Page 20 of Inked Obsession

“Rebound?” he whispered.

“Did I say that out loud?”

“Who is Natasha?” he asked.

I almost didn’t say anything. I almost held my tongue and walked away and left to cry in my bed. I was tired. So tired.

I pulled away, and he reached out and wiped the tears from my cheeks. I tried not to wonder what it would be like to have him touch my face when I wasn’t sobbing and looking like a coffee-stained, panicked mess.

That wouldn’t have accomplished anything.

“What’s going on, Eliza?” he whispered, pushing my messy hair from my face.

I might as well tell him everything. He’d already seen me at mybest. “Apparently, my husband cheated on me. With his high school girlfriend. The woman my in-laws love more than anyone else. The one they chose for him over me. He cheated on me with her, and according to them, he has a little girl—a daughter. Everybody knew but me. My husband is dead. Gone. There’s a little girl out there with his eyes. I don’t know if I’m supposed to believe it, but of course, it has to be true. Because why else would my former in-laws ask me for money for her?”

My voice shook, and it felt as if the world tugged at me, taking everything from me.

“Why wasn’t I good enough, Beckett? Why wasn’t I good enough for him to stay faithful? Why did he have to go back to her? Why did they have to lie? Why did he have to go? He could have stayed here, and we could have fought, and I could have figured out what to do. But I can’t hate a ghost. I can’t hate a dead man. Instead, I have to live here in my misery and pretend that I’m going to be okay, no matter what. I can’t hate a man who can’t speak for himself.”

The tears fell, and Beckett just stared at me and then cursed under his breath. “Come here, let me hold you some more.”

“I can’t.” The tears fell harder, and I shook. Then I was somehow falling to the floor, my legs going out from under me. Beckett was there, cushioning my fall, holding me close on his lap as he sat with me. He rocked me, his words soft and soothing as he slid his hands down my sides, keeping me calm. Or trying to. I was sticky with sugar, covered in coffee and the tears of betrayal and everything else that was my life.

“What do I need to do?” I whispered.

“We’ll figure it out. Tell the girls. Your brothers. I’ll help you. I’m here right now. Just cry it out. Then we’ll figure out what’s next. You’re allowed to hate him, Eliza. He may be a ghost, but you don’t have to revere him simply because he’s gone.”

“I don’t know what to do,” I whispered, even though he had given me a path. I would follow it, because I did as I was told. I needed to stop pushing myself down. This wasn’t me. This had never been me. Why did I feel like everything was falling? I was shaking, but the tears had stopped, yet Beckett kept holding me. Rocking me back and forth.

I had put my entire identity into being a military wife—Marshall’s wife. I had put everything into being that person. When that was taken from me, and they slapped the title of Gold Star widow on me, I figured that was the person I was supposed to become. The identity they had carved from granite and misery.

I wasn’t that person, either. I was a woman. Alone. Crying her heart out in the arms of her best friend’s brother. I didn’t know when I was supposed to get up. What I should do next.

For now, I just let him hold me. I pretended that everything was okay. I pretended that I wasn’t me. Maybe, for once, I could sleep.

Chapter 7

Beckett

The popping sound came out of nowhere, and I ducked, pulling the person nearest me out of the way. Bullets ricocheted, and somebody screamed. Something fell. Pain radiated through my back, over my body, and I tried to breathe, tried to do anything. Only I couldn’t. All I could do was blink, shielding myself and the person under me.

The blood pooled, and I looked down. He was gone. His eyes were vacant, but he screamed. Even in death. He screamed.

I shot out of bed, my whole body shaking, and cursed myself. I sat in the middle of my mattress, my chest heaving, my entire body covered in sweat, shaking. I pushed my hair out of my face and tried to catch my breath.

Another nightmare. Fourth day in a row. In the months since the shooting, I had been doing better. I had been learning to sleep. Making it through the nights. I didn’t know what was going on. I just couldn’t shake this feeling.

I had survived. Brian hadn’t. Brian had been a friend from college that Lee and I had known. The three of us had been out, but Lee had left early. Then the shooting had happened—a robbery gone wrong.

Now, my friend was dead.

I had watched it happen and hadn’t been able to help him. It wasn’t my fault. I told myself that often enough. I told the grief counselor I had spoken to a few times after the incident that it wasn’t my fault. My subconscious didn’t believe that. My conscious self didn’t either.

Then again, that wasn’t only it. I couldn’t focus, couldn’t do much. All I could do was try to get through the nightmares and pretend that I was okay.

Only I didn’t know if that would ever happen. Not when I felt like I was out of control.

I rolled out of bed and stood naked in my room, practically vibrating. I wasn’t weak. I kept telling myself that, and yet I felt weak. Something was definitely wrong with me. I needed to do better. But I didn’t think that was going to happen. Not when everything seemed so…off. So odd. I would be okay, though. I had to be. It just wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. Not if my dreams had anything to say about it.

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