by L. Wilder
“Not at all.” He moved his feet, giving me a spot to sit, and once I was settled, he asked, “You gonna share?”
“Of course.” I grabbed a couple of cookies, then handed him the rest of the package. “Have you been up long?”
“Haven’t been to sleep yet.” He motioned his head towards the TV. “I got caught up in the movie.”
I looked over to the black and white movie playing on the screen, and it didn’t take me long to recognize it. “True Grit?”
“Yeah. Seen it a million times, but never get tired of watching it.”
“You sound like my dad.”
“I remember you saying he liked John Wayne movies. My ol’ man did too.” Beckett took an Oreo and shoved it in his mouth. “He’s probably the reason I like them the way I do. Seemed like he was always quoting some line from one of his movies.”
“Mine did that too. He did the same with Clint Eastwood movies.”
“Yep, he’s another great one.” Beckett looked over to me and asked, “Were you and your dad close?”
Yeah, I was pretty much a daddy’s girl. I was always so excited when he’d come home from a long haul on his truck. He was a really great guy. He had such a good heart. Sweet. Thoughtful. Always there when you needed him.” I smiled as I said, “You know ... you remind me a lot of him.”
“Aw, come on, now. You can’t be saying shit like that.” He chuckled as he said, “You’ll have me thinking you’ve got daddy issues or something.”
“Beckett!” I gave him a playful slap on the arm. “I can’t believe you said that.”
“I’m just saying.” He teased.
“I’ll have you know that I’m not one of those girls with ‘daddy issues.’”
“Mm-hmm. That’s what someone with daddy issues would say.”
“Are you being serious right now?”
A smirk crossed his face. “No, I’m just messing with you.”
“You’re a mess.”
“Yeah, but I got you to smile. That has to count for something.”
“It most certainly does.”
I settled back and continued to munch on my Oreos as we watched the rest of the movie. When it was over, I looked over to Beckett and found him sound asleep. Being careful not to wake him, I eased up off the sofa and headed back to my room. As I got into bed, I was feeling much better and even slept a little. When I woke up the next morning, I felt fairly decent. That didn’t mean I wasn’t still rattled over seeing Lucas. I remembered how much better Beckett had made me feel the night before and went into the living room to find him. To my disappointment, there was no sign of him—only a note saying that he had to get back to the clubhouse. I was just about to go get my phone to text him when I noticed the time. It was already almost nine, and having to be at work in half an hour, I raced to the bathroom and took the quickest shower of my life. I was so afraid that I was going to be late, but after moving around like a speed demon to get ready, I somehow managed to get there just in time. As soon as I walked into the employee locker room, I ran into Jack, one of the restaurant’s busboys.
“Cutting it kind of close, aren’t ya?”
“Yeah, I, uh … overslept.”
“Long night?”
“You could say that.” I opened my locker, placed my things inside, and reached for my apron. As I slipped it on, I asked, “What about you? Did you have a good night?”
“It wasn’t too bad. After you left, it got a little busy until the end of the dinner rush, then things were pretty chill.”
Jack was a couple of years younger than me, tall with red hair and green eyes, and like me, he was relatively new to Chez Philippe. Even so, he’d done what he could to help me get my bearings on my first day, and I appreciated it more than he could ever know. “Glad to hear it. I guess I better get going. I don’t want to be late.”
“Good luck in there.”
“Thanks. With the way my morning has been going, I need all the luck I can get.”
I didn’t know just how true that statement was until I entered the kitchen. As soon as I walked in, Alexandre Bisset, the most arrogant sous chef I’d ever met, came storming over to me. Sounding like an overbearing drill sergeant from hell, he growled, “If you can’t be on time, then don’t bother coming in at all.”
I knew I wasn’t late but I wasn’t exactly early either, so I just nodded. “Sorry, Chef Bisset. I won’t let it happen again.”
