Bet on Me (Bet on Love #2)

by Rachel Higginson

  And it was this girl.

  This incredible, mysterious, delicate girl that needed me as much as I needed her.

  “This is the last time I’m asking,” I whispered, afraid that if I spoke any louder she would realize what an asshole I was, grab her things and flee. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes,” she smiled softly. “I’m sure.”

  “And tonight? We can wait,” I assured her. “I can do something special or take you somewhere or…”

  Her fingers landed on my lips to shut me up. “Beckett, stop. Tonight is perfect.”

  “You’re perfect,” I told her. Scooping her up in my arms, I repeated, “God, you’re perfect.” And thank God, I’d changed those sheets.

  I carried her to my bedroom where we were submerged in dim lighting with only the light of my lamp on. I laid her on my bed, and the rest of our clothes disappeared.

  We continued to explore each other, learning every inch of each other in the best way possible. She was so soft, her skin, her touch, her entire being was made of something like silk, something pure and perfect and addicting.

  When I finally settled over her, I felt a shift in my chest. She lay beneath me, with her hair against my pillow and her eyes holding mine shining with trust and anticipation.

  I couldn’t breathe for a second. I had never seen anything this beautiful.

  I had never been able to touch or hold or taste something this incredible.

  I didn’t even know something like this existed.

  And yet it was mine. This moment and this experience and her.

  I pulled a condom out of my nightstand drawer and went through the routine of making sure we would both be safe and protected. But even I couldn’t deny that this was all for her.

  A virgin.

  How was that even possible?

  She was untouched and untainted. And I hovered over her feeling every ounce of my past relationships like a heavy weight crushing me into the ground. She deserved better than me.

  Better than my past disregard for women and the flippancy with which I’d always treated sex.

  Britte had made me see how perfect it can be when you treat it with respect…when you make it mean something more than a quick lay or necessary release.

  This was how it should always be, I decided.

  From now on, this would be how it always was.

  We finally came together, and that something in my chest moved again, settling permanently in a new place. I struggled to breathe through the sensation, at the same time I fought to treat Britte with all the care I could.

  She tensed at first, afraid and probably in some pain. I waited until she adjusted to me, until she relaxed beneath me.

  Her fingers curled into my shoulder blades, and my arms shook as I forced restraint. I leaned down and took her mouth again, kissing her slowly…deeply…reverently.

  “You’re so beautiful, Britte,” I told her. “Perfect for me.”

  She kissed along my jaw, making her way to my ear. “Move, Beckett,” she whispered. “I need you to move.”

  So I did. I was nothing if not at this girl’s complete disposal. I moved, and we moved together, and it was something I had never thought sex could be. It was as beautiful as she was.

  Damn, I wanted it to last for hours…for forever.

  But when it was finished I found something I loved just as much. I collapsed on the bed next to her, drunk on passion and heady with unfamiliar emotion. She rolled onto her side and fit into me, just like we’d slept on the couch.

  I wrapped my arms around her and kissed her hair and neck, rubbed her stomach and held her hand until she fell asleep next to me. I lay there for a long time after admiring her…cherishing this moment with her.

  Eventually, I fell asleep too. And I slept good, heavy from having a woman that was more than me and excited for a future that held the possibility of so many more of these nights.

  I slept good and hard and in the morning I woke up with one thing on my mind.

  Britte.

  Only she wasn’t there when I woke up.

  She was gone.

  Vanished.

  And in her place was a note scrawled on paper from one of my notebooks I’d tidied for her.

  I can’t do this, Beckett. I don’t want to do this. We tried, but I can’t anymore. Please let this be over.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Britte

  Midterms didn’t go well for me. Not even a little bit.

  After I crawled out of Beckett’s bed the morning after…the morning after the best night of my life, I had my final two tests Thursday.

  Pretty sure I failed them.

  In fact, the only thing I aced this week was the epic walk of shame I managed after Beckett’s.

  I mean, I lost my virginity. I thought that went pretty well. Could I claim to have aced that?

  My thoughts on that alternated between: Oh, My god. I lost my virginity… And: Oh, my God! I lost my virginity!

  When I analyzed that night without emotion, I couldn’t believe how well it had gone…how sweet and considerate Beckett had been…how much I wanted to do that whole routine again.

  From start to finish.

  God, Beckett was incredible.

  But then I’d woken up that morning in a blind panic, realizing the implications of having sex with Beckett and the permanency with which I’d stamped all over us. And I made a choice.

  A necessary choice. A choice derived from the very reasons I went over there to begin with.

  Like I said, that had been the best night of my life. But there could only be one.

  I knew I had to end it with him then or I would never be able to.

  My writing hand still felt cold from when I’d written him that chicken shit note. And the one and only text I’d received from him since then only made me feel worse.

  You’re the bravest girl I know, so I don’t know why you’re so scared of this. Maybe because it’s good. We’re good together. Or maybe because you’re only brave when you don’t have to risk anything…when you can be in complete control. Yeah, this is scary. But for me, you were worth it. Have it your way. Hope it works out for you.

