Page 11 of Claiming Becca

Three Years Ago

Singing along to the song blasting from my car radio, I pull out of the gym parking lot and head toward the restaurant where I’m meeting Bass and Connor. The wind blows through my hair as I take in a deep breath. This past year, there has been a drastic change. After James Foster won the election last year to be Sheriff, everyone expected a reaction from Donovan. But nothing happened. He all but disappeared, and we have no idea why.

Connor has tried to get Julian to do some digging. After Julian’s partner died at the hands of the serial killer they were hunting, Julian hasn’t been the same. He’s been talking about moving back home, but Connor isn’t sure if he will. It seems, lately, Connor has been more concerned about Victor Valentine.

It’s almost like they compete with each other, but Connor swears that’s not why he doesn’t like Victor. He says it’s because he doesn’t trust Victor and doesn’t think his motives are pure. He’s still convinced Victor is also remodeling old houses and buildings because it’s some cover-up.

It’s a sensitive topic, so I try to be supportive and listen when Connor gets on his soapbox about it. Turning onto the street that will take me to the restaurant, my thoughts turn toward Bass. It took a lot of convincing to get him to meet us. He’s going through a nasty breakup with his ex-fiance Angela. We want him to snap out of the destructive path he’s on right now. So, we talked him into going out with us as an intervention. We will buy him dinner and try to get him back to work. He hasn’t been at the gym in almost three weeks.

Walking into the restaurant, I push my sunglasses on top of my head and search for them. Connor smiles and waves at me from the booth they’re sitting in. I return his smile and walk over, scooting in next to Bass. Connor’s smile drops a little as he sits back in the booth.

The lines between him and me are blurring, and I’m trying my best to convince myself that he’s just my friend, and that’s all he’ll ever be. He has never shown interest in me. Why would he? I’m twenty; he’s twenty-six. His construction company is becoming the most sought-after in this town while I’m still trying to figure out what I want to do with my life. I glance at Bass. He looks rough. His beard and mustache are overgrown, his hair isn’t combed, and his shirt is wrinkled. It’s weird seeing him like this; he’s usually so put together. I wrap my arms around his bicep and hug him. He gives me an unconvincing smile.

“Hey, Bass.” My voice is soft as I share a look with Connor. He gives a slight shake of his head.

“I know you two brought me here to talk to me,” Bass mumbles scratching his beard. He puts his head in his hands.

“I can’t believe they did that to me,” he murmurs, talking about Angela and his almost business partner. I wrap my arm around him, trying to provide as much comfort as possible. I knew Angela was bad news, but I didn’t suspect she and Bass’ almost business partner were sleeping together.

“I know, man.” Connor sighs and shares another look with me. “But you have to snap out of this. Don’t let them win by running your business into the ground,” Connor tells him. The server comes up, and we all order what we usually get here.

Bass leans back in his seat and inhales deeply. “You’re right. I think I’m still trying to process it. How could she plan a life with me and then do that?” He shakes his head and glances down at himself.“I look like shit,” he states. Connor and I chuckle. Bass glares at us, but gives a slight grin. “Alright, I’m not saying I’ll get completely back to normal, but I know I need to try.” Our server shows up with our food.

“First things first, eat something,” Connor tells him. We all dig in, and I breathe a sigh of relief at seeing Bass act a little more like himself. After eating, Connor leans back and glances between Bass and me.

“So, Bass, I’m considering stealing Becca from you,” he states. My eyes narrow at him. Bass looks between Connor and me.

“What do you mean?” he asks.

“I want her to come to do interior decorating for houses we want to show during an open house,” Connor replies. I swallow and begin to tear my napkin into small pieces.

“I didn’t realize you wanted to do that,” Bass tells me.

“I don’t.” I keep my eyes down and refuse to look at Connor. I can’t work with him. I can’t. Connor reaches across the table and runs his finger over my hand.

“Come on, Shortcake. You helped me out a lot with that house last week. You did so great,” he encourages.

I swallow and look up at him, shrugging. “Just because it’s something I’m good at doesn’t mean I want to do it.” The words taste bitter coming out of my mouth.

Decorating homes for a living would be a dream come true. I didn’t realize I was good at it until Connor asked for my help. Not having a real home growing up makes it fun and satisfying to take a house and turn it into a home. But spending that much time with Connor was hard. It’s not something I could do every single day and not fall even harder.

Connor sighs. “Alright, if you change your mind, I’ll always have a job opening for you,” Connor says with disappointment. Bass puts his arm around my shoulder and squeezes me.

“You’ll always be welcome at the gym; you’ve been a huge help these past few weeks. But you deserve to chase after your dreams, too, Bec. If this is a dream of yours, I’ll support you.” I give Bass a small smile.

“Thanks.” I slide out of the booth and give them both a small wave. Pulling my wallet out, I drop some money on the table. “That’s to pay for my food.”

Connor picks it up and hands it back to me. “I’ll get it, Shortcake.”

Sighing, I take it back. There’s no use in arguing with him. I’ve tried in the past, but he always wins. “Thanks. I’m going to visit my grandpa. I’ll see you two later.” I turn quickly and walk out. Neither tries to stop me, and I’m thankful for that.

My grandpa lives in an assisted living home. He has dementia, and it’s steadily getting worse. Sometimes he remembers me, and sometimes he doesn’t. Hopefully, today will be a good day. Signing in at the front desk, the nurse walks me to his room.

“He’s doing well today. He’s grumpy, but…” She trails off.

Chuckling, I glance at her. “So, his usual self, then?” She nods as we stop in front of his room.

Walking in, I wait for him to notice me as he finishes setting up the checkerboard.

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