The Beckett Boys- The Complete Series Box Set

by Olivia Chase

  I peek one eye open, then the other. Pale gray morning light fills my room. I slowly sit up, breathing deeply as the room spins for a moment, and grip the side of the bed. Fuck. Maybe I overdid it a bit last night.

  Yeah, just a bit. I snort quietly.

  A hard knock on my door echoes in my head.

  “Ugh, I’m up,” I grumble.

  The door opens, and Jax peeks in. When he sees me, his eyes fill with irritation. “Fuck, seriously? What the hell, Asher? You look like ass.”

  “I feel like it, too.” I stand up and try to stretch. “Nothing some coffee, Tylenol, and a hot shower can’t fix. I’ll be fine.”

  “I’m sure you think this is fine, whatever the fuck is going on with you, but you’re a fucking total mess,” Jax declares. He comes into my room and slams the door shut behind him. “Lately you’re always drunk and you’re partying all the time. This isn’t you, man. What is this, you lashing out for all the shit in your life? You pissed off because Mom came back?” He pauses. “Or maybe you screwed up with Whitney and you can’t handle it.”

  “Fuck you,” I breathe, unable to put much heat in the words. My chest hurts from his accusations. They’re all spot on. Fucking bastard.

  “Bro, you need to pull it together. I’ve been where you are, and the answer isn’t at the bottom of the bottle. I almost lost Brooklyn because of being an idiot. Wake up—it’s not too late for you to straighten shit out.” Jax shakes his head. “And you’d better not mess up this day for us, because Brooklyn is already anxious and stressed. If you make my baby upset, I’ll rip your balls off.”

  I hold up my hands. “Whoa, calm down. I haven’t even done anything and you’re jumping on me.”

  “Yeah, you haven’t done anything,” he retorts. “Nothing but act like a deadbeat idiot who can’t deal with his own shit.” The look of disgust and disappointment in his eyes hits me hard, and I glance away, shame burning my cheeks. I can’t stand to see what he thinks of me. And God knows Smith is going to look the exact same way when I see him later. “Pull it together and be ready to go in an hour.” He turns and leaves, closing the door behind him.

  I sit back down on the edge of the bed and stare at the floor. All these weeks, I’ve been running from the reality of my life. Unable to face the stress and pressure of my mom returning, of my breakup with Whitney. I’m even kind of missing college and my classes, how I felt making progress toward something. But every day is the fucking same thing now—wake up, work, drink, sleep. Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

  I’m tired. So tired.

  My suit is laying on the bottom of my closet floor. Fuck. I forgot to get it dry cleaned. Well, it’ll have to do. I hop in the shower, scrub away the cobwebs from my brain. When I emerge, I feel cleaner and a little less shitty. At least from the hangover.

  I put on my suit pants and dress shirt and head to the kitchen to pour the world’s biggest coffee. Remembering Whitney in here with me just makes that hole in my chest grow bigger. She’s everywhere I go—her fucking imprint is scarred on my skin.

  Look at what a mess you are, I tell myself. Cutting her loose was the best thing I could have done for her. And now she’s off being happy without me. Probably Devon is thanking his lucky stars that she’s free and he can move back in on her again.

  Not my concern anymore. I gave her up, and any short-term pain is worth the long-term benefit of her following her dreams, going to school, leaving Rock Bridge behind.

  Brooklyn walks in, a robe wrapped around her, her belly large and pressed against the front fabric. Her hair is pulled into a soft twist, and her makeup is already done. She waddles toward me with a smile, holding her stomach. “God, this baby is being wild today. Definitely a Beckett,” she says. When she gets right beside me, her smile fades, and she frowns. “Are you okay?”

  I nod. “Totally fine.”

  “You don’t look fine.”

  “Thanks, Brooklyn.” I give her a crooked smirk. “Way to make a guy feel good about himself.”

  She laughs and swats my arm. “You know what I mean. You just…” Her lips press together as she scrutinizes me. “I worry about you, Asher. You’ve had a lot of big changes recently. That has to be weighing on you.”

  “Is she going to be there?”

  Brooklyn nods. She knows who I mean without me having to spell it out. “Your brothers want her to start feeling like part of the family.”

