I looked at him, confused as to why he was telling me this. We didn’t police each other’s nightly habits.
“Okay?” The word came out of my mouth in a drawl.
“What is your endgame with Odette?”
“What the fuck, Beckett?” I was taken aback by the prompt question.
“Just answer me, Ryker.” He ran a hand over his face, clearly frustrated. “Do you plan to marry her? What are you doing?”
“Fuck, yeah, if she’ll have me, but this is new Beckett. We are enjoying our time together as is. We love each other, and that’s all I have.”
“Okay.” Beckett nodded his head up and down and took a deep breath. He looked disheveled. His normally tucked-in shirt was half out of his wrinkled jeans. His hair looked like it was standing on end, like he had slept wrong or hadn’t slept at all. “Then have a good evening.”
He started to walk toward the door, but I stood in front of him, stopping him.
“Oh, no you fucking don’t.” I held my hand out against his chest, not letting him pass. “You don’t get to come in here and try to interrogate me without an explanation.”
“I’m leaving.” His words were clipped, and he wasn’t looking me in the eyes. Something else was going on here.
“Nope.” I let the ‘P’ pop.
“I’m going over to Jemma’s.”
“Okay?” My word was a question again. I knew he’d been sneaking over to see Jemma most nights. It wasn’t like he was trying to hide it any longer. I was more confused as to why he was acting this way about it. Hell, we’d been over at Odette’s last night helping protect her house. When Jemma messaged me, I told Beckett to get in my truck, and off we went. No questions—just a yes—and we were over at their houses.
“Yep.” He let his ‘P’ pop this time, too.
We stared each other down, and I finally realized why he was asking me. If we were both involved with best friends and something happened, it could be disastrous. It could break what we all had going on. My relationship, theirs.
Shit, I hadn’t thought this would happen.
“Well, then.”
“I have no fucking idea what we are doing.” Beckett’s shoulders deflated. “I just wanted to know how serious this is between you and Odette, especially after going over there last night. I need to know if I need to draw a line with Jemma. Stop whatever we are doing.”
“You don’t need to do that.” I cut into Beckett’s rant. “We are all grown-ups, and it’s clear something is brewing between you two.”
“Dude,” Beckett ran a hand over his face and stared up at the ceiling. “She’s a firecracker. She’s a spitfire who I have no idea how to nail down, but I’m fucking trying.”
“Damn, dude, I’ve never seen you like this.”
“I feel like I’m running toward something that keeps running away. I’ve always been able to get what I want, but never Jemma.”
I raised an eyebrow as another knock came from the door behind me. I knew it was Odette this time.
Beckett reached behind me, answering the door.
“Beckett,” Odette said his name in surprise as he said hello and left abruptly. We watched as he walked away, and once he was out of earshot, I pulled Odette into my arms.
“He’s headed over to see Jemma,” I explained.
“He’s really good for her.” She gave me a soft smile.
“She seems good for him, too; she keeps him on his toes.” I laughed. “But he came over first because he was worried about us.”
“Oh.” Odette’s head cocked to the side.
“Don’t worry, my love.” I kissed the top of her head and led her inside and toward my office. I needed to go live in a few minutes. It was enough time to get her set up and get me on the microphone. “Your station, my lady.”
