by Linda Kage
“Oh, we met at Granton,” I assured, nodding quickly, while inside I cringed. I hadn’t planned on telling Dad Beck’s story until later this evening, after supper was full and warm in his belly and he’s stretched out comfortably in his lazy boy. “Beck was a…junior?”
When I turned beseechingly to Beckett, he quickly supplied, “Senior. I was in the middle of my second to last semester there.”
“But you’re not attending anymore?” Dad asked slowly.
“Um, no,” Beck flushed, meeting my gaze before turning back to my dad. “Due to, uh, unforeseen circumstances beyond my control, I won’t be returning to Granton University again.”
That answer only made my dad blink as he obviously grew more confused. “What was your major?”
“I was working toward an environmental science degree, specializing in land management,” Beck rattled off.
It took me a moment for that to sink in. When it did, I swerved a gasp his way. “Wait. That’s an agricultural degree.”
Beck nodded slowly. “It is.”
“But…” I shook my head, lost. “But you were in a fraternity.” This made no sense.
Beckett broke out into a grin, looking amused. “Yeah, the Alpha Gamma Rho fraternity.”
“Holy hell, were you really?” My dad seemed suddenly impressed. “I was in AGR when I went to college.”
My mouth not-so-literally dropped to the floor. “You were in a fraternity?”
My own father? I couldn’t believe it.
“You went to college?” Booth exclaimed, just as surprised.
Everyone ignored Booth, and Dad nodded to me. “I was. AGR is an agricultural-based fraternity, you know.”
No, I hadn’t known that at all.
Shock.
“But…But…” I whirled back accusingly to Beckett. “You never told me you were a real, true-blooded country boy.”
He shrugged as if confused by my shock. “You never asked.”
“But…but…”
Amusement began to glimmer in his eyes. “And my student employment was at the university barn where I fed, waterered, and groomed livestock and horses.”
“But…”
That would make him almost a…cowboy.
“But…”
“Dear God, how many times is she going to say but?” Booth wondered, rolling his eyes and groaning dramatically. He sounded five instead of twenty-five.
I kicked him under the table before I pointed accusingly at Beckett. “You were wearing a freaking polo shirt, slacks and pansy-ass loafers the night I met you.”
“Well, yeah,” Beckett shrugged. “I’d just returned from a livestock judging contest. We were supposed to dress semi-formal.”
I just stared at him, wondering who the hell this guy was.
He gave a not-so-humble shrug and grinned. “I won runner-up in the contest, if you were curious.”
“I’m confused,” Dad broke in. “You only had a semester and a half of school left, you were in a decent fraternity, apparently active since you were attending judging contests and working at the university barn, yet you dropped out?”
Beck cleared his throat and shifted in his chair, but he had the courage to meet my dad’s gaze—his face blushing and tense—when he answered, “I wouldn’t say I dropped out as much as I was, well, thrown out.”
The last two words tumbled from his lips timidly, and they left a silence in the kitchen that even I couldn’t come up with some random phrase to blurt out in order to cloak all the awkward.
Beck’s worried gaze sought me, and I knew I couldn’t remain quiet any longer.
I turned to my dad, but he was already saying, “I don’t understand. You were expelled?”
With a cringe, I answered, “Well, I was going to talk to you about that. Later.”
Brow puckering with confusion, Dad glanced between the two of us before settling his gaze on me. “Talk to me about it now.”
“Well.” I cleared my throat and looked at Beck as I said, “Beckett’s had a hard week, so I’ve been helping him out a little, I guess.”
“What kind of week?” my dad demanded, no longer so receptive to Beck’s presence, as Booth blurted, “Beckett? I thought we’ve been calling him Beck.”
I ground my teeth. “I told you his name outside, moron, and besides, Beck is short for Beckett.”
“But isn’t Beckett the name of that rapist you had at your college?”
