Beckett.
He’ddubbed it exactly what it was, hadn’t he? A booty call. That had transformedinto a mercy fuck, or a good-bye fuck, or whatever the hell label one wanted toslap on the dirty deed. Nothing could pretty it up. And she’d never seen it comingbecause she’d let Adrian maneuver her again, and this time, he’d usedher to try and manipulate Beckett.
Heraching heart weighed heavily in her chest. She should have been the oneto tell Beckett—not Adrian, the bastard—but she’d missed her chance when she’dchickened out.
It hadstung like blazes to have her transgressions leveled at her, especiallyby Beckett. She’d been angry because his crass words had condemned her andripped through her. But after he’d walked out, they’d sunk in, and God, he’dbeen right. She’d been the one with the power to stop this circus, butshe’d wound up the catalyst when she’d hopped into Adrian’s bed.
She’dmade a mess of absolutely everything.
Stiflinga cry that erupted from deep inside her chest, she hugged herself. Hot tearscame, transforming into sobs. How could she expect Beckett’s forgiveness?
Suddenly,a thought struck her, and she sat up and swiped her wet cheeks. How can Iexpect forgiveness if I don’t ask? Grabbing her phone, she ticked off thereasons she shouldn’t text him. It’s late. He’s sleeping. He’ll be grumpy. Butshe needed to make this right. Now. She tapped out a message.
Beck,I’m so sorry. This hurts like hell. Can I hit replay? Forgive me?
Herfinger hovered over the send button. She pulled in a deep breath and hit it.
.~ * * * ~.
Beckett wandered dark sidewalks, a dead-of-the-night,sub-freezing chill fingering its way under his jacket. Maybe the cold wouldhelp him get his bearings, clear his head, shake out the cobwebs. Was he evenheaded in the right direction? He snorted out a bitter laugh. How would anaimless, clueless, dumb fuck like you know?
Questionsrolled around in his head like loose marbles, bringing him no closer to solvingthem. What the fuck is wrong with me? What the fuck am I doing?
Trafficlights flashed late-night reds and yellows, though no cars were on the road toheed them. Just him, trying to navigate their blinking warnings.
Nothinghad gone the way he’d wanted. Nothing was working. He hadn’t conquered the oldhabits. How easy it had been to backslide into the same damn hole. And hecouldn’t even get that right anymore. Why? Andie. She was dead-center inhis shit-storm. Her and her second chances.
He blewout a steamy cloud.
Animage of her teary eyes and trembling lip floated through his brain. Fuck. Shehadn’t deserved his outburst. Well, not the full force of it anyway. He’d beenso pissed, so caught up in blinding anger, that he hadn’t listened to whatshe’d said. She was going through with the divorce; sleeping with her assholehusband had been a “big mistake.” Hell, Beckett was an expert at mistakes, andshe’d never judged him. Why couldn’t he allow her this one?
Becauseit fucking hurt, that’s why.
Heturned a corner and realized he was a good two miles from the condo. How farhad he walked? Not far enough because he was still muddled as hell. He shruggedhis collar a little higher on his neck. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea tosharpen his mental faculties after all; it only reminded him how poorly he’dplayed tonight.
Frigidair seeping beneath his clothing, he stuffed his hands in his pockets. Hisphone was vibrating. He pulled it out and stared at it. And blinked. Warmthpulsed through his bloodstream, and he barked out a laugh as he re-read Andie’stext.
In thatmoment, he understood where he was supposed to be, and his own ache receded asthough he’d been dosed with Novocain.
.~ * * * ~.
The slam of a car door jerked Paige awake in the dead ofnight. Loud, insistent knocking followed, and adrenaline jolted her to thewindow. Beckett stood on her porch, broad shoulders hunched. Stunned, she lethim in. Without a word, he drew her against his hard chest.
Shesniffled. “I’m so sorry for everything, Beck. I made a huge mistake, and I wasembarrassed, and I took it out on you. I feel so bad.”
“Iknow. Me too.” He laid his cheek on her head. He smelled of bourbon and OldSpice, and he held her, just held her close. She slumped against him, wrappedup in those safe, strong arms.
Shepulled away and looked up at him. “Were you … Did I interrupt somethingimportant?”
He drewback, his warm breath stirring her hair. He stroked it and whispered, “Not adamn thing.”
Theysank into the couch, her cheek pressed against his jacket. Her hand slipped beneathand rested against his cotton shirt. Soon she closed her eyes and drifted offin a contented fog.
Whenshe roused, she lay lengthwise on the couch, her head on a cushion and a bigbody spooning hers in the dark. Beckett’s jacketless arm was draped over her,his rhythmic breaths falling on her neck. She couldn’t remember how they’dfitted themselves together, but it felt good. It felt right. His chest heatedher back, and his familiar scent enveloped her, mixed with the alcohol oozingfrom his pores. She wrapped her arms around his and closed her eyes.
Thenext time she woke, the sky had lightened to pearl gray, and a phone wasringing. Beckett jerked behind her and groused in a muzzy voice. She thoughtshe heard a “What the hell?” and a “Leave me the fuck alone.” He launched apillow in the general direction of her office. She heaved herself onto anelbow, but he pulled her against him, murmuring unintelligible words. She layvery still until his muscles slackened. As she attempted to disentangle herself,his arm tightened, and he threw his massive leg over hers.
“Beck,you awake?” she hissed.
A fewmumbly words, punctuated by a distinct no.
“Beck,I need to use the bathroom.”
With agroan, he relented. When she returned, he sat upright, cracking his neck. Sheperched at the edge of the coffee table. His hand raked his rumpled hair,making it stick up like a rooster tail. Was that a glint of silver threadedamong his nut-brown strands? His half-opened eyes fixed on her,
