Page 103 of Tangled Up

I look up at him. “Okay?”

It’s a difficult topic, but we can do this. We need to do it if we’re going to move forward. I’m sure he wants to know how I feel, if I’m still in mourning. He needs to know I made peace with what happened years ago.

“I don’t think you know everything about the night he died.” He shakes his head. “I know you don’t know everything.”

My brow furrows. I don’t expect to start with this, and the tension in his body has me confused. “What do you mean?”

“The night he died.” He pauses as if searching for the right words, and my heart beats faster. “I was a new resident, doing my rounds in the ER. We’d had a busy day, coming off a ten-hour shift, and the doctor on duty took a short break. I was alone when they brought him in.”

Beck exhales heavily, looking up at the sky, and I put my hand on his arm. He’s right, I didn’t know this, and I don’t know what to say as he leans forward, lowering to sit on the dry sand. I drop to my knees beside him, placing my hand on his shoulder.

“I’d hated him for so long for keeping you away from me, and there he was, dying on that table.” He passes a hand over his mouth. “I did my best to put it all aside. I did everything I could to save him… But I didn’t.”

Pressing my lips together, I don’t know what to say. I’m sorting through it all, wondering how it happened.

“I never knew you were there,” I say quietly. “Your name isn’t on any of the records.”

“The supervising doctor took responsibility. He said I did everything I could. Tyler would have died even if we’d had a more experienced practitioner present.” The waves gently fold in front of us, hissing against the dry sand, and Beck lifts heavy eyes to mine. “I believed it was because I wanted it to happen. It was a test, and I failed.”

My heart aches, and I can see he’s carried this since it happened. I see the trauma in his expression.

When I speak, it’s gentle. “But… the doctor said you did everything you could. Was he right?”

Beck blinks out to the rolling waves, hesitating before he answers. “I was so green.”

Moving to sit beside him, I consider how hard this must be. I was grief-stricken by the loss, but I wasn’t in the room when it happened. “Do you believe you could have somehow saved his life?”

He shakes his head. “I had an entire team of experienced nurses and staff with me. We did all we could do.”

Placing my hand on his arm again, I gently pull him around to face me. “Then you have your answer. I can only imagine losing a patient is devastating. Don’t compound it with our situation.”

He looks at my hand on his arm before covering it with his own. “But he was the thing standing in the way, keeping me from ever having you again.”

The waves crash at our ankles, and I place my hand on his cheek, guiding his eyes back to mine. “I don’t blame you for his death.” I give him a moment to hear my words. “I love you, Beck. I’ve always loved you. Tyler was good to me. He comforted me when I was alone, and I’ve always been grateful for him… But he was never you.”

His eyes close, and I lean forward to kiss him slowly.

Our mouths open, and our tongues curl together. Warmth surges in my chest, and the healing comes. I move closer to put my arms around his shoulders, hugging him to me as I feel the tension ease from his body.

When his eyes meet mine, they’re changed. “You forgive me?”

I cup his cheeks. “How could I not?”

Lifting his chin, he pulls me into another hug. “I never stopped loving you a day in my life. I didn’t know how, but I knew we’d be together. You had to be mine, and now you are.”

“I am.”

He doesn’t miss a beat. Leaning back, he reaches into his breast pocket and takes out a small, velvet box. “When you told me about being with my mom, walking through the house, and sharing her favorite things, I realized she’d want you to have this.”

My lips part. “If this is what I think it is…”

He grins, and that dimple is in his cheek. He pries the small box open, and my eyes widen at the sight of what looks like a glittering drop of water on a white gold band.

“Caroline Ann Dennison, with this ring of my mother’s and my grandmother’s, I’m asking you to marry me. I want you to be my family, and I know those amazing women would too. Will you be my wife?”

Squeezing my eyes shut, I try to slow my heart rate. “You think they would want me?”

“Yes,” he laughs. “But you haven’t answered my question.”

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