by Linda Kage
But I remained rooted where I stood, only managing a breathless, uncertain, “Hi.”
When she finally recognized me in the dark, her lashes fluttered rapidly and she pressed a hand to her mouth before whispering, “Beckett.”
I jammed my hands into the front pockets of my hoodie and shifted weight from one foot to the other. “They let me go. Someone—a witness—came forward with the truth, and they let me go.”
“That would be me,” Bailey spoke up, stepping forward and lifting her hand to wave at my mom. I glanced at her, a little surprised she was still here. As soon as I’d seen my mother’s worn, pale face, I’d forgotten everything else.
Mom sent her a perplexed glance, so Bailey quickly added, “I’m here to tell you undeniably without question that your son is completely innocent of everything he was charged with.”
After another second of gazing at Bailey, my mom said, “Do you really think I need a complete stranger to convince me my son isn’t a rapist?”
“I, um.” Bailey blushed madly and said, “No?” as if guessing before she turned to me with a sheepish wince.
Mom focused on me as well. “What’re you doing here, Beck?” she asked as if too weary to deal with me.
She looked as if she’d lost weight since the last time I’d seen her a few weeks ago, and gained a handful of wrinkles. Exhaustion had literally gouged out creasing into her pale skin. When I’d last called home the night I’d returned from a livestock judging contest for my fraternity to report the runner up place I’d won, Mom had told me how many problems she’d been having with her hands while she’d cutting hair. She feared she might be getting carpel tunnel. If that happened, she’d lose her job and there would be no money coming in at all.
Too many woes were piling onto her. And here I was, adding more weight onto her shoulders. I realized despite whether she wanted to support me or not, she might not be capable of emotionally weathering one more problem.
My hopes sank. “I…” Dammit, my voice was going hoarse. After a little cough, I tried again. “Can we come inside?” I asked.
She sighed as if she might give into temptation and allow me through the door, but then she drew herself up straight and shook her head. “No. No, I don’t think that’s a very good idea.” Her hands began to shake and chin trembled, letting me know she didn’t want to turn me out, but then she explained, “Britt is home.”
“She is?” I sucked in a breath. “Is she…how is she?” If she was home, she had to be getting better, right? That was good news.
But my mother didn’t look optimistic. Her eyes glazed with tears as she glanced away. “We just got her back last week, and so far we’ve been able to keep this trouble you got yourself tangled in from her, but it’s been all over the news, Beck. She’s going to find out eventually, and we have no idea how she’s going to react. She’s in a very fragile state right now. Just hearing the word rape could…” She shuddered and shook her head. “No, I’m sorry, baby, but we can’t have you here right now.”
I felt punched in the chest by her words, but I nodded because, shit, “I understand,” I said. Britt needed them more than I did. Except fuck, I really needed my parents, too. What the hell was I supposed to do until…Until when? “So…you’ll just call when it’s safe to come home?” I asked.
She stared at me a full ten seconds, disappointment brightening her tired eyes, until she wiped a tear off her cheek. “Beckett, we told you to go back to school, focus on your studies and stay out of trouble. Why couldn’t you have just stayed out of trouble? That’s all we needed you to do.” She clenched her teeth, anger showing through her pain.
“But, I didn’t…” I shook my head, wanting to insist I hadn’t done anything wrong. I was innocent.
Except she hit me with the knockout blow. “Your father said you admitted to being with a girl who already had a boyfriend.” Suddenly, she didn’t appear so beaten and drained. The last tear to fall from her eye shimmered with outrage. She was pissed and unable to believe the son she’d raised to be a decent man could out so wrong and do something so awful.
Shame lanced me. I couldn’t believe my mother knew this about me. It was humiliating. Hanging my head, I admitted, “I didn’t know she had a boyfriend.”
“Which means you didn’t bother getting to know her at all before having sex with her? Is that right?”
Fuck. No one could make a guy feel guilty and remorseful like his mama could. “No, ma’am,” I admitted.
