15
RILEY
Age 15
The dog clumsily followed me, stumbling over the uneven ground. He was still adjusting to walking with three legs, but I was happy he was healing from the impalement in his hip. I still needed to convince Grandpa he belonged with me because I couldn’t imagine this dog being with anyone else.
I spread a blanket out on the ground as I lay down, the sound of crashing waves in the distance were just what I needed tonight. The scent of fresh popcorn wafting up from the bag made me glad I’d brought a snack… our snacks. Popcorn, Twizzlers, orange soda, and peanut clusters. I took a bite of a peanut cluster, finally allowing Beckett’s face to fill my mind. I’d been careful not to think about him all day, trying to get through another day of work at the deli. But it was over now, and I was here. I was with Beckett, in the only way I could be now.
I stared up at the stars, reaching out to hold the handle of the big dipper, just like we used to. I wondered what Beckett would say he’d fill it with this time if he were here.
“Happy birthday, Beckett,” I said to the open air. “Nineteen today, huh? I hope you’re having fun, wherever you are.” My throat threatened to close with those words and I allowed the sadness to come, crashing over me like the waves against the beach. No one else was here to see it anyway. It was safe to cry here. “I miss you. I miss you so fucking much.”
The German Shepherd mix lying beside me licked my cheek and rested his head on my chest, sensing my distress. That’s when the dog’s name finally came to me.
“How about Quinn?” I asked him softly. The dog immediately lifted his head and looked at me with those huge amber eyes. I smiled at his obvious approval. “My other best friend had the same name,” I said, scratching his ear. “Well, his middle name was Quinn anyway, but that’s okay. I like that name for you.” I looked back at the stars, and for the first time in a while, felt a little bit of peace settle over me.
***
Black plumes of smoke rose from the oven and the horrid smell of burnt bread filled my nostrils when I reached the kitchen. My heart was still hammering in my chest and not only from the smoke alarm blaring in my ears.
Beckett was trying to figure out how to open the windows while I fanned the smoke. “They’re doors to the patio,” I called out to him. “Hit that button on the wall two times.”
He did what I said then stepped back in awe as the two large sliding glass doors opened to reveal magnetically closed screen panels.
“Damn! That’s awesome,” he said with a grin.
“Part of the old ventilation system,” I explained. “My grandfather added the porch after I bought it. Hit the fan, would you? It’s right there.”
He flipped the switch then joined me in the kitchen. When he noticed I was fighting back tears, he put a hand on my back. “Hey, it’s just bread. It’s okay.”
I scraped the pieces in the trash. “I know, I just wanted this to be perfect.”
“Well, I think it’s off to a great start. I already got to kiss the guy,” he said, tucking me in to his side for a quick hug, clearly still on a high from the unexpected turn of events.
I felt my cheeks bloom red—damn, I hated that I blushed so easily—so I made myself busy by spooning the stew into bowls while Beckett took the salad to the table. We ate in a comfortable silence, occasionally sharing a quick glance or shy smile. He reached over and squeezed my hand a few times, sending ripples of pleasure through me. I may have snuck my hand under the table and pinched myself a couple times, just to be sure it was real because, holy crap!Beckett kissed me!
“This is delicious,” he said, lifting his spoon.
“Thanks. You probably remember that Tracy was teaching me how to cook before I left.” Beckett nodded. “Well, I also spent a lot of time hanging out in the kitchen the first few years I was with Grandpa. Kind of a hideout, I guess.”
I could tell Beckett wanted to ask why I felt the need to hide, but he chose not to. “You enjoy it, though? Cooking, I mean.”
“I do.”
“Well, that’s good. I’m awful, just so you know. Like, horrible. That,” he pointed over his shoulder at the trash can that now held the charred bread, “is something I do almost every time I’m in the kitchen. Pretty sure I’ve burned water, too.”
I laughed. “Live on take-out, do you? Why does that not surprise me?”
“Tosh feeds me, too. Or my friend Jake. But yeah, mostly take-out.”
Something passed between us as we looked at one another and I couldn’t quite understand it. I wanted to believe it was the kindling of a new beginning, but I couldn’t be sure.
“Maybe that could change if…” The words slipped from my mouth before I could stop them, and I immediately dropped my eyes, wishing I could take them back. “Sorry. Nevermind,” I quickly murmured, setting my spoon down and reaching for a napkin, suddenly too nervous to eat.
Beckett reached over and laced our fingers together, lifting them to his lips. “I hope it’ll change, too, Ry.”
After dinner, Beckett helped me clean up the kitchen while glancing around. “You know, I think my entire apartment could fit in this kitchen.”
