Chapter 18
Beckham
Simonstands in the middle of the room, chest heaving like a bull ready to charge, while I am the one stuck holding the red flag.
When I clamor to my feet, I pull Ellery up with me. I step slightly in front of her while she ties her ripped top closed. Feeling too exposed myself, I grab my crumpled-up shirt and throw it back on.
“Si,” Ellery says, her voice raspy with raw emotion. She starts to reach toward her brother.
“No,” he snaps, gritting his teeth. “Stay the fuck where you are. I need to—I just—fuck.” His hands run over his hair, fingers tugging at the strands while he tries to process everything.
Stupidly, I ask, “What are you doing here?”
“What am I doing here?” His words are clipped. Incredulous. “What the fuck are you doing here, Beckham? I came to see if my sister”—he stresses that word, throwing it at me like a punch—“wanted some dinner since we were both working late. Then, I walk into this.”
Warily, I watch him start to pace. Forward. Back. Forward. Back. Until he halts mid-pace and whirls back toward us. No words. Not yet. Just an intense glare.
His fingers twitch like he is fighting the impulse to pull his gun on me. The longer he watches us, the angrier he gets, like an angel of death and destruction come to wreck everything in sight. Right now, he has his sights on me.
And, the worst part is, I know the look on his face. Have seen that devastation directed at countless others over the years, never at me.
Not until now.
“How long has this been going on? How long have you been sneaking around behind my back?”
Simon’s words are quiet. Lethal. He looks first at Ellery, but she just shakes her head. She is staring at the floor, unable to speak as tears gather in her eyes and spill over. Then his gaze lands on me. Simon’s face hardens to granite.
“Beckham?” he demands.
“Officially? A few weeks.”
“Unofficially?”
I close my eyes, wincing slightly. “Since Ellery first came home.”
“Simon, please.” Ellery’s voice is brittle. “We were going to tell you—”
“Yeah? What the hell happened? Couldn’t find the right time?” He threw his arms out wide. “You had weeks to tell me, Ellery. Months, even. But I have to find out like this?”
Ellery flinches as if he struck her.
On instinct, I take a protective step in front of her. My hands are lifted, palms out, while I do my best to placate him. “I asked her not to say anything, Simon. Take it out on me.”
“Believe me, asshole, I plan to.”
Without warning, his fist slams into the side of my face. Ellery cries out. My head jolts back. Throbbing pain blooms at the point of impact.
Gingerly, I move my jaw back and forth. Nothing feels broken. It will hurt like hell in the morning, though.
Meanwhile, Simon’s fists are still tightly clenched at his sides. He is itching for a fight. When I square my shoulders and level my gaze at him, his eyes flash dangerously.
“That all?” I ask. “Go ahead, man. Hit me again.”
Ellery gasps, but I keep my eyes on her brother.
He wants to. I can see the battle waging inside his head. He knows he can hit me. Could beat me to a pulp if he wants to. Nothing for me to do but stand here and take it because I deserve every punch.
Only he doesn’t take the bait.
“You’re lucky I’m a cop, fucker, or I would lay you out.”
Then, despite my best attempts to keep the focus on me, Simon turns on his sister.
“I can’t stop you from doing what you want,” he says, “but I’ll be damned if I condone this. You know him.” He jabs a finger in my direction and I recoil from the malice in his words. “You know what he’s like. What he has always been like. And when he finally throws you aside like all the others, don’t come running to me.”
“Simon,” I call out. His attention shifts back to me. “Ellery is different. This”—I motion between her and me— “is different.”
“How, Beckham?” he scoffs. “Tell me how the hell this is different than any other time you’ve pursued a woman. For years, you told me you would never date. Never fall in love or get married. That you were incapable of it.”
“I know, but—”
But what? Fuck. I’m asking him to understand what I don’t quite understand myself.
“Do you love Ellery? Want a future with her?”
My pulse thunders in my ears, blocking out all other sounds. Everything in me screams, Yes!, but my mouth won’t form the words. Instead, I stand there, frozen in panic, caught like a deer in headlights.
Each second that ticks by drains more and more of the rage consuming Simon. Replaced by something else. Something much worse.
Disappointment.
“Not so different after all,” he claims. Then, without ceremony, he turns and heads toward the exit.
Ellery and I stare after him. His boots thud along the floorboards with each long stride. I expect him to slam the door behind him, but it closes quietly. The only sound is the snick of the latch catching.
My eyes stay on the closed door. Waiting. For what, exactly?
Hell. I don’t know.
Maybe for Simon to walk back in. For him to scream at me or use me as a punching bag. Anything to get all of his anger out. Anything so that we can get past this mess.
But, as seconds stretch into minutes, I realize he won’t be coming back. Suddenly my lungs need air. I storm out of the house. Ellery rushes to follow.
The darkening sky outside is a perfect fit for my mood. Bleak and angry. My steps slow to a stop halfway across the front lawn, and then I take several measured breaths, inhaling the crisp scent of earth and ozone that precedes heavy rainfall.
How the fuck did I let this happen?
How the fuck do I fix it?
Ellery moves behind me. Her footsteps are slow and measured like she is approaching a wounded animal. In some ways, maybe she is.
I certainly feel a bit feral—and a lot damaged.
Her sweet blossom scent blooms when she steps close. Even then, knowing she is there, the feel of her small hand in between my shoulder blades startles me. She quickly lets her hand fall away, but the heat remains like a brand.
“Beckham, talk to me. Please.”
Her voice sounds so fragile. I hate it. Hate how everything has blown up in my face. Hate that no matter which way I go, what choice I make, someone is going to get hurt.
Hate that there is no right answer.
Fuck.
Pressure builds along my temples. Fills my ears until they ring. Dark spots flicker in my peripheral vision and the world around me pulses, threatening to spin out of control.
The need to escape, to run, claws at my insides. I bite out, “I have to go.”
“What? No!”
But, already I am pulling back, putting distance between her and me. Physically and emotionally. “I can’t do this anymore, Ellery. I thought I could, but I was wrong. About so many things.”
“Stay. Talk to me. We can figure this out together. We can—” Ellery’s voice catches. In desperation, she grabs hold of my wrist. “Please.”
The pleading look on her face says, Stay with me. Choose me.
Her lips say, “I love you.”
Those three little words wrap themselves around my heart like brambles and squeeze. I have to close my eyes against the sharp pricks of pain. But, Ellery isn’t done. She steps close. Her hands cradle my face, anchoring me to her. My lungs expand with a shuddering inhale.
“I know you love me, too,” she whispers.
My chest spasms. “No. I don’t.” I can’t.
“You do.” She sounds so sure. I wish I could have that kind of faith in myself. “You may not be able to say the words, but you show me in other ways.”
I muster the strength to step back from her grasp.
“You deserve the words, Elle, and more. More than I am capable of.”
“Stop it. You are one of the best men I know,” she argues. “You deserve to be loved. To be happy.”
“Quit making me into something I’m not.”
“So, that’s it, then?” Frustration colors her features. “You’re just going to run away. Take the easy way out.”
“You think this is easy for me? You think I want any of this?”
Ellery jerks back at the venom in my voice. But then she stands tall, chin raised and claws out. My fierce kitten, ready to do battle.
“No! But I do think you’re scared,” she counters. “I think you keep using Simon as an excuse because it’s easier than being vulnerable. I think that what we have is worth fighting for, only you’re too damned stubborn and afraid to see it!”
Something in me snaps at that.
“Are you willing to lose your brother, the only family you have left, over this?” I motion between us. “Over us? Because I refuse to let my closest friendship rip to shreds.”
“Why does it have to be one or the other?”
“Because this isn’t worth fighting for,” I say, throwing the words back at her. “What you and I had was fun while it lasted, sweetheart, but none of it was real.”
My harsh voice rings out in the silence, a Molotov cocktail of frustration, helplessness, and anger that explodes out of me. Seconds later, the blast hits its mark. Ellery steps back. Hurt blooms on her face.
“You don’t mean that,” she whispers.
But I am too far gone to stop. Brick by brick, I use my words as mortar to rebuild the wall around my heart.
This time to keep out the only woman I have ever let in.
“Yes,” I say firmly, “I do. We built up this fantasy in our minds, but that’s all it was. Just a fantasy.”
God. Even though it’s what I want, I hate watching the fight drain out of her. Hate hearing the defeat in her voice.
“You know what? You’re right.” Her eyes glisten when they meet mine. “No matter what I do, no matter how hard I try, I won’t ever be enough. Will I? Enough for you to stay, to show Simon that what we have is real. Enough for you to admit that you love me as much as I love you. Enough for you to take the risk.”
Her hands clench into fists. Wearily, she drops her head. Her expression is haunted, voice trembling, when she finally raises her gaze back to mine.
“You let me fall in love with you,” she accuses, “knowing that I never had a chance.”
Each word is hurled like a weapon, battering something deep inside me. I almost buckle under their assault.
Because there is truth to them.
Because I am the one who isn’t enough.
Because she is giving up—and despite it all, I don’t want her to.
Which means I need to leave. Now. Before I do something stupid like take it all back.
This is for the best.
Ellery was never meant to be mine.
Steeling myself, I turn and start to walk away. Ellery shouts after me. One final battle cry.
“You made a promise to me, Beckham James! Or, was that fake, too?”
Her words stop me right in my tracks. That hesitation is all the opening she needs to strike. She hurls my words back at me.
“You and me,” she says slowly. Deliberately. “No matter what happens. I’m all in.” Her voice breaks. “That’s what you told me.”
One final nail in my coffin. One more twist of the knife to sever the fragile threads still connecting us.
“I lied.”