“You best see to it that you don’t.” He motioned his hand towards the crate of potatoes. “They aren’t going to peel themselves.”
I rushed over to the crate and got busy. I knew that I’d have to start at the bottom. It was just the way things worked, so I never complained. I just did the work that was assigned to me the best I could and hoped that in time I’d be able to work my way up the food chain. I spent over an hour peeling all those potatoes, and when I finished, I moved on to the other vegetables, dicing and prepping them for the upcoming lunch crowd. As I worked, I watched in awe as lead chef, Antoine Boucher, and his crew moved through the kitchen. To an outsider, it might’ve looked like utter chaos, but to me, it was simply magical. It was as if they were all dancing to a tune that only they could hear—each of their movements were fluid, precise, and completely in sync with one another.
As the day turned into night, I kept observing, making notes of how things worked, especially where Chef Bisset was concerned. I needed to know what he expected from each member of his team. While it wasn’t easy to keep up with everything going on, I loved every minute of it. Being there, in all the craziness, helped distract me from thinking about Lucas—at least temporarily. When my shift was over and it was time to leave, I started to get anxious, fearing I might see him again. I’d gotten my things together and headed towards the back, but when I reached the door I froze. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t make myself step outside and into the dark. The thought of Lucas being out there again terrified me and I couldn’t move.
Thankfully, Jack walked up behind me and asked, “Hey, everything okay?”
“Yeah.” I glanced over at him and noticed that he was carrying two large bags of garbage. “Everything’s fine.”
“You heading out?”
I nodded. “I was about to.”
“You want me to walk you to your car?”
“Would you mind?”
“Not at all.” He pushed the door open with his hip. “Just let me take care of these first.”
I nodded, then followed Jack over to the dumpster. After he’d tossed the garbage inside, we turned and started towards the parking lot. When we reached my car, he waited for me to unlock the doors and get inside. Before I closed the door, I said, “Thank you, Jack.”
“Anytime.” He turned to go back into the restaurant and waved. “See ya tomorrow.”
I started the car and while easing out of the parking lot, I found myself looking for any sign of Lucas. Thankfully, I didn’t see him or anyone who looked remotely like him. Feeling only slightly relieved, I headed home. When I pulled up, Clay was waiting for me in the driveway. Curious to see why he’d come, I got out of my car and walked over to him. “What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to talk to you.”
“It’s late, Clay.” I walked past him with a huff and headed up the stairs. “You should be home with Landry.”
“Look, Lyssa. I get it. You’re pissed about last night and the way I handled things, and I’m sorry about blowing up, but—”
“It’s okay.” I unlocked the door, then walked inside. “I know you were upset and I was, too, but I think we’re just gonna have to let it go. Lucas was probably just there to see some friends or something.”
“Well, about that.” I knew my brother well enough that he was about to drop a bomb on me, but I wasn’t expecting him to say, “I looked into Lucas, and it turns out that you were right. He is living here.”
“What?”
“He moved here a year ago.” My stomach twisted into a knot
as he continued, “He’s been working with a couple of his buddies from back home at some heating and cooling place.”
“You’re kidding me, right?”
“Sorry, Sis. I’m not.” He stepped towards me with a pained expression. “I know this isn’t the news you were wanting, but things are different now. He’s married now ... even has a kid on the way.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better”—I clenched my fists at my sides as I bit back my tears—“because it doesn’t. Not at all.”
“Look, I know this is tough, but it’s gonna be okay.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because I’m here”—he wrapped his arms around to hug me tightly—“and if he even thinks about coming close to you, I’ll fucking kill him.”
“Thank you for looking out for me.” I hugged him back before pulling away. “I really do appreciate it, but it’s late. You should get back to Landry.”
“Landry is fine. She’s—”
Even though I wasn’t thrilled about the idea of being alone, I pushed, “Clay, I’ll be okay. Just go home.”
“You sure?”
I nodded. “I’m wiped. I’m just going to change my clothes and go to bed.”
