Page 16 of Forever to Fall
The day of Gram’s service was one of the lowest of Beckett’s life. To add insult to injury, Beckett’s father had appeared long enough to sniff around for his inheritance and stir up trouble. “Hey, Beckett,” his father had said from the porch, hand clenched on the banister.
“Hi” was all Beckett could muster. He pulled at his tie, eager to loosen the damn thing before it threatened to choke him. “What are you doing here?”
His father scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Well, my mother died. Seemed only fitting to come back and check in.”
“Check in? On who? Me? Gramps?”
His father had the decency to look embarrassed, his gaze falling to a loose board on the porch. He toed at the plank and muttered something about the house falling apart. Beckett ground his teeth. He would not be baited by his dad. That man didn’t care about the house or the people who lived in it. Never had, never will.
Beckett stood straight. “You didn’t answer my question.” After pausing for a moment, his dad huffed out a sigh, but still didn’t answer the question. “Ah, I see. You’re not here for awho, but awhat.”
That statement brought his father’s head up, and Beckett braced himself for an altercation. Granted it wouldn’t be physical, but Mike Fox had an uncanny ability to say the absolute worst thing at the absolute worst time. “If you must know,” he started, letting out a long sigh like Beckett was putting him out. “I’m curious if Mom left me anything.”
“Are you freaking kidding me?” Beckett stepped forward, coming toe-to-toe with his old man. He hadn’t seen him in over five years, and he’d grown at least another six inches. Mike inched back until he hit the railing. “I’m not here to cause trouble.”
“As far as I’m concerned, you’re not here at all.” Beckett shoved past his father and stormed off toward the orchards. It was late fall; the harvest was done and the trees were bare. The barren scene was fitting for his current mood. He stalked ahead, nearly tripping on exposed roots in his dress shoes. A sensible man would have changed before hiking through groves of trees, but Beckett never considered himself that smart.
Beckett managed to hide away from everyone until Mallory found him an hour later. She was clad in her black mourning dress, her brown hair pulled back in an artful braid. While nothing fancy, the dress hugged her curves in all the right places, giving her skin a creamy hue. She was a vision, his Mallory. And right now, he wanted nothing more than to find comfort in her gaze, in her arms.
“Thought I’d find you up here,” she said, easing down on the ground and tucking her legs beneath her. “Ev saw your dad leave, in case you’re wondering.”
Beckett snorted. “Did he speed off with a big bag of cash? That’s all he came for.” Bitterness oozed from his tone, but he didn’t care. In all his life, Beckett had never hated his father more than he did at that moment.
Mallory reached out and took one of his trembling hands in hers, giving it a firm squeeze. “Your dad is a first-class asshole. I’m not denying that. I saw him speaking to Gramps, but I don’t know what they said. I tried to keep my distance, out of respect to Gramps, of course.”
“You’re one of the good ones, Mal.” Beckett sighed, leaning down so his head rested on her shoulders. Even after an afternoon of helping with guests and tidying up the house, she smelled as fresh as a basket of raspberries.
“I’m here for you, you know. Whatever you need.” Mallory didn’t say anything else for a while. They stayed seated, watching the sun dip below the horizon. Even though his heart was shattered at losing Gram, and seeing his worthless father, Beckett felt a tiny moment of peace. Mallory was his rock, and he was incredibly grateful to be there with her, watching the sun set for the millionth time. It was reassuring, the sun going through its familiar routine. The ritual gave Beckett a little optimism that things would eventually feel right again.
After a little while, he heard footsteps stomping up the orchard row. Evan’s blond head was visible in the fading light, and he raised a hand in silent greeting. “He’s definitely gone. I watched him leave before I came up.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and rolled back on his heels.
Beckett knew he meant his father, and he was grateful for the notice. With everything going on, he knew if he saw his father again, he’d sock him right in the teeth, consequences be damned.
“Thanks, Lawless,” Beckett said. He made no move to pull away from Mallory. The need to be next to her was overwhelming. Every cell in his body screamed to be closer to her, to feel her warmth and absorb any ounce of happiness.
It took a moment, but he realized Evan was looking at him and Mallory like they were picking their noses. His brow furrowed, he frowned and shuffled his feet. “Yeah, man. No problem.”
Whether sensing Evan’s tone, or wanting to give the guys privacy, Mallory pulled herself up and dusted off her dress. “I’m going to go help Gramps with cleaning up.” She held out a hand as Beckett stood. He made no attempt to let go, keeping barely two inches between them. This was an intimate pose, not how friends would stand. For a second, no one moved. It was as if time had stood still. Could Evan tell they were into each other? Beckett felt like it was obvious on a regular day, but today, he was practically a part of Mal’s person, clinging to her like a literal lifeline.
Finally, Evan cleared his throat, jolting them back to the present. Mallory plodded past and disappeared into the trees like a ghost. Beckett missed her immediately.
“How are you holding up?” Evan asked, gesturing to the spot Mallory vacated.
Beckett nodded and sat back down, waiting for his buddy to settle before opening a vein and pouring out all the pain. That was one of the things he loved about Evan; he was no nonsense with feelings. A lot of his buddies would shy away from personal topics, but Evan’s heart was always open, always ready to take on someone else’s pain.
“Honestly, I don’t know.” Beckett leaned back, his hands sinking into the dirt. Despite the harvest being done, the air smelled faintly of apples. The sweet smell tugged a smile from his lips as he thought about all the times Gram would cook or bake with the fruit. He felt her at that moment, surrounding them with her warmth.
Before he could stop himself, he let a morsel of truth slip. “I miss her, and I’m worried about Gramps. They were together for over forty years.”
Evan nodded, his voice low. “That’s a lot of history, but he’s a tough man. He’ll rally for you.”
Beckett scoffed. “He shouldn’t have to rally for me. I need to be strong for him.”
“You will be. Don’t beat yourself up.”
Beckett shook his head, his glasses sliding down his nose. He didn’t bother to push them back into place. “I want that, you know.”
“What?”
