Page 42 of Forever to Fall
“God, I want that,” Mallory sighed.
“Can’t have him,” Alice replied, poking her friend in the side until she giggled. “But you can have that with Beckett if you put yourself out there.”
“I’m tired of putting myself out there,” Mallory whined like a bratty child.
“Then you might have to get used to being single, my dear. I learned the hard way that nothing is worth keeping if you don’t fight for it.”
“I think you’re right, again.”
Alice pulled herself to her feet and stretched. “I know, now let’s get some sleep. Nothing you can do now except enjoy the impending hangover.”
That wasn’t entirely true, as Mallory lay awake for hours staring at the ceiling. Images of her past with Beckett sped through her mind at warp speed—the good, the bad, and the beautiful moments. When he kissed her at the farm house, she felt a piece of herself clink into place for the first time in years. Being with Beckett felt like being home, and she knew she had to fight for that if she wanted to move forward with him in her life.
It was all easier said than done, and Mallory knew they had to talk to Evan. Her brother meant the world to her, and she hated the notion that she was hurting him with her secrets. Yet it seemed like poor form to stress the groom out before his wedding, although the pang in her chest told her that might be inevitable. It was time to break the Beckett cycle, to decide if they were worth fighting for.
Mallory had her answer, and she could only hope Beckett had his.
CHAPTER 13
Mallory had ignoredhis calls and texts for a full twenty-four hours, and Beckett could not blame her. Not one bit. He was a coward of the highest order, and hated himself. The only saving grace was that he could hobble around without the blasted crutches and drive himself again. It was a small victory, but he’d take it.
Beckett’s job as a virtual accountant was perfect for times like these—days when all he wanted to do was bury himself in work and hide away from the rest of the world. The sun hung low outside the kitchen window, and Beckett felt his stomach growl. Unlike his time with Mallory, he knew he couldn’t survive on takeout alone. Not to mention, there was no way in hell he’d be able to stomach Frizz and Freeze until they were back on solid ground. Just the thought of it made his body revolt.
Tidying up his work, Beckett attempted to make the kitchen a kitchen again. When Gramps was on the decline, he kept his office upstairs in his room. He wanted to be close by in case the older man needed anything. Now he was downstairs hiding away from all possible memories of the past, and it suited him fine.
Well, maybe not his back. In his haste to avoid his grandparent’s room, he slept on the couch last night. At least when Mallory was there it was fun and cozy—and very sexy. But a guy nearing thirty couldn’t pretend his back was invincible. Much like his heart, he needed to give it extra care. What a depressing reality.
The sound of gravel crunching alerted him to a visitor. Unable to play it cool, Beckett sprinted toward the front door, only to trip over one of his sneakers and tumble against the wall. Unfortunately, it was his busted hand that broke his fall, and a bolt of pain shot right up his arm. A few choice profanities later, and he was back on his feet. It was Mallory, it had to be. There was no way she wouldn’t come back and check on him, right? Didn’t nurses have to follow the Hippocratic oath?
“Foxy!” Evan’s voice boomed from beyond the door, and Beckett grimaced. He loved his buddy, like a brother, but right now, he wasn’t in the mood for sunshine vibes. He was in the mood for sulking and beating himself up.Although if Evan knew why I was hiding out, he’d probably take care of the beating-up part...
Beckett ran his hands through his red hair, attempting to make it look less disheveled. His glasses had a smear of ketchup on the left lens, but he wasn’t worrying about that now. Throwing the door open, he was greeted to the aroma of chili cheese fries and cholesterol.
“Hey, man.” Evan shoved past with a literal armload of food. “I swung by your place and saw it was still dark, so I thought I’d take a field trip.”
Evan strode into the kitchen and made himself at home, pulling out plates and glasses while he set up their spread. Despite wanting anything but more fried food—and painful memories—Beckett took his seat at the table and moved a stack of files to the side. “Thanks, I was just about to search for dinner.”
