Page 15 of Seven Summers Ago
I shoot him a glare. “You’re not the boss of me,” I bite out.
“No. Maybe not. But you aremy wife.”
He holds my eyes captive. I want to be angry with him. But the way he said “my wife” has my emotions and my body reacting in a traitorous way. My skin buzzes and sends a signal between my thighs in an electrifying wakeup call.
“Okay…” Stella interrupts by stepping in between us and I find myself gasping for a full breath. “I think it’s time we got going.”
“Already? But Milo just got here,” Jack argues.
“I can take Rosie back to Dottie’s,” Beck suggests. My mouth pops open, ready to argue, but then he continues. “There’s some things we need to talk about.”
Stella looks at me, her dark brows raised in question. Confusion mixes with the alcohol and causes my brain tooverload. Part of me wants to go with Beck. He’s connected to every memory I have in Golden Harbor.
But in my current state, I fear I will say something I’ll regret. Or hell,dosomething I’ll regret. I don’t trust my consciousness to make choices for me in this state.
When I glance down to compose myself and shake away this strange desire for Beck, the weight of the sparkling diamond on my finger is the reminder I need. “It’s fine, Beck can drop me off on his way. I need to get some sleep. Big day tomorrow.”
Stella gives me a hug, but before she lets me go, she whispers into my hair so only I can hear. “We’ll bring Charlie home soon.”
My mind snags on Charlie’s name. Is tonight the night I tell Beck about his daughter? Or will it be better when I can form coherent thoughts and sentences? Do I wait until Dottie’s memorial, or tell him afterward so we don’t cause a scene?
“Thank you.”
Beck says goodbye to Milo, and I follow reluctantly. At the door, he opens it and ushers me out first. I roll my eyes as I pass. Whatever that feeling was for Beck, it’s fleeting. Chalk it up to alcohol and muscle memory.
The night is clear, the sky dark and spanning with bright stars. Despite the blanket of warmth in the air, I cross my arms. “I may have agreed to you driving me home, but I never agreed to talking.”
“Fine.” He bends, sticking his head in my personal space and forcing me to make eye contact with him. “Then I’ll do the talking and you can just sit there and listen. How about that?”
“Ugh.” I drag out the word on an exaggerated groan.
He opens the passenger door for me. My gaze scans the bold black letters on the side of his truck before I climb inside:Stone Construction.
My stomach drops. I want to be hurt at the realization that when Beck finally accomplished his dream job, I wasn’t aroundto witness it. “You actually did it. You started a construction company?” Grabbing on to the handle, I grip it, and when I pull myself up, pain shoots through my entire core, landing in my butt. I audibly hiss and he props a sturdy hand underneath my elbow, helping me inside with the kind of care and gentleness I remember well.
“How?” I exhale a low breath. “With what money?” I narrow my eyes, my legs still hanging out the door. “Are you selling drugs or something?”
Beck barks out a laugh and it rumbles in my chest. I purse my lips. “You’re not the only one who made something of themselves, ya know?” He shoves my legs inside the truck. “Some of us didn’t have to leave Golden Harbor to do it.” He shuts the door and stomps around the front to the driver’s side.
“I didn’t go to Seattle just to start a career,” I argue after he slides in behind the wheel. “I needed a change of scenery. I needed to start over.”
“Yeah, I don’t need the reminder,” he bites out.
“I thought you wanted to talk?”
“I did.”
“Then, about what?” When he doesn’t speak right away, my brain goes to Charlie. My stomach flip-flops and a wave of nausea washes over me. Does he know?
“Tell me the truth.”
“What?” The word struggles out.
“Why did you really come back to Golden Harbor? Why come back now? When things are finally going good for me? Are you trying to screw with me?”
When my stomach settles and realization sets in that he doesn’t want to talk about Charlie, my eyes go hard. “Despite what you think, Beck, not everything is about you.”
“Pfft. I’d never think that. Nothing is ever about me when it comes to you.”
