Barreled Over

by Jenna Sutton

  Beck looked back and forth between his invited guests and his uninvited guest. “We were watching football.”

  Gabe glanced at Ren. “I like your place better than Beck’s.”

  Ren nodded. “Yeah, me too.” Dropping his hand to Gatsby’s shoulder, he said, “Tell Beck good-bye, sweetheart.”

  Gatsby ran to Beck and threw her arms around his waist. “Bye, Beck.”

  Patting her back, he said, “See you later, Gats.”

  She glanced up. “Can Chicken stay the night with us?”

  Beck caught Ren’s eyes, and his best friend nodded in agreement. “Sure.”

  Seconds later, Beck and Amelia were alone in the apartment. Gesturing toward the sofa, he said, “Please, have a seat.”

  She rounded the sofa and removed her olive suede jacket. After draping it over the back cushion, she straightened her cream-colored lace top over her dark-washed jeans and sat down on the shorter side of the sectional. As she dropped her purse to the floor beside her feet, he took a seat on the longer side and angled his body toward her.

  “I’m sorry for coming over unannounced,” she apologized, “but I wanted to talk to you.”

  “It’s okay.” Leaning back, he propped his ankle on his opposite knee. “What’s up?”

  She took a deep breath and exhaled. “I don’t—”

  Suddenly, the color drained from her face until her freckles looked like little brown blotches. With wide eyes, she glanced at the cocktail table. It was scattered with greasy napkins, dirty paper plates, and leftover pizza.

  Clapping her hand over her mouth, she lurched to her feet and darted toward the bathroom. Even though she slammed the door behind her, he could hear her retching across the room.

  He winced, feeling sorry for her because she was sick and sorry for himself because he’d heard it. He increased the volume on the TV to give her some privacy, and then he cleaned up the cocktail table.

  After tossing the remnants of dinner into the metal trashcan in the kitchen, he searched the pantry for saltine crackers. Finding a box, he dumped several crackers on a plate, grabbed a can of ginger ale from the fridge, and brought everything to the living room.

  He placed the stomach-settling food and drink on the cocktail table before making himself comfortable on the sofa. He focused his gaze on the TV, but the whole time he watched the Cincinnati Bengals run the ball, his mind buzzed about why Amelia was there.

  Seattle had just scored a touchdown after picking off a Bengals pass when Amelia emerged from the bathroom. She was even paler than before, although he’d have thought that was impossible, and her right hand was cupped over her lower stomach.

  Concerned, he immediately muted the TV. “Are you okay, Millie?” he asked, belatedly realizing he’d used Ava Grace’s special nickname for her best friend.

  She collapsed onto the sofa like a marionette whose strings had been cut. “I think so,” she answered faintly, leaning back and closing her eyes.

  “I got you some crackers and ginger ale.”

  “Thank you. That was nice,” she replied without opening her eyes. “Ava Grace said you were more thoughtful than the average guy.”

  Palming the ginger ale, he popped open the top. “Here, take a sip of this.”

  Her eyelids fluttered open, and he passed the can to her. “I haven’t had a chance to tell you, but congratulations on the baby.”

  Her lips tipped up. “Thanks. I still can’t believe it.” She wrinkled her nose. “Except for when I throw up. Then I can believe it. But it could be worse. I’ve only been sick a couple of times.”

  She took a sip of ginger ale, her eyes steady on his over the edge of the can. Uncomfortable under her penetrating gaze, he glanced away. When his eyes landed on the plate of crackers, he picked it up.

  “Cracker?” he offered.

  Amelia took the entire plate. While she nibbled and crunched her way through the pile of crackers, they watched the game. When the half-time show came on, he muted the TV.

  “As much as I love watching football with you,” he said dryly, “I’m assuming you came here for a reason.”

  Scooting forward, she placed the ginger ale and empty plate on the cocktail table. “Did you know Ava Grace and I have been best friends since kindergarten?”

  “Yeah.”

