Should've Been You

by Nicole McLaughlin

  “Well, your mind might be open, but I’ll bet your arteries are another matter. You’re no young buck, either. It’s never too early to watch your diet.”

  He chuckled, taking a bite of the strip of meat. Chewing, he stared at it. She’d have to admit it didn’t really look like normal bacon. It was too lean. Too flat. And she had sort of burned it. But it wasn’t awful. He met her gaze.

  She raised her eyebrows but remained quiet.

  “Not bad.” He pointed the strip at her. “You know, if you fried it in bacon fat, I bet it would be downright tasty.”

  Becca rolled her eyes, but she smiled, and then they were laughing. Together. Which was possibly a first in a long while. They’d laughed together in the past, but only when her sister had been present. Hannah and Jase were inseparable growing up. While they were grown now, Becca knew they still spent a lot of time together even though Hannah lived south in Manhattan, closer to her own teaching job. She tried not to wonder if they slept together, talked about the future, or would ever get married. Becca had expected Jase to propose to her sister when he came back from the Middle East a year or two ago, but it still hadn’t happened.

  Her crush on him was one reason Becca had chosen to go away to college even though Kansas State in Manhattan would have given her the degree she needed close to home. Then she’d moved to Kansas City, two hours west, to find a job. She’d wanted to force herself to let her obsession with Jase—and her jealousy of her sister—go. Right now, sitting with him in her childhood kitchen, she wasn’t sure if that had been a successful mission.

  She could still remember when he first moved here. Becca and Hannah had been so excited to see if the new neighbors had any children. They’d staked out the house from the north side of the road, just next to the mailbox, for three afternoons before they’d finally caught sight of Jase. All the chigger bites they’d earned in that overgrown ditch had been worth it.

  He’d been twelve at the time, and Becca’s ten-year-old heart had nearly beaten out of her chest at the first sight of him. Most boys his age were scrawny, but not Jase. He’d been tall and strong, tan and almost menacing looking. He’d caught sight of them in that grass all right. Stared them right down for a long minute, then gone back inside.

  Eventually it was outgoing Hannah who made the proper introduction, and the three of them slowly got to be friends of a sort, even if he was usually quiet. It was always Hannah that made him laugh, although many times he’d chosen to sit by Becca on the bus that first year. She and Hannah had fought about it several times.

  By the time he was fourteen, he’d started to keep his distance from them. Their mother had assured them both it was normal, being he was becoming a young man. It made sense that he would no longer be interested in hanging out with his younger neighbors. He’d started to look like one, too, making Becca and her sister all the more shocked the night they watched their daddy carry his big, limp body into their home on Christmas Eve eighteen years ago. He’d been bloody and bruised.

  It wasn’t that they hadn’t suspected what was going on down the road. By that time, she and Hannah had already eavesdropped on their parents’ late-night whispered conversations about the neighbors. Things weren’t right in the Beckford household. For one, Andy, Jase’s father, was a yeller. Not the normal kind of yelling that parents do. But evil. Cursing, throwing things, pulling out of the driveway in his pickup with such fury that the tires would squeal and gravel would fly. Becca’s father had frequently called Andy a “mean son of a bitch” and she’d never forgotten it.

  Some days when the girls would walk to the corner next to the Beckfords’ house to wait for the school bus, Mrs. Beckford would call out to them. Ask them to inform the bus driver that Jase was sick that day and would not be getting on.

  He’d been sick an awful lot for a boy so strong and healthy looking.

  But that night, on Christmas Eve, it had been different. Her father had come in from the barn, grabbed the shotgun out of his gun safe, and turned to their mother. “If I’m not back here in thirty minutes, call the sheriff.”

  Her mother had just nodded, her eyes glistening. It was as if they’d already prepared for such a moment. All three females had watched out the kitchen window as her father crossed the field to the Beckfords’ house, his silhouette lit by the moon. The minutes had felt like hours, but as soon as they’d seen him carrying a body back with him they’d rushed outside to help. The boy Becca had been so in love with was passed out cold in her father’s arms.