“Okay. Do what you need to do.” Before I closed the door, he said, “I’ll give you a call tomorrow.”
“Sounds good. Be sure and tell Landry I said hey.”
“Will do.” Just as he turned to leave, he added, “Make sure you lock up.”
I watched Clay walk towards his bike, then I closed the door and locked it. I could hear the rumble of his Harley as he backed out of the driveway. I’d done my best to keep it together when Clay told me about Lucas, but the second he was gone, I lost it—not because I was afraid, but because I was angry. I’d moved to Memphis thinking I was getting a fresh start, that I was leaving Lucas and my past behind, and it infuriated me that I was wrong—that he really wasn’t out of my life. I threw my bag down on the table, and with tears streaming down my face, I screamed at the top of my lungs. I shouted a stream of curses as I grabbed the throw pillows off my sofa and tossed them across the room, then did the same with some magazines I had laying on the coffee table. I was in the midst of a total, raging meltdown when I heard a knock on the door. I figured it was Clay coming back to make sure I was okay, so as I opened the door, I sassed, “I thought I told you to go home.”
The words had already left my mouth before I realized it was actually Beckett. I didn’t even give him a chance to speak before I stepped out on the porch and threw my arms around his neck, clinging to him tightly. I felt his arms wind around my waist, and as he pulled me close, my body melted into his. After several minutes of holding me, he said, “Let’s get you inside.”
“Okay.”
Beckett followed me back into the house, and when he saw all the pillows and magazines strewn all over my living room, he didn’t say a word. Instead, he just walked over and started picking things up and putting them back where they belonged. As he placed the pillows back on the sofa, he looked over to me with concern in his eyes. “I’m guessing things aren’t going so great.”
“They’ve definitely been better.”
“You sure you don’t wanna tell me what’s going on?” When he saw the expression on my face, he shook his head and sighed. “Okaaay. Have it your way.”
“I’m just not ready to get into it.”
“I understand.” He studied me for a moment, like he was trying to make sense of what was going on with me, then said, “It’s late ... I best get going. I probably shouldn’t have come in the first place, but for some reason, I couldn’t seem to go home without coming by to see if you were okay.”
“I’m glad you did. Do you really need to go?”
“I can stay as long as you need me to.” He motioned his head towards my sofa. “I’ll be right here if you need me.”
“Thank you, Beckett.”
I did as he said. I went to my room, took a shower, put on my pajamas, and crawled into bed. As I rested my head on the pillow, I thought about everything Clay had told me about Lucas. Since he was married now and expecting a baby, I wanted to believe that Lucas had changed, but when I thought about the night he raped me, I knew better. It was that wild look in his eye. I knew then that my fear was exciting him, and dominating me gave him a thrill. It sickened me to even think about it, but I knew the monster that lurked deep inside him wouldn’t just disappear completely. At first, it had me tossing and turning, but with Beckett in the next room, I was eventually able to fall asleep.
Over the next few weeks, I’d had good days and bad days. I went to work, tried to face the day with a positive outlook, but it wasn’t easy. I never knew when the panic would rise up inside of me, crippling me like it had when Lucas first raped me, and while Clay had done what he could to support me, it was Beckett who’d helped me the most.
Every night, he’d come by to see how I was doing. If I was having a good day, he’d go home, but if not, he’d come in and do whatever he could to ease my mind. We’d talk, watch movies, and on some nights, Beckett would take me out for a ride on his Harley. Those nights were my favorite. I’d ridden some with Viper when I was younger, but it felt nothing like it did when I was with Beckett. I felt so free, so alive. I couldn’t have been more pleased the night he showed up at my door with a helmet in his hand. A smile crossed his face as he asked, “You wanna get out of here for a while?”
“Sure. Where we going?”
“No idea. Guess we’ll figure it out when we get there.”
“Sounds good to me. Just let me grab my jacket.”
