Page 30 of Forever to Fall
“I drive you crazy?”
Letting out a humorless laugh, Beckett squeezed her hand. “I’m so sorry about what happened after Gram’s funeral.”
The mention of their last time together took the air from her lungs, and Mallory had to focus on breathing. “I don’t want to talk about that,” she whispered.
Which, of course, was a lie. Not only did Mallory want to talk about it, she wanted to dissect every moment of that interaction. Like the archeologists who found the Rosetta Stone, she needed to decipher every detail until she was satisfied—until she understood what he was talking about.
“Tough, because I do. I’m an absolute ass. I should have stood up for myself, for us, and told Evan to knock it off with the matchmaking. But I panicked and screwed everything up.”
There they were, the words Mallory had waited two long years to hear. And the worst part was, she had no idea what to say or do about it. Swallowing hard, she wondered when this gaping void in her chest would close. It was impossible to deny that his words affected her, but she still felt there was something standing in their way.
“You don’t want Evan to know about us.” It was a statement, not a question.
Beckett’s Adam’s apple bobbed a few times as he gulped. Mallory wouldn’t say a word until he answered her. She could sit there all night in the farm house’s warm kitchen, surrounded by the memories of her childhood and the scents of milkshakes and burgers. If Beckett needed a century to find his words, she’d wait him out. Hell, she felt like she already had.
To punctuate her point, she pulled the last of the milkshake from her cup, the whoosh of air through the straw the only sound between them. Finally, after adjusting his glasses and muttering something under his breath, Beckett snagged her gaze.
“I want to tell Evan about us, but I want to do it right.”
Mallory snorted. “What’s the wrong way to tell him? Hire a pilot to write it in the sky? Take out an ad in the local paper? Do a viral TikTok?” She really was curious, as it seemed foolish to hide anything now. Everyone was an adult, or at least on paper. Hell, if Evan could get engaged to the love of his life, why couldn’t she share a lousy meal with hers?
Wait a minute...she didn’t mean love with a capital L, right? It was too soon to fall back into that headspace. Her heart couldn’t handle that again, could it?
“Do you still have Gramps’s secret stash?” Mallory asked, striding around the table toward the walk-in pantry.
Beckett’s chuckle followed her as she went scavenging for liquid courage. “Third row in the right-hand corner. Behind the cannister of oatmeal.”
Mallory returned with a bottle of vodka and two juice glasses. After splashing a generous shot into each, she slid a glass toward Beckett. “To all of those who wish us well,” she started, raising her glass to clink.
“And all the rest can go to hell.” Beckett finished their toast and downed his vodka in one. His eyes watered, but he rallied. The nurse in her screamed that alcohol with his meds was a bad idea, but so was this entire evening, so she let it ride.
The vodka coursed a hot trail down her throat, and Mallory relished the burn. Beckett nibbled on a cold French fry for a moment before he continued, “I want Evan to know this is real.” Shoving the plate aside, he added, “I wantyouto know this is real. Mallory, you’re it for me. I’ve been an absolute idiot for years, and I’d like us to figure this out.”
“You mean for real? You’d be my date to family dinners? We’d go to Evan’s wedding as a couple? We eventually move in together?” Her voice grew higher with every question.
Beckett nodded, each statement making his smile bigger.
“And if it came to it, you’d want to marry me? Have a family?”
Reaching out, Beckett cupped her cheek. She worried about his injured hand, but she leaned into his touch. The warmth of his skin seeped through the dressings, anchoring them together. How had she gone this long without Beckett touching her; holding her close?
“I want all of that with you. If you’ll give me a chance, I’ll make it up to you.”
Yeah, she needed to get to a doctor. There was no way she heard that right. “Just like that?” she asked, leaning closer so Beckett could cradle her face in both hands. The scratch of the bandages grounded her to the moment—to the potential madness.
Despite his work as an accountant, Beckett’s hands were calloused and worn, like an old pair of work boots. She loved knowing he used his hands to keep the farm house looking nice, that he wasn’t afraid to jump into a situation to help. These were hands she trusted, hands she knew intimately.
His voice a low grumble, Beckett said, “It’s not just like that, Mal. We’ve been trying this for years.”
Trying—six little letters strung together for maximum impact.
“Yeah, Beckett. We have tried this forever.” Unwilling to show her hand, but knowing it needed to be said, she continued. “What if we’re not meant to be? What if all of these years of miscommunication were signs we aren’t supposed to be more than friends?”
Beckett’s hold tightened, but only slightly. “You really think that?”
Mallory shrugged helplessly, unsure what to think. It was all too much right now. Beckett’s words, his proximity, the memories this old house held, everything threatened to crush her, leave her broken and begging for mercy. “I don’t know what I think anymore. We’re basically the human equivalent of a yo-yo.”
She didn’t want to be negative, but she felt she owed her heart more than a few platitudes and a milkshake. Perhaps Beckett picked up on that too, because he said, “I’ll prove to you that this is the right thing. Thatwe’reright. I promise, Mal. I just want one more chance.”