  “Where’s Brenda?” Becca’s mother had asked her husband.

  “She wouldn’t come,” he’d said as he carried Jase up the stairs.

  “Was she okay?”

  “No.”

  Tim Walters’s last word on his way up the stairs had haunted Becca as a child. At the time she couldn’t fathom why a mother would stay behind with an evil man while someone else took away her beaten son. But now as an adult, Becca could somewhat make sense of the horrible situation that Jase had grown up in. His mother had chosen to stand by an abusive husband, but she was just as much a victim as Jase was, even if Becca still couldn’t respect her choices.

  Becca had been so devastated by what had happened to him that Christmas Eve, she’d quietly cried herself to sleep that night in a sleeping bag on Hannah’s floor, wishing she could go lie in her bed with him. The desire to do so had consumed her, but she’d known that her parents would have been upset. Becca still wasn’t one hundred percent sure what had gone down that night, but from that evening on, Jase was like part of their family.

  Watching him now, eating the breakfast she’d made, it was hard to believe he was the same person. He was still handsome as all get-out, of course. Tall, muscular, and so masculine it was ridiculous. For a man who’d suffered abuse as a child, he was incredibly confident, and she credited that somewhat to her own parents who had treated him so well. It also hadn’t hurt that he’d gone on to be popular in high school. Played football, had his share of girls, although it was obvious he was smitten with Hannah. Always had been, probably always would be.

  Becca inhaled and blew out a breath. She was nearly engaged. All that was behind her now. She couldn’t let it bother her that the boy she’d been obsessed with had never seen her as anything but a nuisance, and the other sister.

  He swallowed a big bite of scrambled eggs and then nodded at her. “Why aren’t you eating?” he asked. Before she could answer, he smirked. “Don’t you dare tell me you’re not a fan of turkey bacon.”

  “I like turkey bacon just fine. I’ll eat when Daddy gets back.”

  He nodded. “How have you been? It’s been a while.”

  “It has. Five years, I’d bet.” She knew it was five years because it had been at her mother’s funeral. He’d been in between deployments. And then almost nine years before that, when he’d left for the army not long after graduating high school, breaking her young heart, which had been silly considering he hadn’t even known how she felt about him. She knew he’d been back for a couple of years now, and that her father had leased their land to him to start his cattle operation. She also knew that he and Hannah had continued to stay close, even while he was deployed, exchanging letters, emails, and occasional phone calls.

  All that time Becca had done her best not to think about him, but even her best had never been good enough. She’d seen his occasional posts on Facebook, or Hannah’s. It drove her crazy, to the point she’d almost unfollowed her own sister.

  Jase shook his head. “Crazy that it’s been that long. You staying through Christmas, then?”

  “Yeah, it’s my winter break. I’m off until after the new year. Wanted to spend some time with Dad.”

  “That’s a long time to be off. Feels like yesterday we were sittin’ in this kitchen talking about you being a teacher.”

  “Yes, and you told me it was a stupid idea,” she reminded him.

  Jase just chuckled. “I was a punk. You knew that.”

  “I d
id.”

  “Thankfully you didn’t listen to me, right?”

  “No. I am definitely a teacher. And I am good at it.”

  “Of that I have no doubt. What grade?”

  “Seventh and eighth. American history.”

  “Oh boy,” he said, chuckling and shaking his head.

  “What?” She watched as he took a drink of his coffee to avoid answering her.

  “Nothing.”

  “You can’t act like that and then say nothing. What’s wrong with me teaching American history? I’ve always loved that subject.”

  He nodded. “I know you have. It’s not the subject I find funny, it’s the grade. I was just thinking that if you’d been my middle-school teacher, I would not have been able to focus on . . . the Louisiana Purchase or some such nonsense.”

  Becca scowled. “Some such nonsense?”

  He grinned. “Sorry if that offended you. I’m sure it’s not nonsense. But you get what I’m saying.”

  She was trying not to, but she couldn’t deny the idea that he found her attractive was way too satisfying. “They’re middle-school boys. Not lecherous old men.”