“Then this is your problem to deal with.” She held her chin up in that way that told me nothing was going to change her mind. I felt as if I were basically dead to her now. “We cannot help you. If your father was here, he’d say the same thing.”
I swallowed, lost. But I whispered, “Okay,” because how the hell was I supposed to argue with my mother when I’d been the one to fuck up?
I started to turn away, only to pause, remembering one thing. “My checking account.”
Mom flushed bright pink, but quickly cleared her throat. “We were behind on bills. You were in jail. We thought we’d have time to pay it back before you got out.”
I stared at her, not sure what to think or feel about that. I’d been offering to help them for months, most of that money had even been saved expressly to help them, so I shouldn’t be mad they’d finally accepted it, even though I needed it now more than I’d ever needed it before. But it still felt like a theft to me. I’d worked for that money, hours of sweat and blisters and sore muscles, only for them to take it behind my back without even letting me know. It was almost as if they’d betrayed me.
But I lifted my hand and nodded, saying, “It’s okay. Don’t worry about it. After putting Dad out of work and losing you guys more than I could ever repay, it’s the least I can do.”
I just didn’t know what I was going to do with myself now.
Mom nodded briefly, not making eye contact. She started to shut the door, before pausing and saying, “Take care of yourself, Beckett.”
Then she shut me out of her life forever.
Darkness wrapped around me as the cold November air seeped straight into my lungs and froze my very soul.
My parents had forsaken me.
Chapter 17
BAILEY
“What the hell?” I shrieked, making a comatose-looking Beck jump out of his skin.
He swerved around to blink at me in a daze, and I had a feeling he’d completely forgotten I was there, standing on his parents’ dark porch with him.
“How could she just—your own mother! Oh my God. That sucked ass. I was just kidding about the meat cleaver to the heart bit, but that…” That had definitely been a meat cleaver of a blow straight to his heart.
He said nothing; he just stared at me until he turned away robotically and walked off the porch, down the front steps and moved stiffly toward his truck. But he stopped when he reached it, as if he’d forgotten how to lift his arm and open the door. He just stood there, hands at his sides, facing the damn driver’s side door. Pepper, the collie, even came up and sniffed his fingers before licking his knuckles and begging for attention, but he didn’t respond.
I had no idea what to do. I didn’t deal with emotional shit. But Beck’s zombie mode was freaking me out. I could only handle it for about two minutes before I whispered, “Beckett?”
He turned his head, and his head only, to look at me.
I swallowed, uncertain, before I asked, “What are you going to do now?”
He contemplated me ten seconds longer, looking straight into my eyes with that zoned-out dead stare before his shoulders crumpled and he shook, lowering his face into his trembling hands.
His chest heaved as he tried to console himself, but his agony just seemed to grow exponentially. When his knees gave out and he started to slump to the ground, I leapt forward to catch two handfuls of the front of his hoodie. “Whoa there. Hey.” I could barely keep him on his feet so I nudged him against the truck, propping him up so he could lean a
gainst it heavily.
“Why don’t I drive?” I offered lamely. He didn’t argue or agree, so I said aloud to myself, “Yes, Bailey. That’s a brilliant idea. Why don’t you drive?”
After manually taking Beck’s arm, I walked him around to the passenger’s side. I only had to open the door to get him to mechanically climb inside, thank goodness, because I had no idea how I was going to stuff him in there if he hadn’t been willing.
Then I hurried around to the driver’s side. I’d driven some of my brothers’ trucks before, but it always felt like I was sitting up in a tractor-trailer, steering a damn train when I did. Same deal in Beck’s truck, I had to adjust the seat way forward because there was no way my short legs could reach the pedals from where he’d set it.
Then I started the engine and glanced over at my rider. He looked drained and beaten and completely out of touch with reality.
“Put your seatbelt on,” I said quietly.
