Page 76 of One Last Encore

"My hand mostly healed," he said, flexing his fingers a little. "But my pinky never set right."

He made a loose fist, and sure enough, his pinky stuck out just a little, something she’d never noticed before. Then, almost like the words meant more than just an old injury, he added, "Don’t worry. I’m not gonna let you slip away."

Her heart stuttered, the air between them thinning.

"You could let me go," she said quietly, not sure he’d even hear her. "But I wouldn’t go far."

Beck’s eyes locked onto hers, the kind of look that made her feel like he could see right through her.

The train roared into the station, sending a gust of wind around them, and the strand of her hair he’d been holding slipped free. Even with the crowd pushing around them, Beck didn’t look away. Ingrid slipped her hand into his and pulled him through the doors.

They found a spot in the corner of the subway car. She grabbed onto a pole, still holding his hand as the train jerked forward. He was staring at her, something clearly on his mind.

"What is it?" she asked, her voice low.

Beck hesitated, then said, "Does it bother you that I don’t have money?"

"Not even a little," she said, tightening her grip on his hand. "Nice things are nice, sure. But I'd rather be happy and broke than rich and miserable."

He studied her for a long moment, shadows flickering behind his eyes.

"That’s a rich person’s answer," he said softly. "You’ve never gone to bed hungry. You’ve never worn threadbare clothes because you had no choice. I’m not trying to guilt you. I just... need you to know where I’m coming from. I can’t give you the things you’re used to. Not right now."

"I know," she said, her voice steady. "But that’s not what matters to me. I care about you. Not things. Not the money. Just you."

"It kills me that I can’t give you everything you deserve," Beck whispered, his fingers tracing lightly over hers. "But one day... I will. I swear it."

"I don’t want anything but you," Ingrid whispered back, her words almost lost to the screech and rumble of the train.

Beck leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her lips, and warmth bloomed through her chest.

"Sweet girl," he breathed, his forehead resting against hers, his voice thick with something she could feel more than hear. "I wish that was enough."

For her, it was more than enough. So why wasn’t it for him?

Ingrid searched his face in the dim subway light, hoping for answers. She didn’t understand why they needed anything more when all she wanted was him.

The train announced her stop, pulling her from her thoughts. With a small sigh, she took his hand and led him off the subway, their fingers intertwining as they walked through the quiet, tree-lined streets toward her apartment.

When they reached her building, Beck came to an abrupt stop, tilting his head back as he took it all in.

"I always wondered who lived in these places," he mused, eyeing the brownstone. "Thought it’d be, like, politicians or tech billionaires."

"And me," she said, her voice softer as she turned the key in the lock, the sound echoing in the polished foyer.

Beck let out a low whistle as she led him inside, past gleaming brass accents and intricate molding. Everything about the building screamed wealth, and suddenly, she felt a little self-conscious.

He glanced around, then leaned in slightly. "So, be honest. Are you hiding a butler somewhere? Maybe a secret passageway behind a bookshelf? There has to be a hidden wine cellar in this place."

"If there is, I haven’t found it yet," she replied, shaking her head with a smile as they stepped into the elevator.

The moment she opened her apartment door, a blur of black fur shot toward them.

"Hi, Freddie," Ingrid said, just as her cat wound around her legs. But then, Freddie stopped, her sharp green eyes locking onto Beck with an expression that could only be described as deeply judgmental.

Beck crouched down, extending a hand. "Hi, pretty girl."

Ingrid braced herself, fully expecting Freddie to swipe at him. Any second now. But instead, Freddie let out a soft meow and actually leaned into Beck’s touch, rubbing her head against his fingers like they were old friends.

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