But…My lungs fight to inflate. But I was wrong. Because if what he’s saying is true… Oh my god… that means that same moment meant something to him too.
Beckett’s hands move to my shoulders, dragging his palms down my arms as he lowers himself into a crouch.
Beckett’s gaze holds mine, his tone softening, “Seeing you sprawled on the blacktop that day… it broke something inside of me. Or maybe it fixed it.” His fingers squeeze mine. “I was always aware of you after that. Every time I saw you, or heard your name, or thought of you, a feeling of protectiveness would overcome me. It wasn’t like it is now. It wasn’t filled with this need. You were just a kid back then.” His chest expands. “But you aren’t a kid now.”
The air between us fills with a tension I can feel. Past and present colliding and forming something new.
How is this possible?
“You…” I trail off. Not sure what to say after that.
The corner of his mouth twitches but he doesn’t attempt to fill the silence. He just lets me take in the meaning of his words.
We’re still staring at each other when my phone starts to ring, and I make no move to answer it.
When it continues to ring, Beckett reaches into my sweatshirt pocket and pulls out my phone. “Answer it.” He punctuates his statement by flipping my hand over and setting it in my palm.
“Beckett-”
“Better yet,” he cuts me off then taps the screen, “Maddie?”
There’s a pause on the other end of the line before my friend’s voice sounds over speakerphone. “Um, yes?”
“Are you at home or at BeanBag?”
“I’m at the shop. Is everything okay? Where’s Elouise?” She sounds curious but not too alarmed.
“Everything’s fine. Elouise is gonna come hang out for a bit.”
“Beck-”
He cuts me off again, while he hangs up on Maddie. “Go. I need to wrap up here, and if you stay, you’ll just distract me.”
Rather than arguing, I let him help me up.
He’s right. Not that I care about the front porch. It’s more that if I stay, I’ll end up tearing his clothes off in about, oh, five minutes. And what I really need is time to process the emotional bomb he just dropped on my childhood.
Beckett presses his lips to my forehead then turns back towards his tools.