“You worked here when you were eight years old?” Ginger turned to face him fully, her expression the picture perfect demonstration of horror.
He sighed, realizing too late that he’d opened up a door that was going to result in an avalanche of skeletons. But maybe it was time that they laid everything out on the table.
“Ginger, I worked these streets since I was six as a runner. I don’t remember a time when I didn’t wake up with whores in my father’s bed and passed out losers and junkies in our living room.”
“That’s terrible.” Her eyes were huge with disbelief and horror, which was saying a lot considering how she grew up. Beck shifted in his seat, itching to get out of the spotlight of her gaze but unable to look away. “Oh, Beck.”
She reached out across the console, her hand cool against the heat of his skin. Before he could catch himself he flipped his hand over, weaving their fingers until they were locked tight, palm to palm. She turned away first—too soon—looking out over the street but she remained joined to him and he hung on, soaking up the connection and feeling its rightness in his bones.
“This is why you started DRAGON Slayers.” It wasn’t a question, and he remained silent as she surveyed the activity on the street as buyers and sellers peddled in vices too numerous to count. “I just don’t get it.”
“What don’t you get?”
“How the same guy who fights all of this”—she waved at the scene playing outside of his windshield—“could be the same guy who dumped me and screwed my roommate on my couch.”
Ouch. He physically flinched at her words, pulling his hand out of her grasp on reflex.
“What? Did that hit below the belt?”
“Nothing more than I deserved,” he replied. Everyone had that moment where they had to account for what they’d done in the past, but that wasn’t what freaked him out. No, he was afraid of what came after. What was it Ginger had whispered last night just before she opened the door and let him inside?
“Beyond this point lie dragons,” he said.
“I think we passed that point last night,” Ginger murmured, her breath warm against his cheek and neck as she leaned over to cup his face with her fingers and force him to look at her. Her eyes were dark, shrewd, assessing but they were also warm with concern, with emotions that made his chest tight and achy. “C’mon. I’ve waited nine years to understand why you did it. Tell me.”
Wedged between the pain of their past and the blissed out memories of the night before, he had nowhere to go. Nowhere to run. Time to jump and hope the free fall didn’t do permanent damage.
“An hour after I set foot in your parents’ house, I knew that I was the last guy you needed in your life.” He shook his head when she started with the questions. Beck just wanted to get this out and let everything just…happen. “You, your sister, and your father all tiptoed around it and said your mom was ‘ill’ but it took me five minutes to figure out she was an alcoholic. Growing up with Sandy and all his friends gave me the ‘drunk radar.’”
“So you didn’t want to deal with it?” Ginger’s face scrunched up with her confusion and a healthy dose of disgust.
“I knew I couldn’t deal with it. You weren’t dealing with it at all, and you’re family was imploding.” He hit the steering wheel, the frustration of that weekend coming back and dragging all of his rage and helplessness with it. “Your dad might be a war hero, but I think he could give Sandy Sutherland a run for his money in the race for ‘Shittiest Father of the Millenium’. He left you to do everything while your mother drank herself into a coma because she didn’t want him to leave on another deployment. I figured that out during the first meal, and I knew then that I had to leave you alone.”
“So you can help all these people but you walked away from me?” She nodded toward the people on the street in front of them, breathing heavily, hands balled up into tight fists, visibly trying to maintain her usual calm but it was an effort. “I really don’t get you, Beckett. It’s like you’re two people, and I always seem to end up with Mr. Hyde instead of Dr. Jekyll.”
“Ginger, I was in no shape to help you, be there for you. The only reason I recognized how fucked up you were is because I was right there with you, leading the way to self-destruction. I was barely hanging on with all the crap going on in my head.”
“But you were in medical school, working at the hospital…”
“Medicine was my hiding place. I could get so buried in the work that it shut out all the stuff going on in my head. When it wasn’t there I went to bars, screwed around, got in fights, jumped feet first into dangerous, adrenaline junkie sports. Anything to help turn it all off.”
“Turn what off?” Her face was pinched with her confusion. She wasn’t putting it all together and he hoped to God he could explain it.
“The shit in my head. The anger. The rage.” He thumped a finger against his forehead, against his heart. “That’s pretty much what I’ve got going on in here on a twenty-four-seven basis.” Beck leaned back in his seat, his eyes scanning the activity playing out in front of them. These streets were a dangerous place for adults, unbelievably cruel to kids. He’d survived, following in his father’s footsteps—one bad decision after another. “The Social Services Counselor when I first went into foster care said I had anger management issues but I think it’s more like ingrained survival skills. You don’t make it here without developing an instinct to make you distrust everyone, including yourself. I can’t turn it off, it’s like breathing.”
“With the adrenaline-filled job that runs you until you drop? Jumping out of airplanes?”
“Yes. When I slow down it gives me time to think, the quiet lets all the crap in.” He shook his head. “I can’t let the crap in.” He motioned to the windshield. “I can’t let this catch up with me.”
“What does that have to with the way you ended us?” Ginger asked, turning to look at him, eyes huge and inquiring but also wary and cautious. He hadn’t put that look there, but he’d made sure it stuck and that got him in the gut like a sucker punch.
