Elouise
My eyes blink open,and I snuggle further into Beckett’s side, soaking in more of his steady strength.
Beckett held me up. All night.
After saving my life, he brought me back here. Stripping the clothes from my numbing body, he helped me into the shower, following me in and washing every inch of my skin. Then we stood together under the hot stream of water, and he held me while I cried. And cried.
And when the cops showed up, he held my hand while I retold every detail. From the flowers, to the car that was apparently moved, to the things Mr. Olson shouted before I ultimately ended his life.
Beckett got furious when I worded it like that. Claiming Mr. Olson killed himself with his actions, and I saved myself with mine.
He’s right. I know he’s right.
Then when the cops finally left, Beckett carried me all the way up to bed. I wasn’t sure he’d be able to do it – I’m not light and it was a whole flight of stairs – but when I told him I could walk, he told me to stop talking.
I smile against his side and inhale his scent, letting it calm me further.
Last night was truly awful. The absolute worst. But if it had to happen, there’s no one I’d rather have at my side. Not last night. Not right now. Not tomorrow.
The thought of him leaving, of Beckett eventually buying his own house and starting to sleep there, makes my shoulders tense with worry.
“What’s wrong?” Beckett’s voice rumbles against my ear, and he sounds like he’s been awake for a while.
I tip my head back so I can look up at him, “I don’t want you to leave.”
His brows knit together and the arm around my back tightens, “I’m not going anywhere.”
“I know. I…” my fingers trace a pattern on his chest and his free hand closes over mine, pressing my palm flat over his heart.
“What is it?”
I consider backtracking but then decide just to ask it. Life is too short. “Will you move in? With me?” His eyes hold mine. “Here?”
The side of his mouth pulls up, a hint of a smile, “You sure you’re okay with that?”
I nod.
“Good. Because I was already planning on it.”
My own lips form the smallest smile, the first I’ve felt since before everything went to hell last night. “Well, that was easier that I thought.”
“Being with you is the easiest thing I’ve ever done.”
My heart swells, “I love you so much.”
That cocky smile is back, “Good,” he repeats, and I roll my eyes. “Now it’s time to get up.”
“What? Why?” I groan, knowing I don’t have to go to work.
Someone got ahold of the principal last night, and they’ve canceled all the classes at Darling Elementary today. Giving everyone a long weekend to decide how we’re all going to deal with Mr. Olson’s death.
Through some sort of phone call chain, the principal called Beckett’s phone – when the cops were still here asking questions – to make sure I was okay. And when Beckett got off the call, he informed me I’d be off the entirety of next week too. Some sort of paid leave that I didn’t really want to take, but I think he needs the time together as much as I do.
Plus, I’ll use that time to start therapy. It doesn’t take a genius to know that I’m going to need it after all of this.
“I have to go get a few things,” is the reason Beckett gives me.
At his obvious vagueness I narrow my eyes, “What sort of things? And why do I need to be out of bed for it?”