“Stevie,” he whispers, his eyes already losing a fighting battle.
“Yeah?”
“Thank you for being here.”
“That’s what friends are for.”
ChapterFifty-Two
Stevie
Beck is softly snoring five minutes later with the covers only pulled up to his waist, exposing the top half of his body. I tap out a quick text to Hadley before choosing some music and settling back in the chair.
I can’t help inspecting every visible inch of Beck while he sleeps as Halsey’s dulcet tones whisper in my ears.
The cropped hairstyle he favors showcases his exquisite face in all its magnificence. He looks so much younger than twenty-seven in sleep. There’s a boyish innocence to his face that is hidden during the waking hours. Long lashes fan over high cheekbones, and little puffs of air trickle from his full lips. The hair on his chin and cheeks and above his mouth is denser than usual, but it works for him.
His chest rises and falls in deep slumber, highlighting the definition of his body. His upper torso and his biceps are ripped without being ridiculously muscular. I know he works out and runs daily, but damn, his body is a work of art with an expanse of unblemished olive skin over sculpted muscles in all the right places.
I haven’t really noticed it before, but Beck is absolutely beautiful in a totally masculine way.
I force my eyes to look away as the acknowledgment lands in my thoughts. No good can come from thinking those things.
I wake to a gentle shaking sensation, groaning as I move my stiff neck.
“You fell asleep in the chair,” Beck says, crouching over me with concern in his eyes. “You looked really uncomfortable. I’m sorry. I didn’t even offer you the guest bed.”
“It’s fine,” I say over a yawn. “I knew I could sleep in one of the other rooms, but I didn’t want to leave you in case you were sick during the night.”
Beck sits on the side of his bed, wearing only light gym shorts. He smooths a hand back and forth across his hair. “I am so sorry for last night, Stevie.”
“You have nothing to apologize for.” I rub the back of my sore neck.
“I do. I haven’t replied to any of your calls or messages. I can’t imagine what you were thinking.”
“Beck, it’s okay.”
“It’s not. I…” Propping his elbows on his knees, he buries his face in his hands.
I move over and sit beside him on the bed. “You can talk to me. About anything. It works both ways. You have been there for me, and I want to be here for you now. I know you’re hurting. I know this is about Brielle, and I want you to know you can tell me anything. I won’t judge. I know what it’s like to carry so much guilt it feels like you’re suffocating.”
Tormented brown eyes lift to my green ones. “You’re going to think so little of me.”
“That is an impossibility.”
His tongue darts out, wetting his dry lips, and my eyes track the motion. When I look up, Beck’s eyes are glued to my mouth. The tension from last night is back, and that same fluttering feeling erupts in my chest. I shift awkwardly on the bed, avert my eyes, and focus on my lap.
Beck clears his throat after a few seconds. “I left some supplies in the bathroom if you want to take a shower or a bath.”
I raise my chin.
“My sisters have toiletries and clothes here. I think Sarah’s stuff should fit, so I left a few things out for you. I know she won’t mind.” He stands, wrapping his arms around his trim waist. “I’m going to walk down to the local bakery and grab us some coffees and croissants if you like?”
“That sounds good.” I cough to clear the dryness from my tone.
“Okay.” Beck rubs the back of his neck. “I’ll leave you to it,” he says, making a beeline for his walk-in closet while I hightail it to the bathroom.
When I emerge from his bathroom thirty minutes later, in Sarah’s ripped jeans and an off-the-shoulder T-shirt, I feel invigorated after my shower but a little on edge. Something is different between us, or maybe it’s nerves because I don’t know what he has to tell me, and I hope it doesn’t make a liar of me. I make my way toward the door, setting out to find Beck when he calls out to me.
