Page 33 of Forever to Fall
Beckett reached out, snatching her hand, and tugging her to this side. “We’re going to lose power in a second,” he warned, fumbling in his pocket with his good hand for his cell phone. By the time he turned on the flashlight app, another clap of thunder echoed overhead. Before Mallory could react, a bolt of lightning coursed through the sky. The room lit up for an instant, long enough for her to see the worried expression on Beckett’s face.
“It’ll be fine,” she said, mostly to calm herself. She wasn’t going to be a baby about this, she wasn’t. When a third round of thunder and lightning hit, the house went dark and Mallory yelped.
Wasting no time, Beckett shone his phone’s light around them. “Grab the sheets, Mal. I think it’s time for that fort.” Never releasing her hand, he hobbled to the couch and moved a stack of newspapers onto the floor with an unceremonious thud. Mallory side-stepped the pile and joined him, careful to stay close enough so he didn’t drop her hand. It was childish, but she’d savor any contact with Beckett.
Once they were settled, he turned off the light and opened his weather app. The blue light reflected off his glasses, which were again slightly crooked. Using her free hand, Mallory tilted them back into place without a word. Beckett was so lost in his musings he hadn’t noticed. It was probably for the best, she told herself. Platonic friends don’t make a habit of touching each other’s faces.They also don’t hold hands or kiss passionately over cheeseburgers, and yet here we are...
Beckett muttered a curse before pocketing his cell phone. “Looks like it’s a really bad storm. That cold front is going to mess with things all night.” He flopped back onto the cushion and huffed a sigh, but he still held her hand.
Mallory tucked her feet under herself and followed suit, nestling as close to Beckett as she could without being obvious. Thank the Lord the man wasn’t a mind reader, otherwise, he’d probably bolt out into the heart of the storm to get away from her love-starved actions. They needed to be smart about whatever this was. It’s like hiking in the woods without a map. They needed to stay on the trail or risk getting lost and eaten by a grizzly bear. Well, that wasn’t the best analogy, but Mallory was exhausted.
For a moment, neither of them moved. They were as still as marble statues in a museum. Finally, Beckett’s thumb traced lazy circles over her knuckles. The pattern was known only to him, but she shivered at his touch. “Are you cold?” he asked, sitting up and releasing her hand. She missed the contact instantly.
“Not really. I guess I’m still a big baby about thunderstorms.” She laughed, but it sounded hollow.
Beckett stood and stumbled over to a stack of boxes by the door. It was clear he favored his good leg, and Mallory cursed her subpar nursing skills as he made his way around the room. At first, she feared he was going to run outside for something, but instead, he pulled out a hoodie and joined her back on the couch. “Here. It’s one of my old college hoodies.” Without asking permission, he unzipped it and draped it around her. His hands rested on her shoulders a moment longer than necessary, as if he wasn’t done sharing space with her either.
“Thank you,” Mallory said, covertly sniffing the fabric for any hint of Beckett. Even when they were kids, he had this warm, cedar scent that clung to him. The sweatshirt smelled faintly of detergent, and she tried not to be disappointed.
“You’re welcome,” he replied, his voice husky. Instead of sliding back to his cushion, he flung his arm over the back of the couch and leaned in until their legs touched. Mallory forced herself not to react, just in case he’d spook and pull away. She didn’t think she could handle not having him close right now.
Call it the storm, or maybe it was just being back in this old house with him, but Mallory never wanted to leave. She was desperate to cling to whatever part of Beckett he was willing to give her until he moved on. Because wasn’t that what always happened? Just when it seemed like they were on the same page, he’d up and leave town for one reason or another. In some ways she couldn’t fault him. She knew she was lucky growing up in a home with siblings and parents who loved her. Granted their version of love sometimes felt cloying, but they were her family. Now with Gramps gone, Beckett really didn’t have anyone.He has you,her traitorous heart chanted.He’s always had you.
