“So, we’re good?”
He pressed a kiss to my forehead. “We’re good.”
“Good, then give me something else to think about. Tell me about your day. What were you doing before I came home?”
Something flared in his eyes, but it was gone before I could identify it. “Cooking Chuck dinner.”
“Her name isChuckanut—”
“Dumbest name I’ve ever heard,” he grumbled under his breath.
“And I bought her food.” I tipped my chin toward the bags he’d carried up. “You don’t have to make anything for her.”
He scoffed. “You call that dry garbage you buy in bulkfood? You’re not feeding her that shit anymore.”
“Beck.” I rubbed my eyes, scrubbing away the last of my tears, both grateful that he’d been able to shift my mood so quickly and exasperated with him all over again. “It’s not shit. I’m a vet, and I promise you I’m not feeding her garbage.”
He stared down at me, brow raised. “Are you feeding her fresh, all-organic ingredients?”
“Well…no.”
“Then it’s garbage.”
I breathed out a laugh and shook my head, more grateful for him than I could possibly articulate, but I needed to try. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For taking care of me and Chuckanut and letting us stay here and paying for everything today—I’ll pay you back as soon as I get my replacement cards—and knowing that I needed wine and Starbursts without my saying a word.”
“You don’t have to thank me for any of that.”
“No, I do. And I need to—” I gasped, suddenly realizing what day it was, and sat up straight, darting my eyes all over his face to gauge his mood. “It’s Wednesday! Are you okay?”
Probably an odd question since I was the one with tear tracks down their face, but a fair one, nonetheless. When I’d first arrived in Starlight Cove, he’d kept to himself on Wednesdays—always closed off in the mornings and never anywhere to be found the rest of the day. At least until I’d accidentally run into him one week. He’d been grumpier than usual, so I’d dragged him up to his apartment and forced him to watchHouse Hunters: Comedians on Coucheswith me because I figured he’d enjoy how they completely roasted the couples.
That’d been the start of our Wednesday ritual, and it had continued every week since. But it hadn’t been until a few months ago that he’d actually told mewhyhe was always in such a foul mood on those days. He hadn’t had to swear me to secrecy—that was an unspoken agreement regarding everything in our friendship and something I’d just known from how he held things so close to his chest—but we hadn’t really talked about it since. I only knew that he and Ford dropped some things off for their dad—who, apparently, lived on the property, but whom I’d never once seen in my two years in Starlight Cove.
Beck made a gruff sound in the back of his throat, his eyes scanning my features as if to make sure I wasn’t about to have another breakdown. “Don’t worry about me.”
“But worrying about you takes my mind off all the things I should be worrying about forme.”
“Let me worry about all the things for you, all right?” Before I could answer, he stood with me still in his arms.
“What are we doing?”
“Weare going to sit outside on the roof, listen to the ocean, and stare up at the stars.Youare going to drink your wine and relax while I figure out what needs to happen so I don’t have to watch you cry again.” He leaned over to grab my glass, and I squeaked, tightening my arms around his neck, though the single hand on my ass held me to him just fine.
“You think I’m going to drop you?” With a raised brow, he stood upright like he hadn’t been seconds away from letting me land flat on my face and strode to the back window that opened up to the roof.
It wasn’t exactly a deck and definitely wasn’t up to code, considering there was no railing, which was probably why he loved going out there so much. It was his space. Whenever I’d come by on Wednesday nights and let myself into the apartment, he would be just climbing in from outside. This, though, was the first time he’d ever invited me out there with him.
“Well, you almost did,” I said.
“I’d never let you fall.” And the way he said the words, the soft timbre of his voice against the shell of my ear, sounded like he was talking about an awful lot more than just dropping me.
CHAPTERFIFTEEN
BECK
