Page 21 of Bonfire with Beckett
Grace.
Work.
I can see how all of those might come into play in a future with Beckett. Assuming there is a future.
I’m so caught up in these thoughts, I barely notice where we’re going until the truck turns onto the gravel road that leads to the lake.
My heart skips. “Dad?”
He just smiles faintly and keeps driving.
When we crest the final hill and the shoreline comes into view, I gasp.
The lake glows.
Thousands of lights are strung overhead, draped from poles sunk deep into the ground.
Warm orange and red bulbs flicker like embers.
Heat lamps hum along the perimeter, sending waves of warmth through the crisp night air.
Speakers hidden among the trees pipe in the low crackle of fire, blending with the sweet notes of a fiddle.
And the air itself carries a faint smoky scent, like woodsmoke without the danger of a real fire.
And the people… I swear, the whole town must be here. Families, couples, kids darting around with marshmallows on sticks. Someone’s set up tables with graham crackers and chocolate. People are playing cornhole, laughing, singing, dancing.
It’s everything I imagined. Everything I wanted.
Only… Better.
My eyes blur with tears. “How… how is this possible?”
“Ask him,” Dad says, tipping his head toward the center of it all.
Beckett.
He’s waiting by the steel ring that was supposed to hold the fire, now filled with a sculpture of glowing light rods that pulse and shimmer like flames. He looks solid and steady, but when his gaze finds me, something in his expression cracks open.
I step forward, my knees unsteady. “You did this?”
“Of course I did.” His voice is rough, thick. He takes my hands in his, his warmth flowing into me. “Because I love you, Willa. I love you. And I wanted you to have this. Not just because it mattered to your mom. Not just because it mattered to the town. But because it matters to you. And your happiness matters more to me than anything.”
A sob breaks out of me, half laugh, half cry. “You love me?”
He nods once, firm. “Yeah. I do. And I want us to have a story to tell our kids someday that’s every bit as good as your parents’. Maybe better.”
Tears spill over my cheeks. “Beckett…”
“I know it won’t always be easy,” he says. “I know I’m stubborn and grumpy and I’ll get things wrong. But I’ll fight for you. For us. Every damn day.”
I throw my arms around his neck and kiss him, hard and certain and full of every ounce of love flooding my chest. The crowd around us cheers, but all I feel is him—his mouth, his arms, his heart beating against mine.
“I love you too,” I whisper when we finally break for air. “I’ve been falling for you since the moment you stood up and told me no.”
His laugh rumbles through me. “Guess it pays to be a buzzkill.”
The crowd cheers again as we kiss, long and sweet and sure, under the glow of a flame that isn’t a fire at all.