  “One of my clearest childhood memories is Ava Grace putting my hair in a ponytail.” Amelia touched the red curls spiraling over her shoulder. “My hair was matted and tangled worse than a bird’s nest, and Ava Grace spent our entire recess untangling it.”

  He couldn’t help smiling at the vision in his head—two little girls on a playground, one skinny and blond and other one round and redheaded.

  “Ava Grace is more than my best friend. She’s my family. Until I met Quinn, she was all I had. I love her more than I love anybody. Except Quinn, of course.”

  Beck nodded. He felt the same way about Gabe and Ren. They were his family.

  “I’m the one who encouraged Ava Grace to audition for American Star.” Amelia’s rosy lips curved into a teasing smile. “She owes all her success to me.”

  The funny thing was, Ava Grace probably wouldn’t have argued with that statement. More than once, she’d told Beck that she couldn’t have made it to where she was without the support of her best friend.

  Amelia shifted on the sofa and pulled her jean-clad leg underneath her. “Seriously, Ava Grace was my way out of Electra. If not for her, I’d still be stuck there … still waiting tables at the truck stop. She could’ve left me behind, but she didn’t. She let me hitch my star to hers.”

  Looking down at her hands, she twisted her diamond engagement ring around her finger. The stone was massive—more proof her husband was as subtle as a sledgehammer.

  “Everything changed for me when Ava Grace won American Star. I didn’t have to worry about money any more. I got to go places and meet people I’d only read about. If not for her, I never would’ve met Quinn, and I never would’ve had the opportunity to become a designer.”

  “Where is this going, Amelia?” Beck asked, exhausted by the emotional war waging inside him.

  Glancing up, she caught his eyes. “I said everything changed for me when Ava Grace won American Star, and that’s true. But I didn’t like all the changes.”

  She touched his forearm. “I’ve sat in your chair, Beck—the one beside Ava Grace. I know what it’s like to have your life on display just because you’re with her.”

  He swallowed hard, abruptly realizing Amelia was the one person in the world who really understood how he felt. If anyone could help him work through the tangle of his emotions, it was Ava Grace’s best friend.

  Amelia lifted her hand from his forearm. “I remember what it was like before Ava Grace was famous. We could go out to eat without people interrupting our meal.” A smile flitted across her mouth. “Back then, McDonald’s was the only restaurant we could afford though.”

  She leaned forward and nabbed the ginger ale off the cocktail table. “We could go shopping without people stopping us and wanting her to sign autographs and take pictures with them. We could go for a walk in the park without people following us and recording videos.”

  After swallowing a sip of ginger ale, she said, “We can’t do any of that now.”

  “Everything would be easier if she wasn’t famous.”

  “Hmm.” She rose abruptly. “Thanks for the ginger ale and crackers.” She held up the aluminum can. “I’m going to take this with me. I’ll see you around, Beck.”

  He lurched to his feet. “You’re leaving? We were in the middle of a conversation. A very important conversation.”

  “I don’t have anything else to say.” She shrugged. “I was going to try to convince you to get back together with Ava Grace. But I changed my mind.”

  “What? Why?”

  She grabbed her bag from the floor and hooked it over her shoulder before scooping up her jacket. She stomped across his loft with him trailing after her.

>   When she reached the front door, she spun to face him. “Everyone thinks they deserve to know everything about Ava Grace, just because she’s famous. Everyone thinks they deserve a piece of her. But what about her? What does she deserve? I think she deserves to be happy, and you—Jonah Beck—made her happy. Did you know that?”

  She poked her finger in the middle of his chest. “You said ‘everything would be easier if she wasn’t famous.’ Here’s a clue: easier isn’t always better.” She poked him again. “Maybe you should ask yourself if your life is better with Ava Grace or if it’s better without her.”

  As she flung open the front door, she said, “And here’s another clue: Ava Grace is in love with you.”

  Her words crashed into him like a high-speed train. “She is?”

