Page 62 of New River Gorge(ous)
I pull back after a minute and swipe my hands across my wet lashes. My hand comes away covered with mascara.
I blow out a breath and whisper, “Sorry.”
He gives the half smile that probably makes all the tourist women want to date him in the first place, but it has no effect on me. “You want to take a minute? We’ve got an hour before the group should start showing up, but I can handle anyone who’s early.”
“Thanks.” I meet his blue eyes as I walk behind the counter. I grab a key to the storage shed as I pass by since it’s one place where I can have a little privacy to compose myself. The last thing I hear as I slip through the door is Logan’s voice saying the wordsyour girl.
Finally alone, I slump to the ground, pull my knees to my chest, and hug them tight. I sit like that for a while, putting my hand just under the collar of my shirt so I’m touching my collarbone, and focus on breathing. I had not anticipated that living with Meemaw would be so difficult for my emotional regulation. When I had my own apartment and was upset, I had a place I felt safe to let it all out. With Meemaw, I haven’t been able to do that because I’ve internalized my role as caretaker. Just because I am helping her doesn’t mean I don’t have feelings too.
I’m sure my face is a fright, but I have a job to do, so now that I’ve let some of the emotional explosion out, I’m ready to face the task at hand. Maybe not as cheerfully as I would usually, but I can grit my teeth and get through this shift with some semblance of normalcy.
The grit stuck to my jean shorts plinks to the ground as I stand, so I sweep my backside with my hand before I pull on the door handle. I don’t get to the door because, as I’m still brushing the floor off my shorts, the door swings open.
A man stands in the middle of the doorway, squinting into the darkness of the storage shed.
“Brooke?” Beck’s voice is hoarse. “Are you in here?”
I step forward from the corner where I’d been slumped against the wall, and in the backlight of the sunshine, I can see his face. His arched eyebrows, his lips turned down at the corners, the worry in his brown eyes, the backward hat on his head. I have the advantage because my eyes have already adjusted to the light before his do to the dark.
As soon as he sees me, he steps forward with long, confident strides. “Brooke.” He reaches out a thumb and brushes some lingering wetness off my cheek. “Why are you crying?”
“Me–” I sniffle. “Meemaw.”
Beck opens his arms, and I step into them with no hesitation. Unlike the hug with Logan earlier, this hug has meaning I can’t deny. His gray T-shirt is soft against my cheek, and I let myself listen to the steady thump of his heartbeat. His hand rubs patterns over the back of my pink New RAFT T-shirt as he holds me.
My own arms wrap around his waist and squeeze as tight as I can, knowing that he’s holding me. He’s with me.
Finally, I release my arms and step back. “How did you know I was crying in here?”
Beck rubs a hand down the side of his face. “Logan told me.”
“Oh.” I had hoped he was just coming to see me. Disappointment must flash across my face because Beck takes one step closer.
“I did want to come see you at work, though. I just didn’t want to distract you when you’re still getting the hang of it.”
I smile at the sincerity in his tone. “Thanks for coming to see me anyway,” I say as I slip my hand in his.
He pulls the door away from the rock wedge with his other hand, and we step out into the sunshine together. To the left, Logan’s clicking away on the computer as he talks on the phone, but there’s a strange woman staring at the door to the storage shed.
“Beckett,” she says sternly, her mouth turned into a frown that looks oddly familiar and her brown eyes snapping as she glances my way. “Is it true?”
Beck drops my hand as if he’s been scalded. I look from one to the other at least twice before Beckett provides the answer to the riddle.
“Mom.”
34
Beck
My mother is standing in front of me, but she’snotstaring at me. She’s staring at Brooke. Natasha Whistler is an intimidating woman on the best of days. It is clear that today is not the best of days because the look on her face is far worse than intimidating. She is a formidable fortress. Her iron-gray hair is the castle keep, and she is ready to pour boiling tar on her opponents.
Unfortunately, the way I dropped Brooke’s hand makes everything about this interaction ten times worse. I can’t decide if I should pick it back up, or if I should step forward and give my mom a hug to break the tension. And because I am a highly educated man with a medical degree, I do neither.
“Who isthis?” my mom hisses, her brown eyes locked on Brooke’s petite frame, and a snarl curling her lips.
I swallow. This is bad. My mom has always been protective of the ones she loves. It’s just unfortunate she loved Addie more than me. My mother has pestered me to get back together with Addie at least once a month since Addie walked out on ourwedding. I only speak to my mother once a month because I cannot stand the tension she brings to every interaction.
Brooke breaks the tension with a bright smile as she steps forward. “Hi,” she says, extending her hand to my mom. “I’m Brooke Bastion. Beck’s neighbor for the summer.”