  I hadn’t replied back, obviously. But I had made sure to torture myself by reading it every other hour since he’d sent it.

  Something ugly and painful had taken root in my stomach and curled through me with sharp stabs of loneliness. I wanted to call Beckett and explain. I’d picked up my phone at least twelve dozen times. I’d even driven to his apartment complex once, determined to show him why I had to walk away.

  But I’d chickened out each time.

  I realized I was going to have to face him eventually, but I dreaded even the thought of it. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t remember that night with him and how sweet he had been…how gentle and caring and adoring…without wanting to cry.

  And it wasn’t just that night. He’d gotten inside me somehow, into my heart, into my soul. No matter what I’d done to keep him out, he’d managed to get me to care for him.

  Fall for him.

  Maybe even fall in love with him which was why I had to end it.

  I had this idea of love, or at least how love would be for me. And this wasn’t it. I wanted love that made me feel safe…made me feel tangible boundaries and lines and expectations. I wanted love that was neat and organized and predictable. I wanted to be loved by someone that made their intentions clear and structured and realistic.

  With Beckett…I felt out of control. This emotion inside me was wild and untamable. It beat through me with heavy fists and clutched with tight fingers that refused to be soft or gentle or go slow. It swept through me like a hurricane, ravaging my heart and battering my soul.

  And I wanted more.

  And more. And more.

  I couldn’t predict what would happen with Beckett, and I hated that. It wasn’t even all the girls or the fan club or any of that. I’d gotten to know him well enough now that I saw that he could change.<
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  That he had changed.

  And our night together Wednesday. That had been an entirely different side of him I hadn’t even known existed.

  People claimed that sex was an emotional thing for girls, that it was the catalyst to love and permanent feelings and all that. But if that were true, then it happened for me way before the technicalities of sex.

  Sex was the aftereffect of a culmination of everything I had been fighting.

  The second I had walked into his apartment, I knew I was in trouble. Beckett wasn’t at all what I expected, from the very beginning. But then there he was in plaid pajama pants and a gray t-shirt. His apartment styled by his mom and sister. The kitchen table that had been covered in his grad school work. The huge TV that was so Beckett…

  I hadn’t stood a chance.

  And then he’d touched me. He’d been everything I needed to sooth my broken heart. And at first, that was all I was going to let him be. I just wanted a temporary break from the emotions pounding through my chest. I just wanted to forget about my mom and the failure I’d been that day and the future that suddenly felt too big for me… too hard.

  And then I’d remembered his words, pain isn’t bad for you.

  So I’d let myself open up to him. I’d taken that one night, knowing I would have to leave in the morning.

  And now, I couldn’t even say it was worth it. I thought it would be like a souvenir for me to keep with me for the rest of my life. A token of Beckett I could hold next to my heart to remember him by, and that one time I let myself live a little out of control when the tight boxes of my life felt too confining.

  But it hadn’t worked like that. This was too much pain…too much heartache.

  I wasn’t equipped to suffer through this.

  Breaking it to Ellie had almost hurt twice as much. Just reliving the story—at least the PG parts of it because it was her brother and ick—had nearly killed me. She’d taken it as well as she could. I could tell she was disappointed that her dream of being her sisters-in-law was over, but she didn’t make me feel bad for my decision.

  She had hugged me and reminded me that I could talk to her about anything, and she would support me no matter what. Then she’d invited me back to her house for fall break. Fin’s fall break didn’t line up with hers, and he needed to go home to see his grandmother and brother this week. But Ellie’s mom and dad had begged her to come home and spend the week with her.

  I had been planning to stick around our apartment and work. And I wasn’t sure I could stomach going to Beckett’s childhood home and spending time with his parents. My friendship with Ellie would never be affected, no matter what happened with Beckett. But her parents and her house were an entirely different thing.

  I decided to call Ty at Bailey’s just to see if I could even get the time off since I was scheduled throughout the week. Then I’d be able to make a clear-headed decision.

  The bar answered, but quickly transferred to his office. “This is Ty,” he greeted gruffly.

  “Hey, Ty. It’s Britte.”

  “You mean trouble,” he shot back. “Why are you calling me?”

  Even though I felt like absolute shit, I still smiled. “To bother you.”

  He grunted, “You’re really good at that. But seriously, what do you want?”

  “I have fall break this week.”

  I could hear his suspicion through the phone. “I remember because you asked to pick up more shifts. Remember all those shifts I gave you?”

  I swallowed nervously. I wasn’t even sure if I wanted to go with Ellie, but Ty was such a ballbuster. Geez. “I do remember. That was so generous of you.”

  “I’m a generous guy.”

  I cleared my throat. “You are. Super generous. So super generous.”

  “Get to the point, B.”

  “Well, Ellie is going home this week, and she invited me to go with her. I’ve had a super tough week and I’m kind of a hot mess, so I was wondering if it’s possible to cover those shifts of mine so I could take off for the week? Maybe? Possibly? If it doesn’t work, no big deal. I just thought I’d ask. But like I said, no big deal if you can’t make it work.”