  I’ve seen Mom a couple of times since her first reappearance, but I can’t seem to make myself go up and talk to her. Every time I even think about it, all I can remember is how my entire life has passed without her being around, and I fill up with anger. “Well, we wouldn’t want to upset her,” I say evenly.

  Brooklyn’s mouth wavers a little, and she glances down.

  Fuck. I reach over and cup her shoulder. “Sorry. Don’t listen to me. I’m an idiot. It’s your special day, and you shouldn’t have to worry about a thing. Just tell me what you need from me, okay?”

  Her nod is small. Guilt chews at my gut. Jax will murder me if he finds out I upset her.

  “I promise I won’t lose the wedding rings,” I add, hoping to coax a smile out of her. When Smith and Aubrey got married, Jax was in charge of the rings, and from what I heard back in the fall—which apparently Smith still doesn’t know about—Jax lost them and had to replace them. Brooklyn was recruited to help him.

  My reference to their first adventure together does the job. She laughs, and the tension eases from her face. “Oh, I trust you. I’m not worried about that.” She leans in and whispers, “But just in case, I wear a size six, and we got the rings at Taylor’s Jewelers. They know what we bought.”

  I smile at her, the first genuine smile I’ve had in what seems like days. “Thanks for the tip. Mrs. Beckett.”

  “Oh, God.” Her cheeks turn pink. “I’m about to be a married woman. I can’t believe the day has come.” She reaches her hands up to touch her face. “Do I look okay?”

  I take her hands in mine and squeeze. “You look amazing. Jax is going to fall more in love with you than he ever did.”

  She gives me a big hug, and I feel the baby kick against my belly. She pulls back with a laugh and strokes her belly. “Sorry, Uncle Asher. Someone’s excited to be coming out soon. The day can’t get here quickly enough.”

  “I’m excited to meet him. I hope you’re still considering the name Asher. I think it’s regal and perfect.” I’ve tried on and off all autumn to get her to name the baby after me. Despite me using the Beckett charm on her, I don’t think it’s working.

  She rolls her eyes. “You know, Smith said the same thing. You boys are all alike. God help me when I bring another of you boys into the world.”

  I chug my coffee, my chest feeling a little bit lighter. I managed to do something good, to help her feel better on a day when she has every right to be stressed. Maybe I’m not a colossal fuck-up after all. At least, not a completely hopeless one.

  Jax emerges from his bedroom, his suit fitted to perfection. When Brooklyn sees him, her eyes go soft, and she gasps.

  “Oh God, you look so ridiculously hot,” she tells him.

  I roll my eyes. “All you’re doing is making my brother’s ego bigger.”

  “Shut up, ass,” Jax says as he stops and assumes a male model pose. “If the woman thinks I’m hot, she should make sure to tell me. As often as possible.”

  “We’re never going to fit your head in the car,” Brooklyn says with a laugh.

  Jax leers at her. “Oh, I’ll fit my head in your—”

  “Jax!” Brooklyn squeals.

  “Don’t worry. Asher knows all about where babies come from. I drew him pictures.” Jax cackles.

  “Even as a kid, I suspected dicks weren’t actually that big,” I say grinning.

  “I can’t imagine what you boys were like growing up.” She shakes her head and rubs her belly again. “Your dad must have been a saint.”

  We gather our things and are quiet as we head to our
respective cars. As I drive to the church, I’m thinking about Dad. What he would have thought, seeing two of his sons married and a grandson on the way. If he hadn’t gotten sick and died, he could have seen Mom after she was paroled, too. What would have happened between them?

  Would he have been able to forgive her, embrace her? Welcome her back into his heart, his life?

  Seems like he would’ve, given that he kept in touch with her until he died.

  I guess it makes sense now why Dad never dated anyone else. All this time I thought he was grieving a dead woman. He must have been holding a space for when she returned to him. And he kept on writing her faithfully, regularly. Mom said that Dad would fill her in on the crazy things we did growing up. He sent her pictures of us, which Smith said she carries with her even now.

  She’s going to be at the wedding, forcing me to be around her.