Dad froze with his gaze on Booth before flipping me an incredulous glance. I could only scowl at my brother, unable to meet my father’s stare. “How the hell do you remember that?” I demanded. “You never remember anything!”
Booth could only shrug. “Because I remember thinking Beckett sounded a lot like bucket.”
Beck made a sound that sounded like a mix between a choke, a groan, and a laugh. I couldn’t tell if he was amused, horrified, or nervous, but I had a feeling it was a strange mixture of all three.
“Bailey Rae Prescott,” my dad thundered, pointing Beck’s way as he glared at me. “Please, God, tell me this is not the same boy who’s been plastered all over the news. You did not let a rapist into my home.”
“Of course I didn’t,” I answered immediately, while Beck silently set his spoon down and then took his hands off the table, placing them into his lap as if he were already preparing to leave as soon as he was ordered to go.
Right. As if I’d let my dad kick him out.
“He’s innocent,” I said simply. “He didn’t rape anyone.”
“And how the hell would you know that?” My dad looked disappointed and enraged all at the same time as he rose to his feet and rested his fisted hand on top of the table to glare at me. “How could you possibly know what he did to that girl? The news said he was released and the charges were dropped, but no one ever mentioned he was proven innocent. They probably just had a lack of evidence to try him. He probably had some lawyer find some technicality—”
“No,” I muttered from between clenched teeth. “They didn’t have a lack of evidence. They finally got some evidence. From me.” I poked a finger into my own chest. “That’s why they let him go free, because I was the witness who came forward and finally got him free, because he’s completely innocent.”
“Witness,” Booth repeated before he let out a snort. “What, did you watch him screw the chick, or something?”
I flushed and couldn’t help but glance at Beck. He was blushing just as red as it felt like I must be.
“Jesus Christ,” my dad muttered before running a hand through his hair and pinning a glare on Beck. He sank back unsteadily into his chair. “Son, don’t tell me you had sex with some girl in front of my daughter.”
Beck shrank under the penetrating stare before he admitted, “I didn’t know she was there.”
“I got stuck in a bathroom,” I was quick to explain. “And when I tried to leave, he was in the room, and they were…you know.”
Booth barked out a laugh and clutched his stomach. “Oh my God, this is classic. My sister’s a peeping tom. I bet he’s happy you were a freaking voyeur now, though, huh?”
I glared at him. “It’s not funny. Do you know how embarrassing it was to be stuck in there, listening and seeing all that, and how much worse it was when I had to go to the freaking police to have to explain it them?”
“Why didn’t you tell me you were mixed up in tall this?” my dad demanded, looking hurt, disappointed, upset, and mad all rolled up into one.
My shoulders fell.
“You should’ve told me,” he lectured. “And you definitely should’ve told me before you brought this kid home with you, before I invited him into my house to sleep in my son’s bed, before he sat down at my dinner table.”
“I can go,” Beckett said quietly, already rising to his feet.
But I jumped to my feet as well, lifting my arm to stop him. “No.” When he stopped and pierced with a hard look, I turned to my dad. “He had nowhere else to go. His family turned him o
ut. His friends, even the university. They all turned their backs on him. He has nothing, literally nothing but a truck and a handful of clothes. I didn’t tell you before we got here because if you hadn’t let him come with me then I wouldn’t have come either. And I just…” When my voice broke, I shook my head, cleared my throat and started over. “I wanted to see you for Thanksgiving.” I cleared my throat again and straightened my shoulders. “But if you want him gone, then I’m going too. We can go right now.”
I glanced at Beck, pretty much silently telling him we were leaving, but my dad boomed, “No one is leaving. Certainly not my only daughter. Now sit down.” He cast Beck a nasty glare. “Both of you, sit.”
Beck and I dropped immediately into our seats because my dad could be pretty freaking intimidating when he wanted to be.
“Now, dammit, I’m not sure why you were so worried I wouldn’t believe you. You’re my daughter, for Christ’s sake; I was the first person to change your shitty diaper. I think I would know if you’re a liar or not, and you’re not. If you say he’s innocent because you saw what happened, then I believe you.”