  He gave her a playful glare and then burst out laughing. “All men—no matter their age—can appreciate a beautiful woman. Even teachers are fair game for the spank bank.”

  “Oh God!” she protested loudly. “Why did you have to say that?”

  She wasn’t that naive. She’d been teaching middle school for six years so she’d seen it all, thank you very much. But some things were best left unsaid and unthought-about.

  “You remember Miss Hollins?” he asked, his eyebrows waggling.

  Becca rolled her eyes. “Of course I do. She was the sole reason every guy signed up for jewelry class in high school.”

  “Damn straight. I would have soldered earrings all day for my mother and every woman in the county just to get her to come lean over my shoulder and help me. Thank goodness those face masks shielded your eyes. On a good day, you could practically stare right down her shirt.”

  Becca’s mouth dropped open in shock. “That’s disgusting.”

  Jase shrugged, smirking. “Teenage boys are disgusting.”

  “Well, they’re not all like that. My students are wonderful.” She considered her statement. “Well . . . some of them are, anyway.”

  “I’m sure they are,” he teased.

  They were silent for a moment. Jase took a drink of his coffee, his face going serious. “Listen, Becca. I just recalled where Tim is today. He’d told me, I just forgot.”

  “Where?”

  Jase laid down his mug and blew out a breath. “I probably should keep this to myself and let him tell you, but . . . what the hell. He’s been seeing someone. They like to have breakfast together at Teeny’s on the north side of Manhattan, a few times a month. It slipped my mind that this was one of those days.”

  Becca’s eyes went wide, her heart pounding. “Seeing someone?”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  She quickly tried to process that idea, but the lump in her throat made it a little difficult. “I can’t believe this.”

  “Listen, it was tough for me, too. I loved your mom . . . hell, like she was my own. You know that. But I also love Tim, and . . . well, nobody should grow old alone.”

  Well yeah, most people shouldn’t. But this was her father, and he’d only been a widower for five years. He was the kind of man who brought his wife wildflowers from the field, chased her through the house laughing, and French-kissed her in front of his children until she pinched him on the butt to make him stop. That kind of love was once in a lifetime. Wasn’t it?

  Becca bit her lip, which had traitorously started to wobble. And who the hell was this woman he was supposedly seeing? It wasn’t like this was a big city, for God’s sake.

  “Why didn’t Hannah tell me?” she whispered. But she knew the answer. She and her sister didn’t talk much these days. If at all.

  Jase shrugged. “Hannah’s been doing her own thing lately.”

  Becca was considering asking him to clarify exactly what that cryptic statement meant when they heard a car pull into the drive. Shooting up from her seat, Becca glanced out the window that looked out onto the side of the house to find her father parking the Buick in front of the garage.

  “He’s alone,” she said as she watched him get out of the car. She let the curtains fall shut. The same curtains her mother had purchased at JCPenney on the day Becca had gotten her braces. They’d gone to the mall to get ice cream, and her mother could never pass up a home sale. Everything in this house held a piece of her mother. Everything.

  “Of course he’s alone. He’s not going to bring her here until he tells you,” Jase said as he got up from the table. She couldn’t help noticing the way his butt looked in his fitted jeans as he walked to the sink and rinsed his plate. For a moment, the perfect sight of his thick thighs and cowboy boots made her lose track of her words.

  “Has he brought her here before?” Becca asked, suddenly heartsick at the idea of another woman in her mother’s home.

  Drying his hands, Jase turned around to face her, his expression full of pity. “I don’t know, Becca. That’s the truth. And it makes me sad, too. But . . . don’t be too hard on him. He’s been real happy lately.”

  Had he seemed more happy than usual last night when she’d gotten here? She felt bad for not noticing. The back door creaked open and her father stepped in with a wide grin.

  “Mornin’. Two of my favorite people here to greet me.” He sniffed the air. “You make breakfast, Becca? I’m sorry. I figured you’d sleep through the morning after coming in so late last night.”

