Page 78 of Redemption

When we got out of the water—which was way too cold, thank you very much—Beckett went straight to work warming me up again. Afterward, he told me to get dressed because he had another surprise for me in the gazebo. Beckett reaches for something in the corner, but it’s too dark for me to see until he switches on a small battery-powered lantern.

“Have a seat, Pres.” He takes the spot to my right, holding an acoustic guitar.

“You still play?”

Beckett nods. “Not as much as I used to, but I’m not too rusty.”

I sit up, excited to hear him play again. “Play something that makes you think of us.”

He thinks about it for a moment before taking the pick out of the strings and positioning the guitar on his lap just right. I smile when I hear the opening notes to one of my favorite Dierks Bentley songs. This tune was released years after I left, so there’s no way Beck could’ve known how much I love it. Sebastian hates everything country, so I could never listen to my favorite music around him. Thankfully, he wasn’t around a lot, so I didn’t have to give it up entirely while I was in New York.

When Beckett starts singing the first verse, the breath whooshes out of me. Beck’s voice sounds almost identical to the original artist. They have that same deep, raspy tone that makes all your girly parts take notice. Dierks is my absolute favorite country artist because of that sexy, gritty voice. Now I have to wonder if that’s no coincidence. Like maybe my subconscious recognized the similarities, even if it wasn’t obvious on the surface. Huh. Funny how that works, isn’t it? Beckett bumps his shoulder to mine when he gets to the verse about being mean enough to stare the girl’s demons down. He looks right at me as he sings about hard times putting the shine into diamonds. God, this song could have been written about us. I love it even more now.

When he strums the final note, I practically jump on top of him and press my lips against his. One kiss quickly escalates, and before I know it, Beckett is inside of me again, masterfully playing my body like he just played that guitar.

Damn swoony bastard.

Chapter Forty-One

Presley

A light breeze blows as I approach Mr. Armstrong’s grave, whipping my long hair into my face. I’ve meant to get here sooner, but his son has been keeping me busy. These last few weeks with Beckett have been amazing. We spend every possible moment together when we’re not working, and sometimes Beck will even hang out at the bar when I’m behind the counter slinging drinks. We’re not outwardly flaunting our relationship around town, but we’re also not hiding it. I’ve accepted that people will think what they’re going to think, and there’s nothing we can do about it.

We may not know all the details about each other’s lives while we were apart, but my brother was right when he said Beck and I are still the same where it counts. The events during those twelve years may have shaped us into more guarded, cautious people, but that inexplicable bond we formed at an early age is stronger than it’s ever been. Everything with Beck is just so easy. Natural. Comfortable, but not in the boring sense.

Our connection isn’t the only thing that’s stronger. Our need for one another is at a fever pitch. Maybe we’re subconsciously making up for lost time, but we can barely keep our hands off each other. In the month since Beck and I reconnected physically, he’s never failed to take my body to new heights. Sometimes we make slow, passionate love. Other times, we’re mindless and frenzied like animals. But whether he takes me soft or hard, I never once doubted my own safety or his love for me. I enjoy exploring my limits and curiosities with him, and his patience with me in that regard is extraordinary.

“Hey, Mr. Armstrong. I’m sorry for not coming sooner.” I lower myself to my knees and run my fingers over his headstone, clearing some dirt away from the letters engraved into it. “I don’t know if you’re watching over Beckett or not, but just in case, I’ll bring you up to speed. We’re together again, and I’d like to think it’s for good this time. You see, Sebastian, the man I married in New York, turned out to be a horrible person. He hurt me... many, many times until I finally had the strength to leave. Beckett’s been so patient and understanding about the whole thing. He’s showing me every day that good people do exist and that I deserve their kindness. I don’t know how I survived so many years without him. Truth is, that’s all I was doing. Surviving, I mean.

“Your son reminds me why life is worth livin’. I’m hopeful about the future for the first time in a long time. I feel loved and accepted for who I truly am, not who someone wants me to be. I wish you could be here to witness all the good he’s doing. As you know, Beck also had his share of awfulness in his life, but he’s taking that experience, and he’s doing something productive with it. Something that will help others who’ve been in similar situations. I don’t know why I was granted this second chance with him, but I promise you, I will never make your son regret it. I will love him with my whole heart and soul.

“He asked if I wanted to teach riding lessons again. I haven’t started yet. I’m still gettin’ to know the new horses, learning their temperaments, and stuff. But it feels right, you know? It feels like this is what I should’ve been doing all along. I think somehow, Beckett knew that. You probably remember, but we were always so freakishly attuned to one another, and that hasn’t changed one bit. I hate that you’re gone, but I love seeing him taking charge of everything like you used to. My father still refuses to retire completely—the stubborn goat he is—but I think he’s getting closer to that point now that he knows the ranch is in such good hands. You know, maybe one day Beck and I will be running the place together.

“Clayton still helps out here and there, but he has no desire to dedicate that much time to it. Mama says since he bought the bar, he’s really been focusing on that, and she can’t fault him for it because it makes him happy. God, listen to me, just rambling on. I’m making up for lost time, I guess. I’m sorry I didn’t know about your passing until recently. I’m sorry I didn’t get to see you again before you left us. But I meant what I said earlier. You can rest in peace, knowing Beckett is wholly loved and appreciated like he should be. I won’t let you down.”

I take a few moments of silence, my skin warming under the unseasonably warm temperatures. Southern Georgia usually has mild weather in the winter and fall, but almost ninety degrees at the end of October is a bit much. Maybe I got used to the colder temps up north, and I’m just not as tolerant as I used to be. Right before I get ready to say my goodbye, the hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention. I can’t shake the feeling that I’m being watched, so I look around the cemetery to see if anyone is there. Sure enough, leaning with his booted foot propped against an old Spanish moss, Beckett is watching me have a one-sided conversation with his father. With a blush staining my cheeks, I stand up, brushing the grass away from my knees. Since it’s so warm, I went with a pair of cut-offs and a tank top today. It shows a lot more skin than I’m used to these days, but by the way Beckett’s eyes darken as he watches my approach, I’d say he approves.

“Hey, you.”

He kicks off from the tree and pulls me into a hug. He doesn’t say anything for a good minute; he just holds me and nuzzles his nose into my neck. “Hey. How long have you been here?”

“Twenty minutes, maybe. How long have you been here?”

“Just a few.”

I look over toward the parking lot, wondering why I didn’t hear the familiar roar of his truck engine as he drove up. “Where’s your truck?”

“Parked along the road.” Beck jerks his head toward the gates. “I was making a supply run, so I have the trailer hooked up to it.”

Ah, that explains it. This is a fairly large cemetery, but the parking lot is tiny—it only has ten spots in two rows of five. There’s no way Beck’s truck would’ve had room to maneuver with a trailer hitched to it.

“I’m guessing you came here to visit your dad?”

Beck nods. “Yeah. It’s been a while.”

I shift on my feet. “Well, I won’t keep you. I have to get back anyway because I’m working with Clay tonight. I’ll see you later?”

He wraps his strong arms around me again and kisses my cheek. “Thanks for comin’ here, Pres. It means a lot.”

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