If it were my brother or my parents, I would’ve felt the need to be strong. To prove I had it all together and I didn’t need any help. That I was totally and completely fine, despite all that’d happened tonight.
With Beck, I could just be me.
More than that, I didn’t even have to voice what I needed—he always just seemed to know.
I wasn’t sure if it’d been his scary eyes, his barked commands, or something else entirely, but I’d received excellent care—and a pair of scrubs to change into—at the hospital and had been given the all clear to go home.
Except I didn’t have a home to go back to anymore.
Ford, who’d offered to take Chuckanut with him for the night since we had no idea how long I’d be at the hospital, had called while I’d been getting checked out and let us know what was going on. The fire was out, and while the firefighters had been able to stop the flames from engulfing the clinic, my house was unlivable, if still standing, and there was at least smoke damage, if not more, to the rest of the dwelling.
I’d never been so happy to have fallen asleep on the couch downstairs instead of up in my bedroom as I was tonight. I’d been able to escape out of the house with Chuckanut under my arm, only obtaining a couple scrapes on my hands and some minor smoke inhalation that was more of a nuisance than anything. And thankfully, I hadn’t had any late-night appointments or overnight guests at the clinic.
I stared out the window while Beck drove, his hand resting in my lap as I held it tightly between mine. Even though it was too dark outside to see anything, I imagined the ocean spread out in front of us and the waves crashing against the shore. That was one thing I didn’t love about my home—it wasn’t on the beach. The rhythmic sound of the ocean always lulled me into serenity, so at least I’d have that while I stayed at the resort and figured out what the hell to do next.
Beck pulled to a stop and turned off the truck with his left hand, leaving his right encased in mine. I glanced up, expecting to see the main inn, except we were behind the diner at the back entrance to his apartment.
“Why are we here?” I asked, my voice scratchy and raw. “I still need to get checked in.”
“The fuck you do,” he said, the words coming out as a sharp demand. He’d been in his default barking mode tonight, but I wasn’t surprised. That was his go-to when he didn’t feel completely in control. And there was no way he’d feel in control of this. I’d never seen him look so disheveled when he’d shown up at the fire, his face drained of color as he’d frantically searched the area for me.
Because I knew he was dealing with this in his own way, I just raised a brow in response.
He closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose as he inhaled deeply before slowly releasing it. Then, in a calmer tone than he’d used before, he said, “You’re staying with me.”
“Beck, I don’t—”
“You’re staying with me,” he said again, his voice firm but not quite the sharp command it had been.
I’d been to Beck’s place more times than I could count—his recliners were perfect for movie nights—same as he’d been to mine, but this felt different. And there was the small issue that his apartment had a single bedroom and no couch, just two comfortable as all get-out leather chairs. But that was a problem for Future Everly to face. Present Everly was too exhausted to worry about it.
“Okay.”
He must’ve been preparing for a fight because his whole body relaxed at the single word. “Okay?”
“Yeah, okay.”
“Right, okay, great.” He jumped out of the truck and was around to my side before I could even fumble with the handle to get the door opened. “C’mon.” And then he reached over, unbuckled my seat belt, and lifted me straight into his arms, kicking the door shut behind us as he carried me up the steps to his apartment.
“Are you serious right now?”
“What?” Brows pinched, he glanced down at me, the sharp angles of his face so much more pronounced in the shadows.
“I can walk.”
“You don’t have any shoes, remember?”
No, actually, I hadn’t remembered, and my throat tightened as I tried to swallow around the lump lodged there. The fire had been so hot already when I’d woken up, too close to do anything but grab Chuckanut and run. I hadn’t been able to save anything from my house—not pictures or the quilt my mom had made me or Aunt Shirley’s string of pearls—except my dog and my phone that’d been right next to me. Which meant I didn’t have any shoes at all anymore. I didn’t haveanythingat all anymore.
Beck made a gruff sound in the back of his throat as he stared down at me. “I’ll take care of it.”
I knew he would—that was Beck for you—but I couldn’t find my voice to tell him it was about so much more than the shoes. My whole life had just gone up in flames—literally—and where did that leave me? Instead of telling him any of that, I just swallowed down my tears and nodded as he guided us into his space. He set me down on the kitchen counter, then braced his palms on either side of my hips. His hands were curled into fists, his face tight, and tension radiated from the stiff line of his shoulders.
And because he wouldn’t initiate anything but I could tell this was something he needed just as much as I did, I wrapped myself around him and held him to me. He was frozen for a few seconds, then his body relaxed as he brought his arms around me, enveloping me in warmth and comfort, and I breathed in his scent that I’d come to think of as home.
It could’ve been minutes or seconds later when he pulled away to grab me a water out of the fridge. “Drink this.”
I mock saluted him but took the proffered bottle anyway because my throat was killing me. “Thanks.”