  He mumbled something unintelligible, and I heard papers rustling- probably the weekly schedule. “You’re on here for Lady’s Night and Friday night. Those are our two busiest shifts.”

  “Hey, I said, if it doesn’t work, I’m fine with it! This is just a feeler call.”

  His voice softened. “Did the Harris kid break up with you?”

  “What?” My heart started hammering.

  “The Harris kid. Did he break up with you?”

  “I broke up with him,” I admitted.

  Ty let out a sigh. “Well, you’re a smart girl, I’m sure you had your reasons.”

  I rolled my eyes to keep from crying. “Thanks, Ty. So is that a no to the week then?”

  “That’s a yes to the week. Take it off. We’ll figure it out.”

  “What? Are you serious?”

  His deep chuckle made me smile because it was so rare. “Yeah, I’m serious. You’re a college kid, Britte. This isn’t a career for you. It’s a temporary job. You can’t take everything seriously. Go, enjoy your break. Baileys will be here when you get back.”

  “You’re amazing, Ty. Seriously! Best boss ever!”

  “Yeah, yeah,” he groaned. “Just next time give yourself a break before I schedule you for the week, okay? It would make my best boss ever job a whole lot easier.”

  “Will do.”

  “See ya, kid.” Then he clicked off before I could say goodbye.

  I set the phone down realizing I hadn’t intended to take the week off. I was just supposed to see if I could take it off. Now I had a week free, and I still wasn’t sure I wanted to go home with Ellie.

  But what else was I going to do?

  Shit.

  A knock at my door made me jump out of my skin. Ellie was actually working tonight. It was one of the few nights we were scheduled apart. But I had asked for this week off because of midterms, knowing I would have so many shifts next week. And she’d known she was going to have the whole week off, so she’d still worked this week.

  She was clearly smarter than me.

  Simultaneously terrified and hopeful that it was Beckett on the other side of that door, I tiptoed toward it, making as little noise as possible. To my surprise my dad stood on the other side, his hands low on his hips, looking as rough and tough as he always did.

  I flung the door open, surprised but so happy to see him. “Daddy!” I threw my arms around him before he even got in the door. He hugged me back immediately, and I inhaled his familiar scent—the garage, Old Spice, and that something that was so him.

  “Hey, baby girl.”

  I stepped back so he could walk all the way inside. “What are you doing here?” The drive from my hometown in Waupaca was only two and a half hours, but my dad didn’t usually show up unannounced.

  He was like me in that. He liked to have a plan and to stick to it. He didn’t enjoy being surprised or surprising people. In fact, this was the only time I could remember he hadn’t at least called a few days ahead to warn me about his visit.

  “Your mother called me,” he answered.

  I had been so wrapped up in what happened with Beckett that I had nearly forgotten the catalyst for my emotional breakdown. “You mean, your ex-wife?”

  His scowl deepened to Level Dangerous. Warning sirens started blaring in my head.

  “We need to talk,” he ordered.

  I waved him over to the couch he’d given Ellie and me when all her furniture was stolen. He took a moment to stare at it, and I suddenly wondered if he could tell I’d spent the night on it with a boy.

  No. That was crazy.

  My dad was smart, but he wasn’t psychic.

  He glared at me.

  At least I didn’t think he was.

  “S-sit anywhere,” I offered. I took a seat perpendicular to him on the old recliner�
��a donation from Lennox.

  When he was finally settled, he took his time staring me down. My dad was a silver fox when he wasn’t scary as hell. His hair had been silver for as long as I could remember and he was lean and muscled from his work. His eyes were a rich brown that stood out from his naturally tanned skin.

  I’d gotten my green eyes from my mother.

  The only thing that reminded me of her that I didn’t hate.

  He leaned in, resting his elbows on his long legs. “Britte, I know you’re headstrong. I’ve known it for almost as long as I’ve known you. You get something in your head, and you decide not to change your mind, and that’s it. That’s the end of the story. But your mother called you the other day, and you hung up on her. Now, no matter what you have decided in your mind, that behavior is unacceptable. It is not how I raised you. You crushed her, Britte. She called me sobbing, not understanding why her only child won’t listen to her.”

  “You can’t be serious.”

  He held up his hand to silence me. “Now, I explained how difficult this is for you. I told her not to call you in the first place, but it seems my life is plagued with women who never listen to me, and she called you anyway. But, baby girl, whatever it is in your heart that’s stopping you from hearing her out, you need to examine. You’re headstrong, but you’re also empathetic and compassionate. You’re the most giving child I’ve ever met. And you’re smart. You’re smart enough to know that this bitterness and hatred inside of you is going to eat you alive. It’s going to ruin the good things in your life. Twist your happiness and make it something unhappy. You can’t hold onto this and expect it not to affect your life.”

  Still defensive and angry, I argued, “She called me right in the middle of midterms! I was supposed to be studying, and she just called out of the blue! I needed to focus, Dad. I needed to-”

  “How did midterms go after that?”

  I bravely met his glare, “Terrible.”

  “Now isn’t that something?”

  I clenched my jaw tight enough I thought I was going to shatter a tooth. “She should have waited for me to reach out to her.”