  The snow is coming down, and the roads are a little slick. I turn my focus to driving. Last thing I need is to do donuts on the road or hit a side rail. My brothers would murder me for being late to the wedding, no matter the reason.

  I arrive at the church, which is decorated on the outside with Christmas décor. Inside, soft piano music is playing, and white flowers fill the space with their strong scent. Jax and Brooklyn aren’t religious, but the pastor of this church was a friend of Dad’s, go figure. My dad made friends with everyone. When the pastor found out they were getting married, he offered the space up for free, saying Dad would have wanted him to do it.

  I check my pocket to make sure the ring box is in there—it is. Killing time before the ceremony starts, I mingle with friends and family in the lobby. Though I’m on edge waiting for Mom to show up, I try to shove that anxiety aside and focus on not making today about me. It’s about Jax and Brooklyn.

  Ten minutes before the ceremony, I make my way to the front of the altar to stand beside Smith on the groom’s side. Jax is there on my other side, his usual characteristic coolness gone. He seems a little pale, chewing on a fingernail.

  “You okay?” I ask quietly.

  He gives a distracted nod.

  “Don’t puke on her dress. She’ll kill you.”

  That makes him chuckle. “Fucker. I’m not going to puke.”

  “Sure you’re not,” I drawl. “And don’t say ‘fucker’ in church, heathen.”

  The crowd from the lobby fill in the pews. No Mom in sight. Maybe she decided to not come after all. I’m both relieved and feeling something akin to disappointment. I should have known I couldn’t depend on her. That when it came to the big things, she wouldn’t be there. She wasn’t there for any of my big moments in life so far, so why would this be different?

  I’m pretty sure Whitney isn’t here, but I glance around just to confirm. I should be relieved to not see her, even though my bones have this deep ache when I think about her.

  Which is all the fucking time.

  The piano music changes, and everyone straightens up. Brooklyn comes walking down the aisle with her dad, and her satiny white dress is beautiful—it cups her belly, not trying to disguise her pregnancy, and flows down to right above her feet. She’s glowing, her eyes fixed on Jax.

  He hasn’t stopped staring at her since the door opened.

  My chest is tight as the ceremony begins. The vows are exchanged after I hand the ring box over. They slip rings on and are declared man and wife.

  When they kiss, Brooklyn gives this happy sigh and cups Jax’s face. The crowd claps their approval.

  I can’t stop thinking about how Whitney would smile at me that way, how her mouth tasted. Fuck. Why does she haunt me? It’s even worse than the first time I ran off to go to school and didn’t talk to her. Because back then, I didn’t fully know what I was missing.

  I do now.

  We proceed to the hall for the reception. The photographer runs around and takes candid photos of people. Romantic music is playing. I kind of want to kill myself—I’d give anything to get the fuck out of here.

  Being surrounded by couples in love is making me face how much I really miss Whitney. How my body throbs for her. How I haven’t felt the same since we broke up.

  No, since I dumped her.

  It was the right thing to do, I remind myself. But it feels like freeing her cost me a piece of my soul.

  We eat dinner, which is good—there’s chicken, salmon, and steak tenderloin, and I help myself to all of them. Then Jax and Brooklyn cut the cake, and Jax smears it on her upper chest and nibbles it off. She gasps in shock and laughs, squirming, and the crowd goes wild for his antics. My brother, the ham.

  I sit at the table and watch them share their first dance as husband and wife. He rests a hand on her belly, the other on her lower back, and draws her near. Jealousy stabs me hard, right in the chest, and I have to look away.

  Fuck me. I’m a disaster.

  My phone vibrates. I dig it out of my pocket, grateful for a distraction. I don’t recognize the local number calling me. I’m about to shove my phone back in my pocket when Smith comes walking over to me, his face ashen.

  “What’s wrong?” I say, standing up.

  “Mom is in the hospital.” He rakes a hand through his hair, messing it up. “She got in a car accident on the way here. She just called me from her room, but I didn’t hear my phone in time to talk to her.”

  My stomach drops. I glance down at my phone, and then it dings with a voicemail notification. It has to be her calling me.

  I’m surprised to see my hand shake as I listen to the voicemail.

