Page 406 of Rage

It was true that I didn’t know if I could trust him, but something in his words—how he said them—made me want to. It was foolish, of course. I barely knew this man, and yet... there was something about him that drew me in. Something that made me want to believe he could be different from all the others.

“Why should I?” My voice was stronger this time, belying the uncertainty swirling inside me.

“You don’t have to. Not yet.” His hands found my waist, his thumbs brushing the bare skin just above my pelvis. “But I’m going to prove it to you. That I’m not like the rest. That I can be trusted.”

“How do you plan to do that?”

His lips curved into a shadowed smile I could barely make out, and I felt his gaze on me even though I couldn’t see his eyes. “I’ll start by telling you my name. It’s Beckett. Beckett Holden.”

Beckett.

Oh, god.

I know this man. And he’s known me–for years.

It clicked simultaneously, and the air flew from my lungs as I struggled to catch my breath.

“Well, Beckett,” I took a pause to catch my breath. “This is one way to get a girl’s attention when she turns down a date from you.”

He chuckles in answer and I can’t believe I didn’t register his voice this whole time. “I’m persistent when I want to be.”

“So, what now?”

He pulls me closer, his breath warm against my ear as he whispers, “Now... I take care of you.”

I let him hold me, letting his touch soothe the doubts and fears that still lingered. His hands were gentle yet firm, and I could feel the strength in them—a promise of protection. But it was more than that. It was as if he understood the depth of my pain and was offering solace without asking for anything in return—something I had never had before.

“Why?” The word slipped out, raw and vulnerable. “Why would you do this for me?”

His thumb brushes my cheek, wiping away a tear I didn’t realize had fallen.

“Because you need it,” he whispers. “And because I want to.”

I leaned into his touch, my body yearning for the comfort he offered, even if my mind wanted to push him away. “But?—”

“Shh.” His finger presses gently against my lips, silencing my protests. “Let me make you feel safe.”

So, I do. I let him. I surrender to the darkness, to the comfort of a stranger, and for the first time in a long time, I let myself imagine that maybe—just maybe—I could be healed.

Beckett makes me finish with his mouth and his fingers before he enters me in the dark. It’s not slow like the times before. It’s fast and full of desire and hunger for each other. I love that he doesn’t treat me as if I’m about to break and allows me to take charge with him. I think he likes it, too, because he’s dripping down my thighs within minutes when I straddle him again on the couch.

We lay down together on the vinyl surface with my back pressed against his front before we speak again.

“Tell me something,” he murmurs against my hair. “What do you want?”

My heart jumps at the question. It felt too raw—too vulnerable—to answer honestly. I craved safety, love, and maybe even redemption from the choices that had led me here.

“I want…” The words tangle on my tongue before they break free. “I want to feel normal.”

His fingers trace patterns on my back as he contemplates my words. “You are normal,” he replies softly. “Just because you’ve been through hell doesn’t mean you’re not deserving of happiness. Fuck, you’re more deserving than most.”

Happiness felt like a distant dream that slipped through my fingers every time I reached for it. But there was a part of me that wanted to believe Beckett.

“Do you really think so?” I ask.

“I know so.” He shifted slightly, creating enough space for our bodies to comfortably fit on the couch as he turned me to face him.

I drew in a shaky breath, feeling exposed but strangely empowered by his promise. I couldn’t see him still in the dark, but I could hear the smile in his voice.

---