Beck stared at her weighing the selfless desire to tell her the truth so she could stop beating herself up for something that wasn’t her fault. He knew, deep in his marrow, that once she knew the truth of why he’d be hard pressed to keep himself from doing whatever it took to have Ginger in his life. Because that was what he wanted. What he’d always wanted.
“I ended us because when I was with you all the shit in my head went to complete radio silence.” He reached out, dragging his fingertips along the slope of her neck, sliding back until his palm cupped the back of her neck, the strands of her soft hair a gentle brush against his skin. “You were the eye of the storm. My peace.”
Her eyes locked with his for a couple of breathless beats and then she shook her head, confusion creeping back into the line of her mouth, the stiffness in her shoulders under his touch.
“That makes no sense.” She shrugged off his hand, anger sparking in her gaze, her tone sharp. “You saw what I was dealing with at home. Why would you do that to me?”
“That’s why it made sense,” he hurried to explain, his own voice rougher than he intended. But anger, frustration, a million other emotions choked him. “I took one look at what home was like for you, and I knew why you were so good at being what I needed because that’s what you did at home.”
“What?”
“At home. Your dad was deploying all the time to dangerous places. Your mom was a wreck and buried herself in the bottle and your sister was falling apart.” He took a deep breath and hoped she understood what he was trying to say. “And you were the eye of the storm, playing mother and nurse and housekeeper and anything else they needed you to be. I understood immediately where the calm came from. You shut everything down inside yourself to do it.”
Her eyes got huge, and she shook her head slightly in denial.
“I couldn’t ask you to be that for me. Not when you were just starting to deal with it yourself. Tw
o fucked up people were never going to work.” He squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry for how I did it. That was cruel and my only excuse was that I was desperate to make sure you got as far away from me as possible.”
“It worked,” she choked out the words, wet and thick as she turned away from him, her gaze back on the street.
“I’m sorry.”
Beck reached out a hand to touch her face but she caught it, holding it in a heavy grip. It was like she needed to ground herself to where they were and he thought maybe he was in a place where he could do that for her. Be that for her.
She finally broke the silence, surprising him with her question. “So, did you outrun it yet?”
He huffed out something between a groan and a laugh. “Sometimes it feels like yes. Lately? Not at all.”
“Usually when people are running from something they’re running toward something. Figuring out what that is…that’s everything.” She turned her face toward him, her gaze searching him over, trying to peel back the layers and get whatever answer she needed. “Have you figured it out yet?”
Twenty acres of gorgeous land in the shadow of the Blue Ridge Mountains flashed through his mind.
“Maybe. I think I know where I’m supposed to go.”
She faced forward, grabbing her seat belt and buckling in before she spoke, her voice firm and signaling that this was not up to debate.
“Show me.”
Chapter Sixteen
“We aren’t going to get busted for trespassing are we?” Virginia asked.
She stood to the back of his parked truck, high on a rolling hill overlooking a huge lake and acres and acres of farmland, holding the six-pack of soda he’d picked up at a little country store on the way. He was rummaging around in the back for a blanket, and she took the opportunity to check out the beautiful scenery.
From this point she could see two houses in the distance: one an old farmhouse with a huge porch and white siding; the other brand new but built in a style that perfectly blended the old-fashioned with modern. The farmhouse was flanked by a huge barn and a smaller building with a large deck that sat right on the edge of the lake. The entirety was surrounded by the rise of the Blue Ridge Mountains. It was breathtaking.
“Don’t worry about it.” Beckett emerged from the truck with a large blanket folded over his arm. He slammed the truck door and walked over to a place where the ground was level, snapped out the fabric, and laid it down. He plopped down and motioned for her to come over, patting his hand on the coverlet. “Welcome to Promised Land Farm. Sit and enjoy the view.”
She followed his cue, sitting down next to him and offering up the soda. He opened the bottle with an opener on his keychain and handed it to her before taking one for himself. They both took the first drink, the simultaneous sounds of pleasure making them both smile. Virginia was relaxed here with him, the tension of Mills Street easing away from her muscles with the change of scenery.
“Are you ever going to clue me in on why we’re here?” She waved her hand around them. “This is gorgeous but I don’t—”
“You wanted to see what I was running toward…or should be.” He took another sip and smiled as he stretched his long legs out in front of him and reclined on his elbows. “This is mine. All fifty acres of it.”
“What?” She was confused, shocked. This wasn’t what she expected. “You want to be a farmer?”
“Hell no,” he answered with a skeptical laugh. “And that is what I told Sissy, Owen, Lucky, and Taylor when they gave it to me.” He pointed to the older home when he mentioned the older Landons and then the newer home at the naming of his best friend and his new wife. Beckett looked down to where his fingers were pulling the label off his bottle. “I rent my farming acreage back to Lucky and he takes care of it.”
“So, this was a gift. A really nice gift.” Beckett still wouldn’t look at her and she could not read his expression, couldn’t get a gauge on where his head was. “Is it a good gift? Because I’ve got to tell you that I think this is a kickass present, really.”
