Page 32 of Forever to Fall
The last time he was in the bed, he held his grandfather’s hand while he drifted away. The hospice team had been so kind, so patient while he broke down in the aftermath. Looking at the bed now, Beckett did not want to be close to those painful moments. Avoiding them was pointless, but that didn’t mean he literally needed to nestle into them.
Mallory unfolded the fitted sheet, shaking the fabric apart. “Stop!” he practically shouted, startling Mallory so much she dropped the sheet.
Splaying her hand over her chest, she gasped. “You scared the hell out of me.” She bent to retrieve the sheet and start again, but Beckett couldn’t handle it.
“Please, Mal.” His voice broke, and his eyes began to water. “I don’t think I can—” His words were lost to the sob that escaped his lips. “I can’t.” He covered his face, knocking his glasses loose and tumbling to the floor.
Through the ringing in his ears, he heard Mallory approach. She pulled him to her in a bone-crushing hug, muttering words of encouragement as the tears fell. This was hardly the first time he’d broken down since Gramps died, but it was the first time he’d been truly comforted by someone he loved.
“We don’t have to stay up here,” she promised, rubbing comforting circles on his back. “If memory serves, that couch is pretty damn comfy.”
Beckett choked out a laugh, his arms still tight around Mallory’s waist. Their little trio had built countless forts on the downstairs couch, and right now, he couldn’t think of anywhere else he wanted to be.
“Let’s bring the sheets. I think it’s high time we built a fort.” Wiping at his eyes with the backs of his hands, he looked around for his glasses. He didn’t have to squint long before he felt the frames slide over his ears. In the blink of an eye, Mallory was in sharp focus in front of him, a loving expression on her gorgeous face.
“I call the extra pillow,” she teased, kissing his forehead before leading the way back downstairs, a set of sheets tucked under her arm.
By the time they reached the bottom of the stairs, Mallory had her arm around him, and his head rested on her shoulder. The only sounds were the rain on the tin roof and the distance whoosh of wind around the house. It was simultaneously comforting and life affirming.
“Thanks for coming back down here. I know you’re not a fan of storms, but I couldn’t stay up there.”
“It’s okay,” she promised, steering them toward the kitchen. Dropping the bedding on the counter, she headed to the pantry. “When I found Gramps’s vodka stash, I also found Gram’s tea basket. How about a cup of chamomile before we build the fort to end all forts?”
Beckett shuffled to the kitchen table and took a seat, careful to prop his foot on the opposite chair. “Tea sounds perfect.”
Mallory went to work putting a kettle on the stove and flitting around looking for mugs and sugar. When the tea was ready, she carried everything over to the table. After sliding a cup to his side, she closed the distance and knelt in front of him. Beckett’s heart lodged in his throat at the sight of her, so relaxed in his presence. If it had been any other time, he would have her in his lap and kissing like their lives depended on it. Yet now, surrounded by the distant surge of grief that threatened to pull him under, Beckett couldn’t think of a better place to be.
This all felt right to him, even down to the farm house. While they sat in companionable silence sipping tea, Beckett wondered if perhaps he made a rash decision by moving out of the old house. This felt like home more than a stuffy apartment in Buckeye Falls, no matter how close his best friend was.
Perhaps he was too hasty and it was time to come home. Then again, maybe he had suffered a head injury and was hallucinating a future that did not exist. As Mallory gathered their mugs to put in the sink he made a decision. This would not be the last time they spent an evening together on the farm. If he played his cards right, they would sleep in each other’s arms like in his wildest dreams. Beckett would make some changes—he was coming home. And he was bringing Mallory with him.
CHAPTER 10
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Mallory wasn’t goingto scream, she wasn’t. She was a grown-ass woman who wasn’t afraid of thunderstorms or the dark...or the churning in her gut. Nope, she could handle this. A boom of thunder sounded overhead, shaking the farm house, the vibrations coursing to the soles of her sneakers.