  “It’s okay, Dad. Jase ate your share,” she said, watching him hang his hat and coat on the peg rack beside the door. “Where were you off to so early?”

  She noticed his body hesitate as he made his way over to the coffeepot. Just then Jase pushed off the counter and set his own mug down. “Hey, I’m gonna get out of your hair so you two can catch up.”

  Traitor. Becca scowled at Jase, who made his way over to her, locked a strong hand around her neck, and then leaned down to kiss her on the forehead. “Thanks for breakfast, Beck.” He gave her a sharp gaze before turning to the door. It was a warning. A reminder, to be kind and understanding to her father. But now all she could think of was the feel of his soft lips on her skin. Because never, ever, had Jase Beckford kissed her in any way before.

  TWO

  Damn. Becca had smelled as good as she looked. Not really a surprise, Jase thought as he headed down the snow-packed gravel road to his mother’s house. The field that connected their homes was a more direct route, but at this time of year the snow was too deep. He’d end up with it inside his jeans.

  Plus, he didn’t mind a little more time to cool down after that surprise encounter. He hadn’t really intended to lean down and kiss Becca, but he’d wanted a good excuse to get close. That, and he couldn’t help himself. Sitting at the table watching her, all he’d been able to think about was how long it had been since he’d seen her. Thought about her. And of course, how gorgeous she was.

  Becca had always been a beauty, and he’d always noticed. He could very clearly recall the summer before he’d enlisted, when she’d appeared at the city pool in a new polka-dot bikini. At the time he worked across the street at the Petro station and would take his break when she and Hannah would get there, just so he could check her out behind his sunglasses. Hell, every man in the vicinity—young and old—had been mesmerized. And she’d only been sixteen. Now at nearly thirty she was just as lovely.

  Hannah and Becca looked a lot alike, but they were fraternal twins. Where Hannah was taller, with a slightly more athletic build and dark-brown hair, Becca was curvy and soft with long legs and light sun-streaked hair. Both girls had been pretty, but for some reason Becca had always been the one the guys talked about the most. Probably because she’d never shown them any interest, whereas Hannah had teased and flirted with every
one. Guys were stupid that way, always secretly pining for what they couldn’t have. And Becca’s aloof demeanor had only reinforced what he already knew—she was a bit stuck up.

  She’d been pleasant this morning, but they were grown now. No reason to be petty or immature about anything, and it really didn’t matter what she thought about him these days. Jase was confident in the man he was. Proud of his time in the army and now the National Guard, and proud of the business he was currently building. That was really all that mattered.

  As he always did after spending time at the Walters house, Jase noticed the stark difference when he stepped through his mother’s front door. She preferred it dark. Curtains drawn, lights dimmed, depressing. She got headaches frequently and usually slept late. He was grateful to find she was still in bed.

  Jase felt sorry for his mother—to a point—but he also held a lot of resentment inside toward the woman who’d never taken them out of a horrible situation. He knew his father had broken her. Manipulated her. But it was hard to believe that her concern for her only child hadn’t been enough to motivate her to run. Instead they’d learned to hide. Lie. Cover up.

  Jase quietly moved through the house, into the kitchen, and then out onto the back porch where he’d set up a room for himself. He’d moved back to his childhood home for two reasons: for convenience, and to save money while he got his business going. There was nothing easier than walking out your front door to get to work. But although it was the home he’d grown up in, he’d been unwilling to move back into to his old bedroom upstairs. Too many bad memories, plus it felt too strange to be a wall away from his mother. The back sunporch had always been his refuge, anyway, so it seemed a natural choice to turn it into a makeshift home for himself.

  The windows were glassed in, not just screened, so that helped with the winter cold. He’d also installed a vintage wood-burning stove he’d picked up at an estate sale. It had been easy enough to vent it out the side wall, creating quite a cozy little space. He still had to go upstairs to shower, but that wasn’t so bad. And although his mother had never had any interest in coming out here over the past few years, he’d installed an additional lock on the door leading from the house, assuring himself privacy when he was home.