  Amelia ignored him and continued her rant. “Her love—being loved by her—outweighs everything else. You’re an idiot if you give that up.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  Snuggling deeper into the quilt, Ava Grace moved the swing back and forth with the tip of her shoe. Since Beck ended their relationship almost three weeks ago, she’d spent even more time on the porch than usual. It was the only place she could find any relief from her heartbreak—the only place she could find any peace.

  Instead of sitting outside in the cold, she probably should go to bed. It was almost eleven, and she’d had a long, difficult day.

  At noon, Ava Grace held a news conference at the Hermitage Hotel in downtown Nashville. Her publicist had teased the media by promising new details about Ava Grace’s trip to the ER. Unsurprisingly, the hotel ballroom was packed.

  Ava Grace kicked off the news conference by revealing her father was suffering from early on-set Alzheimer’s. She explained that he—not Beck—was responsible for her recent injuries, and she recounted what happened the morning she’d ended up in the ER.

  During the news conference, she announced that she was working with the Alzheimer’s Association. The CEO of the non-profit organization joined her on the dais to talk about the benefit concert Ava Grace would headline early next year to raise money for Alzheimer’s research.

  The news conference ended with an hour-long Q&A session. After that, Ava Grace spent the afternoon doing one-on-one interviews with some of the biggest media outlets in the nation. The last one wrapped up at seven o’clock.

  The squeak of the screen door warned Ava Grace that Kyle was checking on her again. She’d only been out there for half an hour, and he’d already checked on her twice.

  “Kyle,” she sighed. “I’m fine. I don’t want any hot chocolate or chamomile tea. I don’t want another quilt or a bigger pillow. I just want to be alone.”

  When he didn’t respond, she looked toward the door. The clear, round string lights hanging above provided plenty of illumination, but she blinked a few times, sure her eyes were playing tricks on her.

  Beck stood a few feet away, his eyes locked on her. She was so surprised she stopped breathing for a moment. When her lungs started to burn, she took a gasping breath.

  She couldn’t stop her gaze from wandering over him, hungry for the sight of his handsome face and muscular body. A brown leather bomber jacket covered his broad shoulders, and dark-washed jeans encased his long legs, falling over scuffed brown work boots.

  They stared at each other, the chilly night air suddenly heavy and electric. So many emotions buffeted her, she felt like a rowboat in a hurricane.

  “Hi,” he said in a gravelly timbre.

  “Hi.” Her voice was barely a whisper, and she swallowed thickly, trying to lubricate her suddenly-dry throat.

  He moved closer to the swing. “I saw your news conference.”

  She’d hoped he’d see it. But she’d never imagined it would make him jump on a plane.

  “I didn’t see all of it,” he added. “Just a clip during my layover.”

  Confused, she asked, “You were on your way here before you saw the news conference?”

  “Yeah.”

  He glanced around the porch, and his gaze landed on the café table and chairs. Hooking a hand over the back of a chair, he swung it around and placed it in front of her. He sat down with his knees bracketing her quilt-draped legs.

  “Why did you go public with your dad’s illness? I thought you wanted to keep it a secret.”

  Yes, she’d wanted to keep Chuck’s Alzheimer’s private. But not if her silence destroyed Beck and everything he’d worked for.

  “It was the only way I could make things right—the only way I could clear your name.”

  His mouth fell open. “You did it for me?” he asked, surprise making his baritone high and croaky.

  She nodded. “I would’ve done it sooner, but the Alzheimer’s Association wanted to wait until November because it’s National Alzheimer’s Disease Awareness Month.”

  She shrugged, and the worn quilt slipped off her shoulder. “Honestly, I should’ve come forward about it a long time ago. If I had, none of this would’ve happened. Maybe by talking about my experience with Alzheimer’s, I can help someone else who’s struggling.”

  “As a celebrity, you’re in a unique position to shine a light on it.” Beck leaned forward and tugged the quilt back over her shoulder. “I think you could do a lot of good.”

  She barely heard him. He was close enough she could smell him, and she wanted to fill her lungs with his scent.

  He drew back, and they stared at each other for several heartbeats. When she couldn’t stand the silence any longer, she asked, “Why are you here, Jonah?”