My shoulders released all the tension they’d been holding. I’m not sure why I’d been so worried about my dad’s faith in me. I should’ve known he’d come through. Maybe after seeing the way Beckett’s mom had treated him had left me unsure. No idea, but I’m glad I was wrong. I’m glad my daddy believed me.
I kind of wanted to hug him now, even though we weren’t the huggy type.
“But I still have questions,” Dad said, scowling at both Beck and me.
“Of course.” Beck answered immediately with a nod.
“This friendship between you two…” My father waggled his finger between the two of us. “Were the police aware you two knew each other and were friends? Why didn’t that hamper the credibility of your story?”
“Oh.” I wasn’t expecting that kind of question. Glancing at Beck, I answered, “Well, we weren’t friends at the time. I mean, I didn’t even know him when it happened. He would’ve been a complete stranger to me except I bumped into him in the hall literally two minutes between everything happened.”
“Then how did you become friends?” Booth was the one to ask.
Beckett and I shared another look. Silently, we decided to let him take this one. “When they released me, I sought Bailey out to thank her for helping me. She was the only person who believed me, the only person to save me. I didn’t…” He shook his head, and this haunted expression entered his eyes. “She gave me a place to stay, and—”
“She what?” Dad lifted his hand to stop us before he swung his incredulous gaze my way. “Do the police know you’ve been letting him stay on your couch?”
I cringed, hoping he never learned it wasn’t exactly my couch Beck had been sleeping on. “No,” I answered in a small voice. “But what does it matter? They dropped all the charges, and he was completely free before I ever talked to him again.”
“Hell, Bailey.” My dad shook his head, clearly frustrated. “Honesty in the eyes of the law is a pretty damn important thing. If they have any reason at all to think you might’ve committed perjury and lied for him, your reputation could be destroyed.”
“Dad.” I clenched my teeth. “You’re being ridiculous. There is nothing—”
“Bailey,” Beckett said quietly, making me stop talking immediately. He lifted a calming hand and gave me a respectful nod before saying, “He’s not being ridiculous. And he’s right when he says a destroyed reputation would be one of the worst things that could happen to you.” With a small laugh, he nodded, “I can definitely attest to that. But, Mr. Prescott…” He turned back to my dad. “You can trust me when I say no one in going to go after her for perjury. Her word wasn’t the only thing that got me free. There was other evidence…” He glanced at me, and I knew we were both thinking about the video. “…that helped free me. So she’s okay there. But you’re also right that it isn’t safe for her to continue harboring me. If any student or someone from my fraternity learned she took me in, they could begin a rumor that we knew each other beforehand, and everyone else might believe she lied. Her reputation could be destroyed in that way, so I know I can’t keep staying there.”
“Except he has nowhere else to go, Dad,” I implored. “He’s out of money, and every place he goes looking for work refuses to hire him. If I stopped harboring him, he’d literally have to live out of his truck, and he’d probably starve by the end of the week.”
My dad scowled at both of us before he scrubbed both hands over his face, hissed a curse, and then dropped his arms to slap them heavily against the tabletop. “Well, I guess that settles it then. There’s only one thing we can do about this situation.” I glanced Beck’s way, wondering what my dad thought he hand planned. When Beck glanced back, he shared our worry with a single stare, as my father announced, “When you go back to school tomorrow, Bailey, Beckett will just have to stay here and work for me.”
Chapter 28
BECKETT
I could strangle her. I could literally wrap my hands around her throat and then…hell, but then I’d probably kiss the devil out of her if I ever put my hands on her again, which seemed like something that might never happen, because she’d fucking set it up so I wouldn’t see her anymore after tomorrow.
I might not touch her, smell her, sleep besides her—fuck—speak to her again. Unable to bare that idea, I inched opened the door to her brother’s room that I was supposed to be sleeping in, and I peered out into the dark hallway.
