She moved closer, until she was standing beside him at the counter. “Has this happened before?”
“A few times when I first got here.” He finally looked at her, his gray-blue eyes carefully neutral. “It’s been a while.”
“Who do you think wrote it?”
“Does it matter?”
“Yes,” she insisted. “It matters.”
He set down the knife and faced her fully. “Why? What would you do if you knew?”
The question caught her off guard. What would she do? Confront them? Demand an apology? And then what?
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “But it’s wrong. You don’t deserve that.”
Something flickered across his face, too quick to read. “It’s okay, Tessa. I’ve dealt with worse.”
The quiet resignation in his voice broke something inside her. She thought about all he’d endured. Fifteen years in prison. Starting over with nothing. And now this. “It’s not okay. And you shouldn’t have to just accept it.”
“What’s the alternative? Make a scene? Prove them right about me?” He turned back to the lunch preparation.
“They’re not right about you.”
He looked at her then, really looked at her, and the vulnerability in his eyes made her breath catch. “Weren’t you thinking the same thing when you first got here? That I was dangerous? That I didn’t belong in your father’s house?”
The truth of his words stung. She had thought exactly that. She had resented his presence and questioned his motives. She had seen the ex-con instead of the man.
“Yes, I did. And I was wrong,” she admitted.
He seemed surprised by her candor.
“I judged you without knowing you, and that was unfair. But I know you now, Beckett. I’ve seen how you are with my dad and with the town. You’re a good man.”
He looked away, uncomfortable with her praise. “We should get your dad up for lunch.”
But she wasn’t ready to let it go. “Why didn’t you tell me about the note?”
He sighed. “What good would it do? Some people won’t ever see past what I did. I’ve accepted that.”
“Well, I haven’t. And you shouldn’t either.”
“Tessa.” His voice was gentle but firm. “This isn’t your battle.”
“Maybe it should be.” The words surprised her as much as they seemed to surprise him. “Maybe it’s time someone fought for you for a change.”
Their eyes met, and something shifted in the air between them. Something warm and electric that made her heart beat faster.
“Why would you do that?” he asked softly.
Because I care about you, she wanted to say. Because you deserve better. Because when I’m with you, I feel more like myself than I have in years.
But before she could find the words, her father called from the living room, breaking the moment.
“Lunch ready yet? I’m starving out here.”
Beckett stepped back, and the connection between them faded as quickly as it had formed. “Coming right up,” he called.
He turned to grab plates from the cabinet, his expression once again carefully neutral. “We should get him in the kitchen for lunch.”
