Page 60 of Make it a Double

I couldn’t let him take this baby away.

“Pull over,” I whispered, closing my eyes and clutching my stomach.

“What—”

“Pull. Over,” I bit out, already reaching for the door handle as he pulled off the road. The moment I felt the car stop, I unbuckled my seatbelt and nearly leaped from the vehicle, sucking in lungfuls of ice-cold air. It wasn’t enough. Not nearly.

Hands cupped my face, sliding down to the nape of my neck where my pulse was hammering wildly. “Breathe,” Beckett commanded. His voice brokered no room for argument, yet there was a surprising gentleness to it.

“I can’t⁠—”

“Breathe,” he said again. “In for three. One, two, three. Then hold.” I did as he said, still keeping my eyes squeezed tight. I didn’t trust myself to look at him. If I did, I just might crumble on the side of the road. “And out for three. One, two, three.” When I did as he asked, he repeated himself two more times. I followed his instructions perfectly, taken back to a time that was not so different from this. A time when the roles were reversed, and I talked him through that stupid ferris wheel ride that changed everything.

I opened my eyes, surprised to find him staring at me with so much concern that it made my heart literally ache. I considered myself relatively levelheaded. I wasn’t someone who often got worked up into such a frenzy that I struggled to calm down. But it seemed that nothing made sense when it came to Beckett and me. We were polar opposites. We didn’t make sense on paper, or in real life. Yet here he was, comforting me when he was the one who’d been in need of reassurance.

I waited a beat.

I waited two more.

Then I surged forward, wrapped my arms around his neck, and crashed my lips to his.

I wasn’t sure why I did it. Maybe because I hadn’t stopped wondering if our chemistry had really been that good or if it’d been all in my head. Maybe because I just needed something to break me out of the spiral I’d unintentionally put myself in. Either way, it worked.

At least, it did until I felt him pull back. His hands came up, extricating himself from my hold. Tears formed along my lashes, threatening to spill over as I looked up and found his eyes so full of pity. It was a gut punch. It made me sick. Here I was, throwing myself at him when we’d both come to the realization that nothing short of one of us sacrificing everything would give us the outcome we wanted.

“I’m so sorry,” I rushed out, stepping back and covering my mouth. I hated how good it’d felt. Hated how much I wanted to do it again.

Even if I told myself it was just my hormones, I would’ve been a dirty liar.

“Don’t be,” he said cautiously. “It wasn’t that I didn’t enjoy it⁠—”

“I shouldn’t have done that. I don’t know why I did.” I spun around, hand hovering over my mouth and muttering quietly to myself, “Oh my god. I’m so stupid. Why did I do that?”

“Sawyer, hey,” Beckett said, gently grabbing hold of my arm and moving around my body to face me. “It’s okay. It’s fine. It didn’t mean anything.”

Maybe it didn’t for him, but unfortunately for me, it meant more than I wanted to admit. I’d spent so long putting Beckett into a locked box at the back of my mind and telling myself it was all in my head. That the witty banter and easy going comfort I felt when I was with him was something I’d concocted, or that the goosebumps that’d peppered my skin when we’d kissed was just a chill.

But I couldn’t pretend anymore. The box had busted open, lying front and center, letting all those suffocated emotions spill out. No matter how hard I tried to shut the lid and lock it tight, it refused to budge. Kissing him for the first time had changed my life in so many ways. Kissing him again six months later had the same effect. Only this time, there would be no eager car ride back to his cabin, nor would I slip beneath his sheets and burn alive with his touch.

Friends, friends, friends. That was what we agreed to. Nothing more and nothing less. Why did I have to go and fuck that up?

We stood on the side of the road, staring at one another like complete idiots. Both afraid to move or say or do anything lest we fuck up further.

Finally, after a tense bout of silence, I hung my head. “Can you drop me off at the diner?” I asked, voice barely above a whisper. “Duke and Liv can take me home.”

Beckett glanced away, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed down whatever he was about to say. I didn’t wait to see if that changed. I reached the door, tugged it open, and slowly slipped inside. He stayed there for a moment before following suit. He didn’t slam the door or show his frustration.

He simply started the car and turned back down Main Street toward Lucy’s diner, driving the rest of the way in silence.

BECKETT

Whatever the appropriate response was to being kissed by the woman carrying your child… I’d fucked it up.

The moment Sawyer’s lips touched mine, I’d wanted nothing more than to pull her closer. I wanted to touch her body, see the imprint of my fingers against her skin. To worship her the way she deserved. The way I’d been dreaming about for six months.

But I didn’t. I couldn’t. She’d been in the middle of a full-blown panic attack only seconds before, and the kiss had likely been nothing more than her body’s way of snapping her out of it. A miscalculated risk that she’d end up regretting. There was no way I could take advantage of her like that without knowing it was what she truly wanted, and I had no way of doing that while her pulse hammered wildly beneath my palms.

It was only after I pulled away that I noticed the twinge of hurt staring back at me. I wouldn’t say I regretted my choice not to give in, but I wasn't confident either. No matter how many times I told myself it wouldn’t have been appropriate to kiss her back, that look in her eyes would haunt me.