“I’m here. I’m breathing. I’m happy. He didn’t win. And even the worst things that happen to us can give us a gift. I like that I see what others might miss.”
His gaze cut to mine, eyes blazing. “It’s too high a price.”
“It’s life, Beckett. We don’t have control over what happens to us, only how we react to it.”
“I manage to fuck that up, too.” He ran a hand through his hair as he sank down onto a stool.
I had the sudden urge to pull him to me, to give him some of the comfort he’d brought me earlier in the day. Instead of resisting, I went with it. I moved before I could second-guess myself. I stepped between Beckett’s legs and wrapped my arms around him.
Beckett dropped his head to my shoulder, his arms encircling my waist. I swore I felt him almost inhale me. My heart rattled against my ribs, but I stayed firm, my arms holding him close. “Will you tell me what happened?”
“I tried to talk to Shiloh.”
“Okay.” I knew Shy tended to take off when conversations got uncomfortable, and I didn’t blame her, given everything she’d been through. There were times I wished I had the guts to do the same.
“There’s so much hurt there. For all of us, but especially for her. I want to fix it so badly but—”
“You can’t,” I finished for him.
He nodded against my shoulder. “I realized that today. I thought I could come back here and make everything better.”
My hands tightened on his muscular shoulders. “Beckett…”
“I know. It was dumb. But I thought if I could fix it, then maybe I could forgive myself.”
My heart broke for the man who was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. “Or you could have grace for the boy who was scared out of his mind and did the best he could with what he had.”
“You sound like Hayes.”
I smiled against his hair. “I’ll take that as a compliment. Hayes is pretty wise.”
Beckett lifted his head, and my breath hitched. We were so close. His lips were mere inches from mine. It would take almost nothing to close the distance. To know what they felt like. Tasted like.
Beckett’s hands tightened on my waist. “I wish I could do a million things differently.”
“So do I.”
“Like what?”
“I wish I would’ve been brave enough to leave. To report my father.” I fought the urge to look away, but I didn’t want to hide this piece of me from Beckett anymore. “I’m ashamed that I stayed for as long as I did. Sometimes, I believe what my father used to say about me.”
Flame licked around Beckett’s irises. “What did he say?”
“That I must’ve liked the punishments.”
The only sound was that of Beckett’s ragged breathing. “Please tell me you know that is complete bullshit.”
I traced the line of the shirt seam across Beckett’s shoulders. “Sometimes, I know that. Sometimes, I don’t.” I couldn’t explain it any other way than to say that, occasionally, in the darkest of times, my father’s words caught hold, festered, and grew. Other times, I was strong enough to fight them back.
Beckett’s hands moved to frame my face. The rough pads of his thumbs swept across my cheeks. “Any time you start to believe those lies, you come to me. I’ll tell you the truth.”
I swallowed against the burn in my throat. “Okay.” I dipped my head so that we were eye-to-eye. “Anytime you start taking on the weight of the world, you come to me. I’ll remind you to set it down.”
His mouth curved. “Sounds like a pretty good deal to me.”
“Me, too.” My stomach rumbled, and Beckett laughed.
“Let’s get some food in you.”