Her dad had put a lot of faith in me to let me stay here and sleep under his roof after the rape-story we’d told him. Dishonoring his trust by sneaking into his daughter’s room sounded like the worst thing I could do in return. But I had to talk to her.
With the next day being Thanksgiving and more family coming in, then her leaving in the afternoon, I wasn’t sure when a chance to get her alone would ever come around.
I held my breath, praying to God there were no creaking floorboards in front of the doorway as I took my first cautious step into the hall. When nothing groaned underfoot, I released a silent puff of air and took the next achingly slow step. The door to her room was ten feet away and closed. It might be locked. I wouldn’t know until I made it there, but one thing I did know with all certainly, I was going to see her before the night was over. I didn’t care how I made it, as long as I did.
Ten feet later, I reached for her door handle. She hadn’t locked me out, thank God. My heart pumped loudly through my ears as I eased inside. When I heard the bedsprings shift as I closed the door behind me, telling me she was probably still awake, I swallowed and hurried forward, no longer so worried about how much sound my feet made as they shuffled across the floor.
Her bed was closer than I thought it would be, though, and my shin met up with the frame, jostling her entire bed an inch or so across the floor and making it screech loudly.
A strangled laugh came from the mattress. “I sure hope you’re not trying to be stealthy and quiet, Bucket, because you suck at it.”
Smart-ass. I grinned and I yanked up the sheet before crawling in beside her and hissing, “Shh.”
She snickered.
Joy bloomed inside me, like it always did when I was with her. Instantly comforted because my curly-headed smartass was within touching distance again, I sighed out my relief, my restless nerves already settling just knowing she was near before I realized I was on my side, and she’d already been lying on hers. She hadn’t been hogging the middle of the bed. For some reason, that caused my chest to constrict and remind me all over again why I really wanted to strangle her.
We’d never sleep next to each other again.
“So, you’re leaving tomorrow,” I whispered, laying back on my spine to stare up at her dark ceiling, feeling the doom of that fact press heavily down on my heart.
A breath passed, then she quietly answered, “Yep.”
“And I’m staying here,” I added. I bit my lip
, trying to wrap my mind around that fact.
She had separated us. In another twenty-four hours, we’d live nearly two hours apart from each other. How could she do that? How could she tear the one person I needed most right now away from me?
Even if she did think it was for my own good, and in return, I knew it would be best for her too if I was out of her apartment.
How could she fucking kill me like this? My nerves began to twitch and my breathing picked up just thinking about it.
I blew out a long, steadying breath, tempted to reach out, and just touch her hair. Anything. My hands began to shake. “So how’re we going to do this?”
“What do you mean?” she asked.
I clenched my teeth, my desperation and frustration mounting. “You know what I mean, Bailey. I can’t fucking fall asleep if you’re not right there in bed with me. How the hell am I going to sleep here without you? And what if I have another panic attack/nervous breakdown thing? Who’s going to help me get past that? And…shit…” I sucked in a strange sound.
The one thing I absolutely had not wanted to happen, had fucking happened. I’d become dependent upon her.
“I can’t breathe,” I wheezed.
How was I going to breathe without Bailey?
She rolled toward me until I realized she was sitting up and hovering over me. My chest constricted and the panic mounted right before she cupped my face in her hands, paralyzing my oxygen even more because this was probably the last time she’d ever touch me.
“Yes, you can too breathe,” she demanded determinedly. “Now inhale.”
I tried, but it didn’t feel as if anything entered my lungs. I couldn’t lose her; didn’t she realize that? What the hell had my life become that I needed her so much?
What’s worse, I wasn’t sure which notion freaked me out more: realizing how much she meant to me, or realizing I was losing her.
She waited a beat, and then ordered, “Okay, then. Try exhaling.”
But I couldn’t. There was nothing to breathe out. Just like, after tomorrow, there would be no Bailey in my life. I swung my head back and forth, gasping for air, my chest collapsing.