“It is…”
“But what?”
“It was supposed to be David’s…” When she shook her head he placed his soda to the side in the grass and flopped onto his back, staring up at the sky. “David was Lucky’s older brother, and he was killed in a car accident just before Sandy was sent up to prison and I came to live here with them. Lucky bought the farm from his folks a few months ago and they gave me David’s portion.”
Okay. She got it. That was a pretty heavy gift to lay on somebody, but she had a feeling that it wasn’t what was on the deed that bothered him but what it meant. Virginia wedged her bottle in the grass at the edge of the blanket and lowered herself to the ground beside him, taking in the view of the sky.
“You didn’t want it?” she asked.
“The point is that it shouldn’t be mine.”
“They love you, and they wanted you to have it. It’s clearly a family farm and they wanted to keep it in the family.”
“I’m not family.”
“They obviously think differently.”
His hands were on his abdomen, the fists clenched tight in spite of his relaxed position. She waited him out, not wanting to guess wrong on what was giving him fits.
“It’s too much,” he said. “I feel like shit that they have to accept me as a poor substitute for their son.”
“You’re a good man. You induce heart attacks on a daily basis with your crazy crap, but you’ve come so far. Changed so much.” She paused wanting to tell him what she knew to be true but not wanting to belittle the memory of David. “If David was as kind as the rest of the family, then I bet he’d be happy you’re sitting on his portion.”
“That’s what Sissy said.”
“Well she’s the one who would know.” They sat in silence for a few minutes, watching dark clouds pass overhead in the blue sky. The weather resembled the battle going on inside of the man beside her, his demons fighting for the light.
“Thank you for that,” he said so low she almost missed it.
“For what?”
He shrugged, turning his head to look at her and dragging her won attention to his face. Beckett was somber, his eyes churning with all the emotion of this day and a little more that she chalked up to her own confusion and foolish yearning.
“Thanks for saying I’ve changed. That I’m a good man. You can’t…” he stumbled over his words, a quick bashful smile twitching his lips. “After what I did, for you to say that…it means a lot.”
She swallowed hard, pressing her lips together in a tight seal until the urge to say more, to say something that would dredge up their conversation from the other night. Virginia didn’t want to go there because she wasn’t sure she could stick by her decision for them to be over.
“What are you going to do with all this land?” she asked, relieved when he looked away and she was free to do the same. It was a little easier to breathe without his gaze burning her up.
He laughed. It was sharp and filled with more than a little bit of disbelief. At her question or the abrupt change from where this conversation was so clearly going, she wasn’t sure. “I have no idea. Build a house?”
“Do you want to build a house?”
“I…I think so.” He took a breath and she felt him nodding next to her. “Yeah. I do.” And then he turned his head to look at her and she mirrored his movement, realizing just how close they were. Close enough for her to count the mass of dark eyelashes framing his topaz eyes, for their shoulders to brush lightly. Her heart seized up for the briefest second, and she consciously had to concentrate to get it to even out. “I have no idea where to start.”
“Buy a door,” she answered, not really sure why she said it.
His eyebrows shot up in surprise and he chuckled, his breath warm against her temple, ruffling her hair. “Why a door?”
“Why not a door? You’ve got to start somewhere.”
“Okay. I’ll run with that
since I don’t have a better idea,” he said, his eyes roaming over her face. She could see the questions forming in his mind, her belly tightening with dreadful anticipation. Today already felt like a season finale with enough mind-blowing reveals to rock her world. She wasn’t sure how many more corkscrew turns she could take.
But he didn’t ask her anything. Instead Beckett just stared, his eyes roaming over her face, gaze eating her up. She stared back, allowing the hunger in her own belly to show. She wanted him.
The sound of a plane overhead distracted him, and he turned his gaze to the sky. Virginia soaked in his profile for a few seconds the dark stubble on his jaw, the unruly waves and curls of his hair. She followed his lead, seeing the plane emerge from the bank of darker clouds gathering along the ridgeline.
“They’re low, aren’t they?” she asked, her eyes following the craft as it appeared to circle overhead.
“Not for a skydiver,” Beckett said, his voice full of envy. “They must be trying to beat the weather.”
“That sounds dangerous.”
“No. It’s fine.” He turned toward her, the hint of a grin on his face contradicting his words. He settled in even closer, leaning up on his right arm to look down at her, their bodies touching from shoulder to hip, his heat warding off the chill that was sweeping in with the coming storm. “You should go with me sometime.”
“No way.” Her breath catching a little, but not because of his suggestion.
“What scares you?”
That was easy. “Stepping out of a perfectly good airplane.”
“I get that part. It is always scary, but what specifically freaks you out?”
Virginia stared at him, realizing that he was really asking. Not looking for flippant jokes and tired cliché responses. He wanted to know and she wanted to tell him.
“The free fall. Nothing below me. No safety net.”
“You’ve got a parachute,” he countered softly, raising his left hand to stroke the skin of her arm where it rested on her stomach. “You’re defying gravity. It’s the most alive you will ever feel.”
Southerin Nights and Secrets (Boys are Back in Town) Page 13