Page 64 of New River Gorge(ous)
“But Beckett, I’m your mother.” There’s a slight hitch in her voice, the tiniest bit of sorrow in her words, but I can’t buy it.Her stone façade might be cracking, but my body is made of granite. I am an impenetrable fortress, and although I realized long ago what my mother is, I’m no longer willing to make exceptions for her because she birthed me.
“And I’m not willing to let you insult the woman I love.”
Mom’s eyes flash something that might be regret, but I turn away, grasp Brooke’s hand, and tug her away from my second least favorite woman in the world.
I don’t let go, and I don’t stop walking until we’re on the other side of the storage shed and sheltered from prying eyes.
35
Brooke
I am not scared of petty women. I’m not afraid of women who are overgrown mean girls. I’m not frightened by bullies. I never have been. But there is no doubt in my mind that Beck’s mom is petty, an overgrown mean girl, and a bully, all in one. Sure, I’m angry because she made it very clear that all I am in her eyes is a passing floozy. Mostly, though, I’m angry at how she treated Beck, and weirdly, I’m not angry at all.
Words are hard for him. And instead of clamming up completely like I half expected him to, he defended me. If there’s anything more attractive than a man standing up for a woman, I’d like to know about it because nothing else comes to mind.
Beck breathes heavily once we’re behind the shed and locks eyes with me. An entire world of emotion swirls through his gaze, and I’m debating kissing him again (because I want to, not because I have a point to make), when Logan’s voice floats out of the shadows.
“Your mom is still … like that?”
Beck’s head snaps around until he finds Logan lurking in the corners. “Yep,” he says, and there’s a lifetime of frustration in the single syllable.
Logan purses his lips and shakes his head. “Addie?”
“Yep,” Beck says again.
Logan steps forward into the light. “I’m sorry, man.” He claps a hand on Beck’s shoulder. “Don’t let them ruin your life.” He looks slyly at me and winks. “And Beck, Iwillbe needing my employee up front in ten minutes.”
Beck gives one slow nod as Logan walks away, but he doesn’t break eye contact with me. It’s intense, and I don’t know if I should run for the hills or stay exactly where I am and see what this attractive man who cares enough about me to declare his love to his terrible mother is thinking. I’m unsteady, and that’s rare for me. Rare, and somewhat thrilling.
I take a half step backward, and my back bumps into the wall of the storage building.
Beck takes a half step forward, and I lean toward him in response. His arms land on either side of my shoulders, his hands braced against the back wall. “Brooke,” he whispers. “I am so sorry.”
And then he takes control and leans in for a sweet kiss. It’s not hurried or passionate. It’s soft and gentle, and it makes me want a lifetime with this man. He breaks the kiss and presses his lips right on the scar at the corner of my eye. When he’s done, he pulls away, and his liquid brown eyes meet mine.
“So that’s your mom?” I ask, because I’m undone, and I don’t know how to break the tension of what’s building between us. I don’t want to break it. I want to stand on the precipice and jump with Beck and trust that no matter where we fall, we’ll land together.
“Y-yeah,” Beck stammers as he drops his hands to his sides. “She’s not very nice, but I haven’t ever cut ties completelybecause she paid for so much of my education. And she’s my…” He squeezes his eyes shut.
“She’s your mom,” I say.
He opens his eyes, and I see the sorrow in them, the hurt that this woman has inflicted on her own child, and the love that Beck still has for the woman who birthed him despite everything I just saw.
“Yeah,” he says roughly. He steps back, out of my space, and I find myself unappreciative of the new distance between us.
Thoughts swirl in my mind like water circling a drain, but one has to be asked. “What does Addie have to do with your mom?”
Beck kicks a pebble with his shoe. “My mom really appreciated Addie’s…” He frowns. “Genetics.”
“What?” That answer is strange.
“She liked the thought of grandchildren … looking a certain way.”
“Oh.” I’m a balloon, and those words just depleted me of all helium. The self-doubt that I shoved aside claws its way back out of the place I thought I’d buried it. Addie is beautiful, model-esque, and I’m not. I’ve always had a ‘girl next door’ type of beauty, not the ‘sells makeup in magazines’ type.
“No, Brooke.” Beck’s eyes widen and he shakes his head. “Addie isnotmore beautiful than you.” Somehow, he sees it. He sees the anxiety I hide, and more than that, in just a few dates, heknowsme.
The sincerity in his eyes makes me almost believe him. But there are still objective truths.
