Page 60 of Beckett
“You were in your element,” he said. “I could see it. The way you just…knew exactly what to do.”
“It felt good,” I admitted. “Like remembering who I used to be.”
“Not used to be.” He cupped my face, thumb brushing my cheekbone. “Who you are. This is still you, Audra. The skills, the talent, the instincts—they didn’t go anywhere. They’re just waiting while you get the other stuff figured out.”
Tears pricked my eyes. “I want to stay.”
The words hung between us, heavy with implication. Not just stay at Pawsitive Connections. Not just stay in Garnet Bend. Stay here, with him, building something that felt dangerously close to a future.
“Then stay,” he said simply. “We’ll keep you safe.”
“You can’t promise that.”
“Watch me.” That quiet menace from before reappeared, now familiar but no less intense. “I told you already—anyone wanting to hurt you goes through me first. And I don’t give up on the people I care about.”
I believed him. This man who’d survived war zones, who carried the weight of his failures like armor against future losses—he’d stand between me and whatever came.
He reached down and kissed me, tasting of coffee. “Now let’s get these animals fed. They don’t give a shit about press releases.”
I watched as he headed back to the kitchen, my fingers coming up to touch the burn scar on my neck. Yes, this man would stand between me and danger.
But that didn’t mean it wouldn’t cost him his life.
Chapter 19
Audra
The last of the water buckets hit the ground with a satisfying thud, and I straightened, pressing my hands to the small of my back. My muscles ached in that good way that meant honest work, and despite everything, I couldn’t stop the small smile that tugged at my lips.
Yesterday’s PR success still hummed through me like electricity. The way Beckett’s face had shifted when he’d seen the press release I’d created—surprise melting into something that looked almost like pride. After so long feeling worthless, I’d actually contributed something. Like I had value beyond just surviving another day.
The thought that had been circling my mind like a persistent fly pushed forward again: Could I really stay here? Build something real in Garnet Bend?
“You look happy today, boy,” I said to Jet as he pressed against my leg, tail wagging as if my mood was contagious.
“I am too.” I scratched behind his ears, earning a contented groan. “Things might actually be turning around.”
Beckett had been scarce today, just like yesterday. He’d stopped by the kennels this morning, apologizing again for needing space. Last night had been rough once again.
“I understand,” I’d told him, and meant it. “Take all the time you need.”
The relief in his expression had been worth the tiny lie. Truth was, I missed him. Missed his steady presence, the way he moved through space like he belonged there. Missed talking and joking with him as we went about our duties each day. Missed learning more and more about dog training.
Could I really be an actual trainer like he’d said? I knew the answer was yes. He wouldn’t say so otherwise, not even to save my feelings.
But that wasn’t the only reason I was feeling good.
This morning, Beckett had handed me the envelope from Lark, looking almost uncomfortable about playing messenger. “She sent it through me due to your lack of means for electronic transfers,” he’d said gruffly. “Two weeks’ pay, plus a bonus. Said you earned it.”
I had to sit down on the nearest hay bale, my legs suddenly unsteady. Since destroying my credit cards and disappearing into a cash-only existence three months ago, every penny had been accounted for, rationed, stretched. Now I didn’t have to count each dollar. Didn’t have to choose between gas and food. Didn’t have to wonder if I’d have enough for even the cheapest motel if sleeping in my car became impossible.
With the cabin provided, no rent to pay, no utilities to worry about—I could actually save some of this. Build a cushion. The relief made my throat tight with unshed tears.
“We’re okay,” I whispered to Jet, who’d followed me to the hay bale and now rested his head on my knee. “We’re actually okay.”
Since Beckett wasn’t around and the afternoon chores were done, I decided to head into town. The grocery store. I could splurge a little, make Beckett a real dinner. A thank-you for everything—the job, the cabin, the encouragement.
A steak dinner. My mouth watered at the thought. Rib eye with a perfect crust, baked potato loaded with butter and sour cream, green beans sautéed with garlic. The kind of meal I used to make for Todd when he’d had a rough week.
