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Will was never one for the bullshit. He could read me like a worn-out book. “I’ve been losing my mind, Will. There’s so much going on, I don’t know where to even focus.” I put a hand on my face, closed my eyes. “I don’t know. I don’t know.”
“Well, let’s start with what you’re worried about the most.”
“Okay, yeah, let’s start with the fact that ever since someone threatened me, I haven’t felt safe. And it’s not fair, Will. I want freaking closure, not death threats thrown through my window. It’s been quiet, but maybe it’s because they think Beckham’s backed off. Thing is, he hasn’t. And he won’t. He’s like a hound dog on the scent.” I slumped into the love seat next to Mason and Jar’s cat tree. There were scratches in the dark green fabric on the side of the chair. “And I don’t think I want him to stop his hunt either. I think he’s getting close, and that’s why they’re trying to scare us off.”
“Olly… maybe it’s not a bad idea. Calling it off.” Will looked up from the glass of water in his hands. His eyes were filled with concern. “I don’t want anything happening to you. And if we can just let this lie, leave it alone, then maybe you can move past it and you won’t have to put your life in danger. Or Beckham’s life.”
That last part stung me like a surprise sting from a bee. Of course I’d been concerned about myself, but I was dumb in thinking I’d be the sole attention of whoever wanted this over. When they saw their threats weren’t working with me, maybe they’d turn to Beckham. Maybe they’d turn to more extreme measures, ones that went past breaking windows with a frozen pig’s head.
My palms turned clammy as the saliva dried in my mouth almost instantly. “It’s scary,” I said, the words scratching against my throat. “I don’t know. I’ll have to talk with Beck. He’s interviewing a big suspect today.” I glanced at the clock on the wall. It was four in the afternoon. “He should have been done soon. Maybe this entire saga will be over before tonight.”
Will dropped his gaze back down to his glass. “Yeah, maybe.” He sighed. “What a fucked-up situation, huh?”
“Very.”
“But you met the man of your dreams from it, huh?”
“Yeah… I think I did.” I looked out the window over my shoulder, hoping to see Beckham’s black Nissan pulling up to the parking spot right outside my building.
I may have found the man of my dreams, but I also lost the man of my dreams in the process. It was the definition of bittersweet. I swallowed and tore my gaze from the empty parking spot.
“So you like him a lot, huh?”
For some reason, Will’s question sounded like the understatement of the year.
“I really like him, Will. Like… Ilike him, like him.”
“Oh, two likes, huh?”
I laughed, feeling the light inside me grow brighter at the thought of Beckham and my connection with him. It was like I held a star inside my ribs, and it only burned when Beckham crossed my mind. Before I knew it, I was speaking, not thinking much of the words falling from my lips. “Will, it’s not even a joke… I love that man. I love him so much.”
Will seemed a little taken aback by my declaration. It was the first time I told Will. Saying that I loved Beckham felt like one of the most natural things in the world. Words I knew how to say before I even learned the alphabet, and yet Will’s face looked like he’d been hit with a whip. I felt bad not having told him from the start. It was difficult, though, and I could sense Will was having a hard time with it, too. Me gaining Beckham meant less time I spent with my best friend, and that combined with Will’s breakup wasn’t making for a good time.
“Love him, huh?”
I took a breath. “Yeah. I do. And I can’t ever stop myself from loving him.”
“You shouldn’t.”
“But then it makes things so much scarier, you know? Because I love him, the stakes are just that much higher. I don’t want to lose him. I know how loss feels; I know how badly it hurts. I can’t lose him.”
“And why would you?”
I shrugged, acting as though I hadn’t anxiously drawn up a hundred different scenarios where Beckham would walk away from me, leaving me behind to devolve into a crying sludge pile of flesh and bones.
“I don’t know,” I answered, deciding to keep things simple. “It’s just scary. I haven’t felt like this about anyone since… well, not since, Derrick.”
Will winced, as though the pain of losing Derrick was as fresh to him as it was to me. And I wouldn’t doubt it either. Derrick and Will were always close. I loved hanging out, just us three, shooting the shit and having a good time. We’d watch dumb reality TV and drink boxed wine and have a ball.
“It just means Beckham is that special,” Will said. “He woke something up in you. Something no one else could.”
“He really did.” I threw another nervous glance over my shoulder. Parking spot still empty.
I jumped when I felt a hand land on my knee. