Release Me – By Vi Summers #4
I tried to mask it by turning on the old radio alarm clock beside my bed and humming while waiting for the shower to heat. I needed some friendly noise to hide any sound my imagination could conjure at any given moment.
The shower spray was a solace until my head began to grow heavy. I only lasted a couple of minutes more before turning off the water.
Wrapped in a towel, I brushed my teeth while continuing to hum, then rushed to my bedroom. I hurriedly dressed and climbed into bed with all the cottage lights left on, just like I did every night.
Despite being desperately tired, my ears pricked at every non-existent sound that snuck its way through the music’s melody.
My rapid pulse wouldn’t ease no matter how many deep breaths I took.
As if clutching the blankets under my chin would keep me safe, I looked around the room and fought against fear-induced hysteria.
Just as my body began to relax, I thought I heard a light thud on the rear deck. It re-lit the match in my senses. Every one of them roared to life, alert and seeking other noises.
A soft knock on the back door pulled a strangled cry of terror from my throat. The urge to cry clamped my lungs, yet no tears formed.
Another soft knock on the wood accompanied my name being quietly called.
Goosebumps rippled and consumed my entire body as I forced myself out of bed. Armed with nothing more than my phone with the police station’s number ready to touch, I inched from the bedroom into the lit hallway.
As my trembling fingers reached for the curtain covering the long window that flanked the door, another knock rapped, pulling a blood-curdling scream from high in my throat.
“Mercedes! Open up!”
Mercedes
“Fuck, Mercedes. It’s me! Beckett!” came his voice again after my scream died. The honeyed tone I hadn’t heard in so long immediately strummed my heartstrings.
I fought to breathe, let alone find my voice, having to swallow multiple times to work enough moisture into my mouth to speak.
“Beckett?”
A brief pause came. “Yeah, baby. It’s me.”
An unchecked sob bubbled from my throat, and I shook my head. “It can’t be you. You’re in jail.”
“I got released, Merce. I wasn’t going to come back to town but… But fuck, I’ve missed you.” Heartache cracked his voice, adding soul-crushing weight to his words. “Let me in, and I’ll tell you everything.”
My fingers brushed the backdoor lock, hesitant yet willing him to be true. “Do the secret knock,” I demanded.
“What?” he laughed.
“The one we used in high school.”
His amused chuckle had me smiling a little as I dashed my eyes clear of moisture. Beckett knocked a rappity-rap tap tap cadence on the door, then followed it with a low wolf whistle.
“That brings back memories,” I murmured.
He hummed. “Before everything turned shit.”
“Yeah…” My fingers poised on the lock again. “Is it just you out there?”
“Yeah. Who else would there be?”
If only he knew what I’d been through.
With a deep inhale, I disengaged the lock and gripped the doorknob. I flicked the outdoor light on and left the chain on as I cracked open the door, then finally laid eyes on the man that used to be mine.
My heart tripped and stuttered as our eyes met and held.
Beckett’s body visibly sagged, yet he remained rooted to the spot. “Babe…” His voice broke, and his lower lip trembled, causing my own tears to threaten and sting the back of my nose again.
“I did nine years without you, and I don’t want to do another day more.”
“You pushed me away,” I cried. “You told me to forget you. You don’t do that to someone you love. I would have waited for you, Beckett. Instead, I tried to move on but look where that got me: looking over my shoulder, being too scared to leave the house, and living here.”
“What happened to old Ms. Alden?” he asked.
“She died.”
Beckett hummed. “Old people tend to do that.” I didn’t miss his inquisitive glance through the narrow gap. “Are you uhh, alone? Or…”
“Alone,” I muttered.
Much to my surprise, Beckett’s expression filled with remorse. “I’m sorry,” came his whisper. “Can I… can I come in?”
I made the decision within a split second. I shut the door without an explanation, flicked off the chain, then reopened it.
Beckett’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed thickly, and my attention lingered on his neck tattoos I hadn’t seen in over nine years.
“They’ve faded,” I whispered.
“Your hair is longer,” he countered, drawing my gaze back to his.
“You look different.” Him being here still felt like a crazy dream and not reality.
He was different. Older. Rougher. Standoffish when the old Beckett would have tugged me into his arms and kissed my breath away by now. Despite the contrasts, he still possessed the same calming presence he’d had when we were dating.
He lifted his arms at his sides a little. “Look, I know me turning up here was unexpected. And honestly, it wasn’t part of the plan. Fuck, I don’t even have a plan, but I just wanted to see you, even if it’s the last time.”
