When we separated, he said, “I have something to tell you.”
“That sounds ominous.”
“I decided about the house.”
I waited.
“I’m selling it.”
My chest tightened.
“For me?”
“No.”
The answer came cleanly.
“I don’t want to live there. If we reconcile and you never let me move into Harlow Creek, I’ll buy or build somewhere smaller. If we divorce, same answer.”
I studied his face.
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
“What about your mother?”
“She thinks the dining room deserves preservation status.”
I laughed.
“It is a very nice dining room.”
“You hate that dining room.”
“I hate what happens in it. The woodwork is excellent.”
He smiled. Then he looked nervous.
“I have another question.”
“Okay.”
“Not today. Later. When you’re ready.”
“That’s not a question.”
“I’m practicing restraint.”
“Poorly.”
He took a breath.
“Would you ever consider letting me live at Harlow Creek?”
My pulse jumped.
“You said later.”
“I failed.”
I laughed, then looked around the barn. The answer was no longer frightening. That did not mean it was simple.
“Not yet,” I said.
His face remained open.
“Okay.”
“But I can imagine yes.”
The hope he had hidden when I walked in returned fully. I squeezed his hand.
“That’s all you get today.”
“That’s a lot.”
He was right. It was.