Page 171 of Oddly Fine

Hayes was on the phone as Beckett hopped into the driver’s seat of his Jeep. His partner was humming quietly in agreement, but his jaw was firmly locked, the corner feathering with tension every now and again.

“And why is it any of my concern?” he asked, his tone surprisingly venomous.

Beckett didn’t want to interrupt but he hiked up an eyebrow at him.

“Your father wanted nothing to—” he was cut off and Beckett watched him clench his jaw tightly in order not to bite out a reply. It was several more minutes before he spoke again, and Beckett couldn’t have been more shocked by his partner’s sudden burst of temper.

“Then let it fucking burn!” Hayes snarled, before pressing end and shoving the phone into the cupholder in the center console.

And God, if that wasn’t Beckett’s influence on Hayes’ usual stoicism peeking through.

“Everything alright?” he asked, though it was obvious nothing was.

Hayes peered sideways at him, and though at first there was clear annoyance in his gaze, like the last thing he wanted was to rehash the conversation, he seemed to settle as he took in Beckett’s hesitant smile.

“My uncle died.”

“Thought your uncle already died,” Beckett said, confused.

“No, this time it was the other one. My father’s brother. The one who refused to take me in when my parents died,” he said, jaw clenched, clearly still angry about being rejected by that side of the family at such a young age.

“Good fucking riddance,” Beckett said, feeling no guilt whatsoever.

Hayes nodded slowly, but then shook his head.

“Except the fucker forgot to mention to his kids that they’d inherit nothing after his death. Not the house, not the family business, none of it.”

While that was certainly quite inconsiderate of the old man, Beckett wasn’t sure why it was putting Hayes in such a funk.

“Okayyyy—” Beckett waited him out, convinced there was a lot more to this story that he wasn’t getting. “He just hated everyone?” He proposed.

“No, because it was never his to begin with. It was mine. All of his inheritance is actually mine. He was supposed to keep it until I turned eighteen, but then, since he conveniently forgot to mention it, and I never showed any interest, he just kept the rights. Now that he’s dead though—”

“Everything reverts back to you,” Beckett realised.

Hayes nodded absentmindedly as he gazed out the windshield of the car.

“Who was on the phone?”

“My cousin. Since the reading of the will, no one there has any legal rights to the company, so they’ve had to put everything on hold.”

“What did he want?” Beckett asked, because he was slowly catching on to the reason for Hayes’ tension—fear.

“He wants me to go back. To go back home to the house where my parents were murdered and get my parents’ business back up and running.”

When he turned to look at Beckett, it was an entirely different man looking back at him. Not the confident SEAL, nor the stoic federal agent, but rather a young and vulnerable man. With wide startled eyes that had tears pooling in the corners, and shaky hands.

Beckett felt a surge of protective instincts take control. He reached for him. Caught both Hayes’ hands in his and squeezed them firmly until the tremors subsided.

“Oi, a little adventure in the British countryside sounds like a riot, dunnit?” He used his best British accent. It was butchered, and terrible, but it pulled a smile from his soulmate that ebbed the concern blooming in Beckett’s chest. Hayes leaned forward and wrapped Beckett in a tight hug. It was rather unusual for him to do so, so Beckett made sure to squeeze him warmly in return.

“We should have stuck to your plan,” Hayes said, as he rested his head on Beckett’s shoulder.

“Which one of my amazingly brilliant plans are you talking about?” he asked, hoping to keep things light and playful.

“Never leaving the house again. It’s nothing but hellfire and chaos out there,” he said, recalling Beckett words of advice.

Beck chuckled and pressed a kiss beneath Hayes’ ear.

“Bah—what’s life without a little chaos, Nancy?”