My heart dropped, and I shook my head as panic filled the fractures in my chest. “Please don’t go!”
The toe of his boot stubbed the decking timber. “I will if you want,” he muttered, looking down.
After pining for him for so long and wishing we didn’t end the way we did, I had to seize the opportunity to heal a part of us that broke in the aftermath of Beckett’s letter.
I widened the door and stepped into the shadows that scared me so much. A shiver raced down my spine, unable to be suppressed as I reached for Beckett’s tattooed fingers.
They immediately tightened around mine, but instead of readily accepting my invitation, Beckett paused.
“Babe, I’m different now. Jail forced me to change in ways I didn’t want to, but I’m not someone you need to be afraid of. Underneath it all, I’m still the same Beck I used to be.”
“I’ve changed too,” I whispered.
With a gentle tug and my entire body vibrating with anticipation, I took the first step toward healing us. “Come inside?”
When he nodded, I silently led an oddly submissive Beckett into the cottage and engaged the lock behind us. He seemed unsure of what to do—nervous even.
“How long have you been in town?” I ventured, thinking back to when I thought I saw him earlier this afternoon on my way to work.
“A couple of days.” He then smirked, sending me back a decade to when we were happy. “It took a little while to track you down, Merce.”
“That’s a long story. Have you moved back for good?”
Heartache passed through the lines on his face. “No. Not for good.” No other explanation or elaboration came.
“Then where…”
He raised his hand and slowly drifted his knuckles over my cheek. “A ranch out in Montana. It’s where I saw out the remaining months of my sentence for good behavior. Brandon, the owner, has since offered me a permanent job out there.”
“Did you accept it?”
My heart dropped, then dropped again when he replied, “Yeah,” with sorrow in his amber eyes. “I can’t come back to Gatlin Falls after what happened, Merce. It doesn’t feel right. I don’t belong here now.”
I nodded and blinked back tears, upset because deep down I knew it was true. “So you’re just back for the night?”
He cupped my cheek in his palm and inched closer. “I’m back for as long as we need, Mercedes.”
My eyes fell closed as I leaned into his warmth.
Within one inhale and the next, I found myself falling into his arms and never wanting to let go. His fingers tangled through my long hair and gripped as he hugged me tight, securing me to his chest in a long, overdue embrace that pulled a shuddering gasp from my throat.
As if spurred by our memories, his mouth sealed over mine and staked his claim. My tongue met his in a hesitant movement as we both carefully explored each other for the first time in over nine years.
A hum left Beckett as he took my face in both his hands and angled my head to the side.
My hands traced up and down his torso, mapping the shape I’d missed.
He smelled different, but the way he kissed me with hunger and craving had me falling head-over-heels for him again and again with every swipe of his tongue.
Once our kiss eased to an end, Beckett anchored my head against his chest again. “Fuck, I’ve missed you so much it hurts.”
I blinked hard to rid the sense of disconnection. Now that he’d returned, there was so much unknown. I didn’t want him to leave me again, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that this could be our final goodbye. If it was, I wouldn’t waste a single second.
“Stay the night,” I murmured, squeezing my eyes closed as if it would help shield my heart from getting crushed again.
Fingers rhythmically combed through my long hair before cupping the back of my head. With a gentle implore, Beckett took my face in his hands again and lifted my chin. My eyes opened and met the ones I’d only seen in my dreams since his conviction.
Those amber depths flicked between mine. Back and forth, searching, delving, speaking directly to my lost and beaten-down soul.
“I love you, Mercedes. I thought it would fade with time, but fuck…” A harsh swallow rippled down his throat, then he nodded. “...I’ll stay.”
His mouth claimed mine again in a tender yet commanding kiss that pulled a moan from my chest. Pulling away and scissoring his tattooed fingers with mine again, I led him to the bedroom.
Beckett stood at the foot of the bed, seemingly out of place and unusually awkward. Our eyes snagged and held, never once wavering as I slid into bed.
Gaze still locked with mine, he grabbed the neck of his hoodie and wrenched it over his head, removing his cap and t-shirt with it.
When I sucked in a sharp inhale, he froze. His new appearance rocked me. I’d expected the full head of hair I used to run my fingers through, not the shaved head adorned with new tattoos.
He ran a hand over his head and eyed me from under his brows. “Uh… yeah. It’s easier to keep it shaved…”
“It’s fine,” I mused aloud. “It’s… it makes you look harder.”