Then, the summer between third and fourth year, he changed. He came back still mild-mannered, still quiet, and still obsessed with all things middle earth, but gone was the skinny guy who looked like he couldn’t bench press a puppy. In his place was a toned, muscular, but still lean man who exuded way more confidence in himself. The shyness had morphed into an inner calm that radiated from him.
I almost gave in to the budding attraction between us that year. Even before the physical changes, I liked Beckett for who he was. It drew me in from the start, and when he came back all beefed up but still the same person inside, it was not easy to resist the pull I felt toward him. Especially since I knew right away Beckett wanted more than friendship from me. But he respected me and my boundaries. I knew it had to be me to change the parameters of our relationship, because he wouldn’t.
And I couldn’t.
Because love is a lie. Love leads to pain, and heartache, and grief, and loss. At least, it does for me.
Not even my own parents loved me enough to stay.
Okay, now that I’m an adult and not an irrational kid trying to cope with the death of her parents, I know that’s not true. I know their love for me had nothing to do with them dying in a car accident when I was eleven. But it became easier to shut myself off from those kinds of emotions than face them and deal with the loss I felt.
So even though Beckett Donnelly became my closest friend, the one person to see me and accept me, rough edges and all, I never let myself acknowledge any feelings for him more than friendship.
And just because we’re married now, it doesn’t mean that’s ever going to change. It can’t change.
Because I can’t lose him, too.
Several hours later, I find myself staring out of a small airplane window at the dark sky as we wing across Canada. We’ll land in Victoria soon, then drive up the island to Dogwood Cove. As the distance between me and Cliveden grows, the pressure on me lightens. The weight of that town’s judgment fades. But the pain of leaving my parents and grandfather behind doesn’t.
I know I’ll have to go back and deal with Grandpa’s house soon; hell, even my own apartment needs to be packed up so the building manager can rent it out to someone else. But that’s a problem for the future.
Turning my head to the side, I take in Beckett’s profile. His eyes are closed, his earbuds in. He said he was going to try and sleep a bit, but I don’t know if he actually is.
Husband.
That’s so strange. I never thought I’d have one, and I definitely never expected it to be Beckett. Then again, if I ever had to choose someone to spend my life with, or even a significant portion of it, Beck’s the kind of guy I’d choose.
“I can feel you staring at me.”
His eyes open, and a small smile graces his face. There’s a light shadow of stubble on his face, giving him a more rakish look than normal. It suits him, in a way. Just like the hoodie and sweatpants he’s wearing show a more casual side of him that is comforting in its familiarity. This is the Beck from before, from late-night study sessions and weekend movie marathons.
“Sorry,” I say, shifting in my seat. I turn to face forward, but a large hand lands on my leg that I hadn’t realized was bouncing up and down.
“S’okay. Do you need anything?”
“No. I’m fine.”
This time, I’m the one who can feel the weight of his stare on me. I turn to face it head-on.
“It’s okay if you aren’t fine, Cam. You’re allowed to not be fine. This week has been a lot, it would be for anyone.”
I know he’s trying to be comforting, but I can’t help my automatic response, which is to get defensive of anyone implying there could be a hint of weakness in me. “I know that, Beck. I’m not a robot, but I’m really fine right now. Just go to sleep.” I shake off his hand and turn to face the window again.
I sense him watching me, just as I sense the hurt and confusion coming from him, and I feel like crap. But he knows how I am. He knows I don’t do feelings and shit. He knows the worst part of the last week has been all the uncontrollable emotions I’ve experienced. So he should know better than to push me to experience even more of them.
I hear his sigh and wait for him to say something. But thank God, he doesn’t. I should apologize. He’s just trying to help. Except I don’t know how to accept help; hell, I don’t know if I even want it. I might need it, but I don’twantto need it. I don’t want to need anything from anyone.
Forcing my eyes closed, I try to shut down the turmoil in my head. My thoughts are a jumbled mess, and I can’t make sense of anything.
All I can do is hope that marrying Beckett just so I can access some money wasn’t the worst decision I’ve ever made.
Chapter seven
Cam
“No, God, please no!” My eyes fly open as I sit up with a gasp. My heart is pounding and my skin feels clammy with sweat. Unfamiliar sheets are tangled around my legs, and it takes a second for me to remember where I am.
Dogwood Cove. Beckett’s house.