Resting her head on Beckett’s shoulder, she asked the one question that had been on the tip of her tongue since they arrived. “How are you holding up?”
“Fine.” His response was too quick to be genuine, but Mallory wasn’t letting him off the hook.
“It’s okay if you’re not fine, you know. I know you want to help Evan with the wedding and everything, but you’re allowed to grieve.”
Staying silent for what felt like an eternity, Beckett finally cleared his throat. “I miss them.” His voice was so quiet, Mallory could hardly hear him over the pelting rain against the window. He didn’t often open up about his feelings, but when he did, it was best not to interrupt. Even the slightest distraction was an excuse to stop talking. So Mallory leaned closer and held her breath, knowing he’d fill in the gaps when he was ready.
*
The sun rose as italways did, filling the farm house with ribbons of sunlight. Bird song filled the air, proving the storm was long gone. Beckett woke with a headache that nearly blinded him and a sore ankle he’d love to forget. More importantly, Mallory was still plastered beside him. Her quiet snores mixed with the whistles from the birds, creating a symphony Beckett committed to memory.
Being back at the house was surreal. Beckett kept blinking, waiting for Gramps to saunter in from the kitchen, a can of his favorite beer in hand. Within thirty seconds of popping the top, Gram was by his side with a pot of herbal tea and a scowl on her face. “That’s not good for your heart,” she’d chide as she filled a mug they all knew Gramps wouldn’t touch.
“C’mon, woman, it’s been a day.” That was always Gramps’s excuse. Whether it was a good day or a bad day, the man wanted a beer with his nighttime TV watching.
Closing his eyes, Beckett rested his head on top of Mallory’s. She’d nestled against him, anchoring him to the present. He couldn’t lie, it was a good place to be. Sure, he wished his grandparents were here, but having his girl by his side certainly made the task of moving up bearable.
Go get your girl...
Gramps’s words ricocheted through his skull on a loop, as if the old man himself were sitting with them.
“The only consolation is that they’re together now,” he muttered on an exhale. Mallory didn’t react, just like he knew she would. Back when they were kids, Evan and Beckett would talk about all sorts of things. He never felt like Evan couldn’t handle the heavy stuff, but Mallory would listen. Evan had the right responses, platitudes that boys told each other to get onto the next thing. Mallory would hold your hand or sit next to you while you opened a vein and shared painful truths.
The biggest truth of the moment was that Beckett was lonely. The solace he got from knowing his grandparents were reunited in the Great Beyond was tainted by the fact that he was now alone. After the funerals, his father barely contacted him. Gramps’s will was iron clad, confirming everything was left to Beckett. The farm, the house, what little money remained...it all went to Beckett.
He remembered the look on the lawyer’s face when he read it, surprised that their only son didn’t receive a dime. For as shocked as Beckett was, his father was not. Unlike with his mother’s death, Mike Fox hadn’t bothered to show up. His attorney had contacted the estate’s attorney, and when he learned the truth, he didn’t bother coming back to Ohio.
Despite how painful their interaction at Gram’s funeral had been, Beckett wanted to see his father at Gramp’s. He’d hoped the shock of losing both parents would jump start a paternal gene in his father; that he’d want to come out and check on his boy. It was almost like the death of his parents freed Beckett’s own father from coming back to Ohio—and Beckett still didn’t know how to feel about that. Was no father better than a callous one?
In a weak moment the day before the funeral, Beckett reached out to his mom. He thought him calling would be enough for her to take it seriously, but she let his calls go to voicemail. Rather than calling her son to see how he was doing, she sent a few text messages lamenting her busy schedule with his half-brothers and step-dad. Message received; she didn’t care about what her firstborn needed.
Beckett shuddered at the memory, feeling the prickle of tears behind his eyes. He really didn’t want to cry right now, especially in front of Mallory. She’d seen him cry before, but he wasn’t in the mood for it now.
“Morning,” she muttered, yawning into his chest as she wiggled awake.