He did. So I geared the engine into drive and got us the hell off his parents’ property.
The drive back to Granton was quiet and dismal. Every time I looked over at Beck, he was gazing out the passenger’s side window. I could tell he wasn’t asleep because he was sitting upright, alert enough not to slump. But he still seemed to have checked out. I even stopped for more gas, and he didn’t seem to notice.
So I let him be until we neared the city limits. “Where are you staying?” I asked.
He shook his head.
Well, shit.
After drawing in a long, sympathetic breath, I nodded. Okay, so he’d lost his home at his parents’ place and at the fraternity, and his parents had wiped out his back account so he had no money to rent a hotel room. His ex-friend, acquaintance he’d spoken of probably couldn’t put him up for the night because I think he’d been from the fraternity too. So that left…nowhere.
I blew out a breath, out of options and not sure where to take him. He probably shouldn’t be alone. He was in no state to take care of himself.
“Is there anyone I can call for you?” I asked, already knowing the answer. If he’d asked me to go with him to his parents’ place for moral support, that pretty much meant he had no one to call.
One harsh, bitter laugh from him was the only answer I got.
“All right then.” I tried to look at this from all angles and find something good he could still rely upon. But he was out of housing, money, school, friends, and family. But he had…hmm, this truck! Yes, a truck was something. And what else? A job, maybe?
“Where’re you working?” I asked. Of course he had a job. Unless missing work because he was busy being arrested and gaining the reputation as the area’s worst rapist had gotten him fired.
I cringed, even as he turned to look at me. “I was a student employee for the university.”
Which meant he no longer had a job because he was no longer a student.
My shoulders slumped. “Well, fuck. I guess you’re going to have to come back to my place and crash for a few days until you figure things out.”
He merely blinked at me as if I spoke a foreign language.
“We’ll have to keep quiet when we come in, though. My roommates are probably all asleep.”
Beck turned to look back out his passenger side window. My heart broke for him. I’d be a mess too if my family had turned me out. I wanted to reach out and grip his arm comfortingly and tell him everything was going to be okay. But what the hell did I know? His future looked completely and utterly hopeless.
I couldn’t exactly tell him that to cheer him up, so I kept my trap shut and pulled into an open parking spot across the street from my apartment. After shutting off the engine, I sighed and pocketed his keys, trying to plan out how I was going to haul his comatose ass up to my room.
But after I opened my door, climbed out, and started around to his side, he was already getting out himself. “Oh,” I said, skidding to a halt when we came almost nose to nose with each other. Then I straightened and took his hand. “This way.”
I have no idea why I held his hand. I guess I didn’t trust him to wander off and get himself lost in the dark, thought honestly, I think I really did it because I wanted him to physically feel me and know I was there for him.
He blindly followed where I led, gripping my hand as if it were his only lifeline. At my door, he stopped when I stopped to unlock it. Then he moved when I moved, stepping inside. It was like leading one of those trained, seeing eye dogs.
I didn’t have to hush him because I knew there was no chance of him talking, anyway. We moved quietly up the stairs, through the darkened front room, then down the hall past Paige and Logan’s until we reached mine. After turning the handle, I pushed inside, leading him through the doorway.
Not sure what do to next, I let go of his hand to shut the door and then turned on a dim night lamp next to my bed.
I was going to say something about finding him a pillow and some extra blankets so he could crash on the floor, but the words stalled in my throat. His face was bruised and his shoulder slumped as he cradled his ribs. He looked so broken and defeated, I shook my head. I couldn’t make him sleep on the floor. I’d settled him down on the bed and then go curl up on the couch myself.
But first. “Sit down before you pass out,” I told him. When I took his arm and physically urged him to take a seat on the edge of the bed, he looked as me while he sank down onto the mattress.
“Last time a girl said that to me and pushed me down onto a bed I landed in jail.”
