Page 52 of Beck and Call

"Can you even believe me if I say I will?" he asked wearily.

I opened my mouth, then closed it after I realized what I was going to say.

"You need time?" he guessed.

I nodded and held my breath. We were on the precipice of something, but I wasn't sure what. It was times like this that the fifteen years between us felt more like a massive peak I'd never be able to scale. This moment would change us; it washowthat was undetermined.

He sat leaning forward, his arms resting on his legs, hands clasped between his splayed knees, and his head hung down. Until this moment he always seemed to be in control. Beckett ruled over every aspect of his life with an iron will, but it hadn't occurred to me how much it took out of him to hold on so tightly.

His head tilted back, allowing me to stare into his brilliant blue eyes. "Is it time alone, or time just to get to know each other?" His voice was soft and rang of defeat.

This was it, the moment that would change everything. If I told him I needed time alone, I had no doubt I'd have it for the rest of my life. He might not like it, but I believed he would let me walk away from him if it was what I truly wanted. If I told him I wanted time for us to get to know each other better, I had better be ready to be open to him.

I didn't have to do much thinking to know what I wanted. Seeing him hurting made me ache. I kneeled in front of him, and he took my face in his large hands.

"I want to get to know you. Being apart won't help with that."

Keeping his hands framed around my face he slid off the sofa and kneeled in front of me. Slowly, he brought his lips to mine. All the other times we kissed were passion and fire. This was reverent and grateful. We savored each other this time, settling on having time to enjoy being together.

Before seeing him this way, I thought he was fine with or without me. After tonight, there was one thing I was certain, Beckett loved me. I wouldn't assume he'd allow himself to acknowledge his feelings, but perhaps I had more sway over him than I'd realized. And if I did, one thing was for certain, I'd work for the rest of my life to keep that look of desolation from ever coming back to him.

"You offered me a quiet night in. I'd like to know what that means," I said, lightening the mood. I desperately wanted to see him smile.

He stood and offered me his hand. "The world is available to you. It doesn't have to be a night in. I can have reservations at the best restaurant within the hour. We can go dancing. Anything you want."

I let him help me up and stepped into his arms. He didn't hesitate to wrap them around me and hold me to his chest. "Anything I want?"

"Nothing is off limits," he promised.

"Take-out and a movie?"

"Really?" His brow furrowed and he appeared to be trying to figure me out.

I nodded. "I don't want to share you. Not tonight."

Finally, the corner of his mouth curved up, slightly, but it was an improvement. "I never want to share you."

He grabbed his phone off the end table. "What are you in the mood for? Chinese? Indian?"

The thought of curry or even shrimp fried rice, which I normally loved, made me want to gag. "Maybe pizza."

"Are you sure you're okay? Let's work from here tomorrow. And by that I mean, I'll work from here and you rest. You're still pale from this weekend."

"I'm okay. Just some lingering effects. I'll be fine. Just to be safe, can you get a cheese pizza?"

He handed me the remote. "Choose a movie for us and I'll order the pizza."

I flipped through a few of his on-demand channels. Nothing new appealed to me. I found an old movie my mom loved. She'd seen it so many times by the time I remember watching it with her that she'd quote the entire movie.

When she died, it was like she had never been there. It was hard for me to remember the sound of her voice or the smell of her perfume. I could clearly remember the bad times. Those were etched in my mind in indelible ink. The good memories I had of her were few and growing fainter with every passing day.

The memory of my grandma was clear and strong. I felt her around me often. When a warm wind blew past me for a second, I'd feel her standing beside me. But with my mother it was like she was mostly erased from my life.

I hadn't run across this movie since I was eight years old. I'm not sure how long I stood in the middle of the living room, arms wrapped around myself, crying, because time seemed to stop until I sensed Beckett standing behind me.

He kissed me where my neck met my shoulder. "Why are you crying?"

I scrubbed at my face, smudging my mascara. "One day, when I was eight years old, I came home from school, and my mom had built a giant fort out of blankets in the living room. My grandma was working the night shift at the diner, and it was just me and my mom at home, which was good, because Grandma liked everything tidy."

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