He worked his jaw back and forth. “Sometimes, it feels like they’ll never end.”
“I’m sorry you and your family went through it.”
“Me, too. I’m even sorrier about how I dealt with it.”
“How did you deal with it?”
Beckett pushed a hand through his damp hair. “I ran.”
The two words were stated in a matter-of-fact tone, but I could sense something more beneath them. Regret. Shame. “I know what it’s like to wish you’d taken a different road.”
His gaze met mine, burning through me. “Yeah?”
“I should’ve left my father’s house the second I turned eighteen.”
“That’s different—”
I cut Beckett off with a shake of my head. “It’s not. We leave a million what-ifs and what-might’ve-beens in our wake. The only thing we can do is try to learn from them.”
He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “That’s what I’m trying to do. To be there for my family how I always should’ve been.”
“That’s all you can do. But it doesn’t all rest on your shoulders, either.”
“You going to take your own advice?”
I straightened in my chair. “What do you mean?”
“You take a lot on yourself. It doesn’t take a genius to know that you’re not crazy about accepting help.”
“I’ve taken more help in the past year than I have in my entire life,” I snapped. “More than I’ll ever be able to repay.”
“Addie, I didn’t—”
It was too much. I felt the weight of everything I’d been given these last months. The guilt that I’d never be able to balance the scales. “It’s not your fault. I shouldn’t have bitten your head off.”
“Biting my head off is honest. I’ll take that over guarded words and half-truths any day.”
Beckett’s blue eyes blazed as he spoke, pinning me to the spot.
“I haven’t been completely honest with anyone in a very long time.”
At one time, Everly and I’d had that. But her leaving had broken that bond, and we hadn’t seemed to be able to find our way back.
Beckett’s expression softened a fraction. “How about this? You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. Just say ‘next’ or something like that. But don’t lie.”
I was quiet for a moment. “Are you sure you don’t want another code word like purple elephant?”
He barked out a laugh. “Are you insulting my taste in code words?”
I brought a hand to my chest in mock-affront. “Me? Never.” I dropped my hand back to my napkin, picking at the seam. “I find I’m growing partial to purple elephants lately—and the people who are willing to employ them.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” Beckett ducked his head so our eyes met. “I’m here if you ever want to talk.”
“Thanks.” The single word came out hoarsely as if it could barely escape my throat. Because if there was one thing I didn’t want rolling around in Beckett’s head, it was my messed-up history.
8
BECKETT