Page 29 of As the Rain Falls
“You’re being too kind,” he smiles weakly, his gaze softening. “Thanks for… I don’t know. Listening.”
Something painful twists in my guts. Beckett sounds so tired, like he’s made this argument in his head a couple of times.
“It’s nothing, really,” I answer honestly.
Another song starts and ends before he speaks again.
“I don’t think I’ll know what to do with myself if I turn out to be right.”
I fix my hair, tucking it behind my ears. “Like, about Lucia?”
“Yeah,” he clears his throat. “It was my job to protect her.”
I wince, eyes fixed on the road.Beckett doesn’t add anything else.
The car stops at a red light before his gaze snaps back to me.Songbirdechoes through the sound system. Rain is still falling, but considerably less so than it had been before, and the smell ofhis scent is comforting and safe. I feel my eyelids drooping as I let out a small yawn, my upper body stirring.
“Isn’t this your favorite song?” he asks, checking the scratches on my knees again. I’d completely forgotten about hurting myself. The wounds don’t even sting anymore, but he’s still fixating on it.
“It’s yours,” I recall, eyes dropping to my lap, where I know myself to be playing with my fingers, plucking the pink nail polish off. “I like the second track better.”
“No, you don’t,” Beckett retorts, sounding certain of it. “Songbird is your favorite one. You always sing to every single word.”
I blush, not knowing what to do with the fact that he’d notice something so stupid about me. He moves to press the button, wanting to go back to the second track, but I stop him before he gets to it.
“Don’t.”
“Why not?”
Because Songbird might just be my favorite now.
“We should listen to it in proper order.” I bite my lips, picking at the skin with my front teeth. “I don’t like to rush things.”
Feeling too self-conscious, I draw my hand back, turning my body so that I’m facing him. He blinks once or twice as the song continues to play.
“Hey, Becky?”
“Yes, Cass?”
“The lights are green again.”
“Oh, right.”
He stretches his arms before yawning too.
The car behind us starts honking, wanting us to move. I snort lightly when Beckett curses out loud, rolling the windows down and telling the man to kindly fuck off or drive around us.
ENTER MARIBELLA, THE CHICKEN
Beckett
OCTOBER, 2016
“Right there! There’s aspot closer to the exit, behind the red bike. I can walk; you don’t need to go all in!”
Cassandra picks up her backpack and places it over her thighs before glancing at me again. It’s some kind of pink mess she’s had since her first year at Sainte Madeleine, personalized with cool Star Wars pins and a starfish keychain.
I snort lightly, and she narrows her eyes at me with suspicion. Truthfully, my reaction is not meant to be derisive or mocking. It’s just… She’s insane if she thinks I’m going to make her walk all the way to the gates.
