Page 10 of Morning Wood

“What about you? Did I hear you correctly when you said you had a foster–”

“About the house,” I say, cutting him off. “There’s the obvious repairs like the porch, windows, and siding. But what I’m really worried about is all the stuff I can’t see.”

Beck narrows his eyes at me, knowing I’m changing the subject on purpose. “One day you’ll trust me with your past,” he says softly. “Until then, I’m just happy to be here with you in the present.”

God. Swoon.

Beck follows me around the house, pointing out problem areas and taking notes. He seems to know every electrician, plumber, and construction company in town, which I suppose makes sense.

We end the tour upstairs, right outside of the room I’ve been staying in. I pause in the doorway, not sure what to do next. Beck looks behind me to the bed, then focuses back on my face.

“Why didn’t you take the master bedroom?” he asks, surprising me.

“Oh. I…” Pausing, I tilt my head to the side, considering his question. “I guess I didn’t even think about it. I would never have even been allowed inside that room if this were one of my foster homes. I guess I was just happy to have a room of my own after years of sharing.”

Beck takes my hand, lacing our fingers together. “Do you want to talk about that?” he asks.

“Not really,” I answer truthfully, causing Beck to chuckle. “Besides, I haven’t had a chance to clean the couches or chairs, so the only place to sit and chat is my bed.” Beck doesn’t say anything, but as soon as the words are out of my mouth, I realize I want Beck in my bed. At least, I want to sit next to him and maybe cuddle. I’ve never done that before.

Without another word, I turn and walk inside the room, tugging Beck along by our clasped hands. I sit on the bed and pat the seat next to me. Beck joins me, though he's a bit stilted and rigid like he's not sure what to do.

“I was thinking…” I start, looking down at my hands. Beck covers both of them with one of his large hands. “Maybe you could just… hold me?” I hold my breath and close my eyes, wanting to crawl under the bed and hide when he doesn’t say anything. “Never mind. It was stupid of me to ask.”

I peek one eye open when I hear him readjust himself on the bed. Beck rests against the headboard, then he lifts his arm, letting me know it’s okay to cuddle up. I waste no time crawling over to him and leaning my head against his shoulder. Beck tucks me against his side and strokes my neck and back in the most calming gesture.

“I could stay here all night,” he whispers. “I’ll hold you whenever you want. You never have to be embarrassed around me. Especially about this.” He squeezes me tighter, then leans over and kisses the top of my head.

I didn’t realize how tired I was until I wake up with a start.

“It’s okay, I’m right here,” Beck says, his voice washing over me and making me feel safe and seen.

I drift off to sleep, but before long, old memories come crawling out of the dark corners of my mind. Drunken fights between foster parents, being bullied by the other kids for being fat, the sharp sting of one of my foster dad’s belts as it snapped across my back and thighs, and finally… darkness. The kind of endless, suffocating darkness that drives people mad. For me, the darkness brings me back to the closet I was locked in for three days when I was seven.

“Wake up, sweetheart,” someone says, their voice sounding far away. “It’s just a dream. A bad dream.”

I try blinking, moving, breathing, anything to move closer to the voice. The more I struggle, the deeper I fall into the darkness, like quicksand.

“Beatrix, wake up. Come back to me. You’re safe now.”

I want so desperately to believe him as I claw my way out of the depths.

“I’m here,” he says again. “I’m Beck. I’m going to protect you from everything, sweetheart. From this day forward.”

Beck. Conjuring up his image is enough for me to break free of the nightmare trying to pull me under once again.

I gasp for air, my eyes flying open as I sit up in bed.

“You’re safe now,” Beck whispers, tucking a few strands of my hair behind my ear.

“I’m s-s-sorry,” I stutter out.

“Shh, baby, don’t apologize. You don’t have to talk about it. Just know I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

I snuggle back down into his embrace, my back to his front so he’s spooning me from behind. I almost doze off a few times, but I’m jerked awake by a bad memory or a sinking feeling that I’m in trouble and someone is out to get me.

After the fifth or sixth time of waking up and waking Beck up, I sigh and apologize again. “I’m keeping you up. You can go home. I promise I’m fine.”

“No way in hell am I leaving you,” comes his immediate response. I won’t lie, I love his protective side. “If you want, though,” he continues, his voice dropping an octave as he whispers in my ear, “I can distract you.”

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