Page 19 of Beckett
“Just different,” I repeated, knowing it wasn’t enough but unable to explain further.
Coop and Aiden exchanged one of those looks that years of friendship made possible—entire conversations in a glance. They were reading more into my words than I’d intended to share, seeing things I wasn’t ready to acknowledge.
“You like her,” Coop announced with the confidence of someone who knew he was right.
“I don’t know her,” I protested.
“You want to know her,” he amended.
“I want to keep her safe.” The admission surprised me with its vehemence. “She’s scared, really scared. Running from something or someone that has her looking over her shoulder every few minutes. And she’s…” I struggled for the right word, finally settling on, “fragile. Looks like she hasn’t had a decent meal in weeks, probably hasn’t had a safe place to sleep in longer than that.”
“So feed her,” Aiden suggested with typical practicality. “Protect her. That’s what we do, isn’t it?”
“It’s not that simple,” I argued.
“Why not?” Coop asked.
Because getting involved meant caring, and caring meant the possibility of failing. I’d already failed enough people for one lifetime, carried enough ghosts to last forever. Rodriguez’s face flashed through my mind, followed by all the others who’d trusted me to keep them safe.
“Beck.” Coop’s voice had gone serious, all teasing vanished. “When’s the last time you were interested in someone? Really interested?”
“I’m not—” I started to deny it.
“Bullshit,” he cut me off. “You’ve mentioned this woman more in the last five minutes than you’ve mentioned any female in the past year. That means something, brother.”
“It means she needs help,” I insisted.
“So help her,” Aiden said, making it sound simple when nothing in our world ever was. “You’ve got the skills, the resources, the proximity. What’s stopping you?”
“And if she doesn’t want help?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
“Then you back off.” Coop shrugged. “But from what you’re describing, sounds like she could use a friend at minimum. Or at least someone watching her six while she figures things out.”
They were right, and I hated it. Hated the pull I felt toward a woman I’d known less than a week, hated the protective instincts she triggered without trying.
“Yeah, you’re right.”
Coop studied me for a long moment, his expression shifting through several emotions before settling on something like understanding. “You’ve got it bad, brother.”
“I’ve got nothing,” I corrected. “Just doing my job.”
“For what it’s worth,” Aiden said quietly, “I think you’re doing the right thing. Sometimes people need space to come to terms with accepting help. Pushing too hard, too fast just makes them run further.”
“Speaking from experience?” Coop asked, but gently, without his usual edge.
Aiden just gave him that thousand-yard stare that shut down further questions. We all had our ghosts, our moments that defined us. Some we shared, some we kept locked away where even brothers couldn’t reach.
Wendy brought the check, and we went through our usual routine of fighting over it, though with less enthusiasm thannormal. Coop won this round, throwing down cash before either Aiden or I could protest.
“Same time next week?” he asked as we stood, the vinyl seats creaking with released pressure.
“Unless the world ends,” I agreed, falling back on our standard response.
“Even then,” Aiden added. “Pretty sure this place would survive the apocalypse.”
We headed for the door together, but Coop caught my arm just before we reached it, his grip firm but not restraining.
“Hey,” he said, making sure I was listening. “All joking aside, if this woman needs help—real help, not just a safe place to work—you call us. Whatever she’s running from, whoever’s hunting her, she doesn’t have to face it alone. Neither do you, brother. We’ve got your six, same as always.”