Then he cracked off a short bitter laugh before his face contorted with pain, as if he might start crying. But he didn’t cry. His shoulders jerked and he hiccupped a sob before shuddering out a breath. When he inhaled again, it sounded like a dry heave.
His face turned red and he gritted his teeth before clutching his chest and gasping, “Fuck, I can’t breathe.”
He’d briefly had this problem right before his mom had answered the door tonight. Remembering that I’d helped it pass by grabbing his hand, I cupped his cheeks in both hands and forced his face up so he’d look me straight in the eye.
“Yes, you can,” I said sternly. “Just breathe.”
His chest gave another huge, sputtering heave, but he breathed.
“Now exhale,” I ordered.
He did, closing his eyes and leaning forward to rest his forehead against my chest. My arms just naturally went around his head until I was hugging him to me. It was the oddest thing ever. I never hugged anyone, but it was like I couldn’t not hug Beck. He needed it. And I could tell he really did need it too because his arms went around me until he was clutching the back of my coat and holding onto to me for dear life as he shook in my arms and pressed his cheek firmly to my breasts.
When he sniffed, I cooed, “Shh. It’s okay. It’s all okay now.”
Nothing was okay, but I think he needed to hear me say it was, anyway.
I petted his hair and ached deep inside for him. His entire world was shattered, and his core foundation—his own family—had just crumbled under him. I couldn’t even imagine how devastating that was.
I just held him and consoled him as best I could by running my hand over his head. A crick started to grow in my back and my thighs began to burn from holding the awkward position. I didn’t think he could be too comfortable how he was either, so I said, “Do you want to lay down?”
He didn’t answer but gradually started to shift across the bed, lowering himself as he went. The problem was he didn’t release his grip on me, so I stumbled along with him, nearly falling on top of him as he stretched out.
He didn’t seem to want to unbury his face from my boobs, but I knew there was nothing sexual in his touch. He was seeking solace, nothing more.
Wiggling around until we were settled and cozy, we wound up with me on my back and him draped half on top of me, finally turning his face enough to the side that his cheek was nestled against my heartbeat. His arm stayed tightly wrapped around me as the occasional shud
der wracked his body. That lasted a good half hour before his breathing deepened and he fell asleep. I kept stroking his hair though, I think I’d become addicted to doing that.
My fingers didn’t want to stop comforting him, they might have even kept going after I eventually fell asleep.
My last hazy thought before I dropped off was how strange life was. I’d had exactly two encounters with this guy and yet I oddly felt closer to him than I could remember feeling to anyone. My arms tightened around him, hugging him just a little closer to me. In his sleep, he sighed as if comforted. Warmed from the inside out, I fell into a deep and heavy, dreamless sleep.
Chapter 18
BECKETT
I woke to light. An almost cheerful light.
It was strange. I was bruised, sore, stiff, my head was pounding, my eyes felt swollen, my throat was painfully dry, I’d been turned out and rejected by everyone I thought I could rely on and yet I felt at peace. I don’t know if it was the cheerful sunlight streaming in through the window, the softness of the pillow under my head, the warmth of the blankets on top of me, or the comforting texture of the human flesh under my fingers.
My hand stroked idly up the flesh, running briefly over a more-wrinkled nubby area, until I decided it was an arm I was touching with an elbow in the middle. My lashes fluttered open to an eyeful of kinky blonde curls.
I released the arm I was holding so I could curl some of the hair around my finger and then watch it spring up and bounce a few times. A small smile lit my lips. I couldn’t remember feeling this content for a long time, maybe even before Melody Fairfield had destroyed my life. I closed my eyes, delighting in the warmth of the sunshine and grateful for the softness of the mattress under my tender ribs.
But the moment was ruined when the owner of the arm and hair moved, letting out a moan of protest before flopping onto her back, nearly flattening me in the process and stretching her arms above her head—almost taking out my eye that time—and arching her back. Her breasts lifted, pressing snug against the cotton of her shirt, and things in me stirred, giving their own little morning stretch of approval.