  “I wanted to tell you…” He rubbed a hand over his hair before dropping it to his thigh. His fingers were curled in a fist, the knuckles almost white. “My middle name is Trueheart. My dad named me after a Civil War hero.”

  She lifted her eyes from his clenched hand and met his gaze. “You came here to tell me your middle name?”

  “No.” He exhaled roughly. “Shit. All I’ve thought about for the past forty-eight hours was what I was going to say when I saw you, but now I can’t remember a goddamn thing.”

  To her surprise, he leaned forward and caught her hand in his. His fingers were warm and callused as they tangled with hers.

  “I’m sorry.” His voice throbbed with sincerity. “I was wrong.”

  She waited for him to expand on that statement—to explain what he meant—but he didn’t. Instead, he just rubbed his thumb over her knuckles while his dark eyes bored into hers.

  “What were you wrong about?”

  “I said it would be better for everyone if we cut ties between us, but I was wrong. It’s not better for me, and it’s not better for you.”

  Her heart started to pound. “What are you saying?”

  “Amelia came to see me Sunday night—”

  “She did?”

  “Yeah. She said I needed to ask myself if my life is better with you or if it’s better without you. And the moment she said that, I knew the answer—my life is better with you.”

  *****

  Ava Grace’s hazel eyes gleamed brightly under the porch lights. A couple of tears spilled over her lashes, trickling down her cheek, and Beck caught them on his fingers. He felt like crying too, but he didn’t want to turn into a blubbering idiot in front of the woman he loved, not before he’d said all he needed to say.

  So far, the conversation had gone better than anticipated. He’d been afraid she would kick his stupid ass out of her house. He definitely deserved it. But if she’d done that, he’d have come back the next day and the next and the next. He’d do whatever it took to get her back.

  Wrapping his hand around the back of her neck, he dropped his forehead to hers. “My life is better with you,” he repeated.

  With a big sniffle, she turned her face away from his. “You said our lives are like bourbon and olive juice. They just don’t mix.”

  “I know.”

  “Nothing has changed.” Her tears made her voice raspier than usual. “I’m still famous. My dad still has Alzhei
mer’s. We still live in different cities.”

  He placed his palm on his chest. “I’ve changed.”

  “How?” she asked, her expression clearly conveying her skepticism.

  “I finally realized you and I are like bourbon sauce and bread pudding.”

  A surprised laugh floated out of her. “Bourbon sauce and bread budding?”

  “Yes. We’re great together—just like bourbon sauce and bread pudding.”

  “You think we’re great together?”

  “I do.” He nodded emphatically. “And if you still want me, I’m yours.”

  Her luscious mouth curled into a smile. “Oh, I definitely want you.”

  He brushed his knuckles over her wet cheek. “I want you too.” He swallowed hard to dislodge the fear clogging his throat. “I love you.”

  He held his breath, praying Amelia hadn’t been wrong when she said Ava Grace was in love with him.

  Ava Grace closed her eyes. “Say it again.”

  His breath came out in a whoosh. “I love you.”

  “Again,” she whispered, tears glinting on the tips of her long eyelashes.

  Bringing his mouth to hers, he said, “I love you, Ava Grace.”

  She smiled against his lips. “I love you too.”

  With relief winging through him, he kissed her softly. Her tongue darted into his mouth, giving him a tantalizing taste of her before she pulled away.

  She placed her hands over his in her lap. “I can’t promise the media isn’t going to come after you again. Just being with me makes you a target.”

  “I know, and I’m not going to lie—I don’t like being a target. But I’d rather stand in the spotlight with you than sit in the shadows by myself. I want to sleep next to you every night and have a little sugar with my coffee every morning.”

  The smooth skin between her eyebrows furrowed. “Are you talking about moving here permanently? What about Trinity?”

  “I’m not worried about it. I talked with Gabe and Ren, and they can take care of things in San Francisco. When I need to be there, I’ll go back for a day or two.” He smiled. “Chicken is going to love it here … all this room to run and lots of trees to lift a leg on.”