Beckett waited in the doorway while I went to get my things, and once I was ready, he led me out to his bike. As soon as I had my helmet on, he backed out of the driveway and sped off into the night. Since it was late, there wasn’t much traffic, and we were able to move from street to street without any cars getting in our way. The lights of the city seemed so much brighter on the back of his bike, and with the wind whipping around us, I almost felt like I was flying. All thoughts of Lucas and work were gone. It was just Beckett and me, soaring through the night without a care in the world. After riding around for almost an hour, he took us into a neighborhood in Midtown. I was just about to ask him where we were going when we pulled up to a beautiful two-story brick home. Beckett parked, but before we got off the bike, he asked, “You wanna see my place?”
“This is your house?”
“Yeah, I figured since we were close I’d show it to ya.”
Beckett held out his hand and helped me keep my balance as I got off his bike, then I slipped off my helmet and he did the same. I followed him up the front porch and waited as he unlocked the door. When we stepped inside, he turned on the lights, and I was blown away at how perfect it was. There were hardwood floors throughout the entire house with furniture that looked like it came right out of one of those home-decor magazines. “It’s really beautiful, Beckett.”
“It’s just a house.”
“Well, I happen to think it’s amazing.” I walked into the living room, noting all the artwork on the walls and large lanterns on the end tables. It couldn’t have been decorated any more tastefully. “Did you do all this yourself?”
“Pretty much. Just kind of threw it together.”
“You did more than just throw this together, Beckett. A house like this takes a lot of time and effort.” I looked over to him and said, “You did an incredible job with it. You should be proud.”
“I’m glad you like it.”
“I more than like it. I love it.” I crossed my arms and cocked my eyebrow. “How come you haven’t helped me more with my place?”
“Your place looks great just the way it is.”
“It’s nothing like this, but maybe one day.”
“Something tells me one day you’ll have everything you’ve ever wanted and more.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Just a feeling.” He shrugged.
Beckett took me for a tour of the rest of the house, and it was no surprise that each room was just as beautiful as the next. I loved it all, but when we got to the kitchen, I was blown away. He had a gourmet stainless steel oven with a six-burner gas cook top and an extra-large refrigerator. The pots and pans were on a hanging rack above a butcher-block island, and I could imagine myself cooking in that room for hours on end. With wonder in my eyes, I turned to him and said, “This kitchen is spectacular!”
“I’m glad you think so.”
“I’ve always wanted a kitchen like this. It’s like you read my mind.”
A strange look crossed his face as he said, “You know, it’s getting late. I better take you back home.”
“Okay.”
I knew he was right. I had to be at work the next morning, so I needed to get some sleep. When we arrived back at my place, Beckett asked, “You good tonight, or would you like me to stay?”
“I’m good, but you know you’re welcome to stay.”
“Appreciate that, but I’m gonna head on home. I’ll check in with you tomorrow.”
“Okay.” When he turned to leave, I called out to him, “Hey, Beckett.”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
“Anytime, freckles. Anytime.”
He gave me a wink, then turned and walked towards his bike. I waited until he’d started the engine before I closed the door and locked it, then I headed to bed.
The next few days had gone pretty well. I was actually starting to feel like things were going to be okay, and then I saw Lucas again. While I was on the way to my car, I noticed him walking across the Peabody’s parking lot with a woman. I assumed she was his wife, but I could’ve been wrong. It didn’t matter. The fact was I’d seen him, and that was enough to put an end to my good days. That night when Beckett came to check on me, he didn’t have to ask if I needed him to stay. It was written all over my face. He gave me a hug, then sent me to bed as he headed over to his spot on the sofa. My mind was reeling with thoughts of Lucas as I drifted off to sleep, so it was no wonder that I had a bad dream. Apparently, it was really bad—bad enough to wake up Beckett and have him come rushing into my bedroom. He pulled me into his arms and held me close as he whispered, “You’re okay. I’m here.”