  “Um, Asher. Hi. It’s…well, it’s your mom. I…” There’s a pause as she sucks in a shaky breath. “I got in an accident. I tried to call Smith, but he didn’t answer. I didn’t want you guys to think I missed the wedding on purpose. I’ll call Jax later tonight—please don’t tell him yet so he doesn’t worry. Thank you.”

  Smith sucks in a breath. “We should go see her.”

  “You stay here,” I’m surprised to find myself saying. “At least for now. She doesn’t want Jax to know yet, and if you’re gone, he’ll be suspicious. He already thinks I’m an idiot, so he won’t be as pissed if I vanish.”

  “Are you sure?” He looks uneasy. “We know how you feel about her. And she doesn’t need to deal with your negativity right now.”

  It’s on the tip of my tongue to yell at him, but I stop myself. We’re at my brother’s wedding reception. This isn’t the place to fight. I pull the emotions back in, keep my voice controlled. “I’m not going to be a dick to her. I’ll go and find out what happened, and I’ll report back to you.”

  Smith nods. “Fine. Call me as soon as you know something.”

  I head out the door and go to my car. The snow is coming down stronger, and I clench the steering wheel as I navigate my way to the local hospital. I pull into the visitor parking lot. At the front desk, a nice elderly lady tells me which room my mom is in.

  My heart thrums as I take the elevator to the fourth floor, then turn right toward her room. I’m not sure what I’m expecting to see. She didn’t sound terrible—and the fact that she was able to call means she isn’t unconscious or seriously damaged. But if she’s in the hospital, there has to be some problems.

  I get to her door and suck in a steadying breath. Knock, then press it open and step inside. The beeping of monitors greets me. My mom is on the bed on the far side of the room, staring out the window. She turns to look at me, and she blinks in surprise.

  “Asher. I…didn’t expect you to be here.” There’s a bandage on her brow, and her left arm is wrapped in a splint, along with her left leg. Bruises mar her face and arms. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” She gives a weak laugh. “They have me on good painkillers. I should have told you boys not to worry about coming by.”

  I stiffly move to the chair beside her bed and sit down. My lungs are the size of grapes. “It’s fine.”

  “How was the wedding?” Her eyes get sad, and she stares down at her lap. “I really wanted to see them.”r />
  “It was good.” I dig into my phone and pull out a couple of shots I took of the happy couple. Then I thrust it toward her.

  Mom bites her lower lip and tentatively takes the phone with her uninjured hand, scrolling through the pictures to the end. “Oh, she looks beautiful,” she breathes. “And Jax is so happy. That smile…he looks just like your father there.” Tears fill her eyes and streak down her face. She hands me back the phone. “Thank you.”

  I swallow, nod. Watching her emotions, the way she seems to really care about Jax, makes my heart shred a little. “Um. What happened?” I nod at her injuries.

  She sighs and leans back onto her pillow. “I hit a patch of ice and went flying. The car I bought is crappy, and the brakes don’t work so well. I hit a pole.” She closes her eyes. “The bill for this is going to suck. I don’t know how I’m going to pay for it.”

  “Don’t worry about that right now.” Seeing her so frail is surprisingly difficult. I’m finding it hard to speak. All the emotions I’ve been bottling up are whirling in my stomach.

  “Asher, I’m sorry I took you away from the reception,” she murmurs quietly without opening her eyes. “Thank you for coming down here though. Please let your brothers know I’m fine. But if you’d wait until later to tell Jax, I’d appreciate it.”

  “Mom,” I tell her, my voice catching on the word.

  She opens her eyes and looks at me, her gaze pained. “Honey, I wronged you in how I handled things. I thought letting you boys go was the best way to protect you from my mistake. It was so stupid. I should have told you where I was and let you make the decision on how to handle it, rather than take the choice away from you. I can’t fix the past, and I’m sorry. I don’t blame you for being upset with me. Not wanting to be around me.”

  “As I was growing up, there were so many times I wished I had a mother.” The confession feels torn from my ribcage. “Jax and Smith remember your voice, things you did together. I had nothing.”

  Her eyes well up, and she blinks. “I know.” She bites her lower lip. “I failed you most of all. I don’t think I can ever forgive myself for it.”