Chapter 10
Beckham
“Needa beer, doll?”
I blink, trying to disengage from the thoughts threatening to pull me under. My client, Jude Warren, sits across from me while looking slightly concerned. Papers cover the table in between us. I scramble to capture the thread of conversation before it unravels completely, an embarrassed flush heating my neck.
How completely un-fucking-professional. Yet, I can’t seem to help myself. My mind has been consumed with thoughts of Ellery and worry over the dumpster fire I created that day at Lily Pond.
I’m damned lucky that this client also happens to be a good friend.
“Beer?” I echo unhelpfully. “It’s not even noon.”
But Jude is already standing, walking behind the bar. Moments later, she returns with two ice-cold bottles in her hands. One is plopped down in front of me. When she sits back down, she takes a large swig before motioning for me to do the same. Instead of drinking any, however, I cup the cool glass in between my palms.
“Anyway,” I say, trying to get us back on track. “As you can see from the blueprints here—”
“Beckham. Stop.”
When I lift my gaze from the papers to Jude, she is watching me. Blatant curiosity lights her face. Her lips are quirked in amusement.
“Let’s table the work talk for today,” she says. Without missing a beat, she gathers up all the papers and slips them back into my bag.
“Fuck.” I lean back in my chair, frowning. “Sorry, Jude, I—”
She waves away my apology. “Dude, it’s fine. We all have off days. I’m just worried about my friend.”
“I’m fine.”
“Uh-huh,” she says. “Sure. Is that why you have a scowl permanently etched on your face?”
I scowl harder.
“Come on, Beck.” She leans forward, uncharacteristically serious while she searches my face. “You can talk to me. Been told I’m a great listener.”
That’s not an exaggeration, either. Jude is a couple of years older than me, so we didn’t hang out in the same circles growing up. But when I returned home from the military, I was having a tough time and spending more hours than was healthy in this place. Trying to drink away my demons.
Despite being the owner, Jude bartends most days. She saw me at my worst. She was also the one who straightened me out, pulled me out of the darkness with tough love, and eventually even convinced me to go to therapy. In the midst of all that, she also became a really good friend.
One who is annoyingly persistent.
“Come on, mister,” she says. “Spill.“
I tip my head back and groan.
“Come on. It can’t be that bad.”
“Depends on your definition of bad,” I mutter.
“What is it? Gambling debt?”
My eyes narrow. “Really?”
“Okay then, not a closet gambler.” She taps one finger against her chin, thinking. “Trouble with the law?”
“If it was, would I be talking to you about it?”
She shrugs, grinning impishly. “You’d be surprised what secrets people will spill to the bartender. Especially when they’re wasted.”
“No. I really wouldn’t.”
“Ooh!” She sits up, snapping her fingers. “You’re gay.”
I nearly choke on my beer. “Jesus, Jude! No.”
“Hey, no judgment,” she responds.
I’m starting to think this was a bad idea.
When Jude sees my expression, she laughs and then nudges me with her foot. “You’re way too easy to mess with, Beck. Alright, no more guessing games. Out with it.”
“Fine.” I take a deep breath. “You know Ellery Brooks?”
“Simon’s sister? Yeah. Why—?” Jude leans forward suddenly, dark eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Beckham Elliot James. What did you do?”
“Why is your immediate reaction that I did something wrong?”
“Well, did you?”
The defeated slump of my shoulders is all the answer she needs.
“Okay then.” Her gaze turns assessing. “Why don’t you tell me what happened and I’ll tell you how to fix it?”
Am I going to admit this to someone out loud?
“Ellery and I—we sort of had… a thing.”
Yep. Guess I am.
“A thing?”
“Sex,” I mutter. “We had sex.”
Jude slaps a hand over her mouth. A laugh still escapes.
“Oh my god,” her muffled voice says. “You didn’t.”
When I continue to stare at her, she gasps.
“You did.” Her voice turns accusatory. “Simon’s sister… What were you thinking? No, wait, don’t answer that. You weren’t. Not with the right brain, anyway.”
“For fuck’s sake—” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Look, it just sort of happened.”
“Explain.”
So, I do. I tell her everything that has happened since Ellery came home. Describe the conflicted emotions I have, considering Simon is my best friend and the way that none of it seems to matter as soon as I am in her orbit. None of the risk. None of the reasons I keep women—and people, in general—at arm’s length.
All of the ways I guard myself fall away when I’m in her presence.
I just see her.
Just want her.
When I finish speaking, Jude whistles quietly. “Wow. That is… a lot.”
“Tell me about it.” I run a hand down my face in frustration. “I’ve never experienced anything like this before. My head is a mess.”
“Because you like her.”
I blink in confusion. “Of course I like her.”
“No.” Jude leans forward. “You like, like her.”
“What is this, grade school?” I ask, laughing.
“Hate to break it to you, but… grownups can have those feelings, too.”
But I’m already shaking my head. “You know me, Jude. I’m not built for that kind of thing.”
“Look,” she says, all traces of amusement gone. “I know you don’t date. I get it. But this whole ‘I’m not relationship material’ shtick you have going on is bullshit.”
An argument is halfway out of my mouth when she holds up a hand to silence me. I bite my tongue and let her continue.
“Without a doubt, you are one of the most loyal men I have ever known. A good man. One who would do anything for his family and friends.” She levels me with a glare. “You are amazing at relationships. You’ve just never met someone who made you want to try a romantic one.”
Until now, I realize.
Jude is right about that. But, she is forgetting one important thing.
“Simon would never want someone like me for his sister.”
She throws her head back and laughs. Loudly. So loudly, that I feel like I should be insulted.
“Only because of your playboy persona,” she argues. “Simon has never seen you even attempt to date. Just a long, endless string of one-night stands. So, yeah, he wouldn’t want that guy anywhere near his sister.”
“Gee, thanks,” I deadpan.
She waves away my sarcasm. “Playboy Beckham would never have a chance. But, the Beckham sitting across from me? That Beckham is loyal, protective, and honorable—don’t you roll your eyes at me, it’s true—and Simon would probably be just fine with him dating his sister.”
I’m still not sure about that.
“Also, what century is it?” She rolls her eyes. “I know Simon is your closest friend, but come on… Shouldn’t Ellery have say in all this?”
“Yeah,” I agree. And I haven’t given her that. “But I’m sure she wants nothing to do with me.”
“Because you hurt her.”
Trust Jude to never sugarcoat anything. It’s one of the things I like most about her. So, when she gives me a hard truth or tells me to do something, I listen.
She stares at me for a moment, assessing me. Then, I watch a smile slowly bloom on her face. “You fucked up.” Then, like it’s the easiest thing in the world to do, she tells me, “Go fix it.”