“My dad was wrong about her.”
I turn toward her.
“My dad always talked about how beautiful she was, but he always made her sound so cold. Like she would be appalled if she found out I existed.” She swallows hard, and her gaze meets mine. “The more I find out, the more I realize I didn’t really know him either.”
“We’re going to find the truth. But Beckett is right about the danger. I have a third bedroom. It’s a futon since it also doubles as my office, but it’s there if you want it.”
She nods. “I’ll take it.”
“Good. I’m going to check on Beckett, but it’s down the hall, second door on the right.” Since I have nothing super important to worry about inside the house, I don’t bother to hover and make sure she doesn’t get into anything.
Instead, I shift my attention to the woman who has quickly become one of the most important people in the entire world to me.
19.Beckett
“You handled that really well,” Shawn comments as he steps out onto the porch.
“Did I?” I shake my head, going over every moment in my mind all over again. “I prayed my way through the entire thing.”
“I don’t know anyone else who would be handling things this way.”
“I’m barely standing.” I turn to face him so I can stare up into those hazel eyes that seem to soothe even the deepest ache within me. I can still feel his arms around me, cradling me while I cried.
I can still feel the steady thumping of his heart as it beat against my cheek while I rested on his chest.
“There’s no doubt in my mind that he did, Beckett. I know what he did was wrong, but there is no way he held you and wasn’t hopelessly in love.”
There’s no way he held you and wasn’t hopelessly in love.
I know it’s stupid. Out of place. But when he’d said those words, I imagined it washimhe was talking about.
His love for me.
Because, even though we’ve only been together a few days now, and not in anything close to a romantic relationship, my mind is spinning completely out of control. He’s a ray of light in this darkness.
He reaches up and brushes a strand of hair from my face.
What would his kiss feel like?
Would it be soft and tender? Fiery and passionate? Soul-stirring?
My gaze drops to his lips and then back up to his eyes. It’s wrong to be thinking about pressing his lips to mine when I’m currently fighting for the truth about my late husband, but I can’t keep my mind off him.
“We can’t do this,” he whispers, closing his eyes. His chest rises and falls rapidly, his breathing ragged.
“Do what?”
“This. Whatever is happening between us, Beckett, it’s bad timing.” He opens his eyes to look at me.
His words, true as they are, might as well be a dagger to my tattered heart.
Shawn runs a hand through his hair. “You’ve consumed me, Beckett, so much so that I’m not thinking clearly anymore. Just like I imagine you’re not.”
Calling it like he sees it.
And the worst part is that I know he’s right. “I feel so guilty because, even though I shouldn’t be, all I want is to...” I trail off. What can I say? That I want him to love me in the way I thought no one else ever would? In the way I am starting to doubt Paul did?
That, for the first time in over a decade, I have a sliver of hope that I won’t be alone forever?
