“I can do something about this,” he whispers, but I shake my head.
“No, no, no, please don’t. I just want to move on. I don’t want to do anything. I don’t want to.”
I’m being childish. But the thought of trying to sue Carter or anything like that makes me sick to my stomach. The idea of that video resurfacing or having to talk about what I went through to people makes me want to throw myself off a building.
“Hey, ok, ok. I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to. But you do realize the situation you’ve put me in.”
I freeze, in the moment, I didn’t even think about the fact that he is an officer. I didn’t even think about how this would look to him, what I’d be asking of him, by not wanting to talk.
“Beckett, I’m so so—” He cuts me off before I can finish. I take a breath, still trying to calm myself down.
“It’s ok. Don’t you dare apologize. Thank you for telling me,” he says, pulling me so that my head rests against his chest. I let myself melt into his comfort.
I lay here in his arms, feeling safe and just a little lighter. His fingers dance over my skin, soothing me as he places a gentle kiss on the top of my head.
If only I were yours, Beckett Hayes.The thought doesn’t scare me as it should. The thought of us being something makes me smile. The thought of belonging to someone as gentle and as kind as him makes me want to be better. I’m not sure what he sees in me, but as I lie in his arms surrounded by his scent, I know one thing for certain: I never want to leave.
“Thank you for listening,” I whisper.
“Thank you for telling me,” he replies, pressing another gentle kiss to the top of my head.
I melt into him, and before I even know it, I’m fast asleep.
13
BECKETT
“Do you want to run to the store with me?” I ask. I hadn’t planned on going to the store this late. But apparently, I’d do just about anything to get her to talk to me. She looks up from her computer, staring at me for a long moment as if she is deciding if she should come with me or not.
She shuts her laptop and sets it on the coffee table. “Sure, let me go grab my shoes,” she says, running upstairs before coming back down with shoes and her hair up in one of those clip things.
“Ready?” I ask, she nods, pocketing her phone without a word.
“Did you have a good day?” I ask as we get into my pickup. I don’t want to sit in silence the whole time. I also don’t want this to be our new normal for the whole summer either.
“Yeah, it was fine,” she says, her body turned away from me as she looks out the window.
I nod, figuring that it would be best to just shut my mouth instead of trying to have small talk with a brick wall.
We walk wordlessly down the aisles, both of us grabbing what we need. I’m not sure what’s wrong, but I feel as though the middle of a grocery store aisle is not the right place to ask those kinds of questions.
The whole trip is silent, which is very odd for her. It reminds me of the old Sloane, and I don’t like it.
“No,” I say when she tries to separate our stuff. “I got it,” I say gently, taking away the little plastic separator and pushing her stuff into mine.
“It’s fine, I can pay for my own things,” she mumbles, trying to take the plastic bar from me.
“I never said that you couldn’t. I said I got it,” I say firmly, but not harshly.
She glares at me. “I’m paying for my own shit.”
I raise an amused eyebrow at her. “Are you now?”
“Yes, this is me standing up for myself,” she mutters, trying to move her items down the belt so that there’s some space between the two groups.
“You’re not supposed to stand up for yourself when I’m just trying to be nice,” I say, pushing her stuff back to mine.
Her glare sharpens. “Knock it off, Beckett,” she says, but I see the smallest smile try to fight its way onto her face.
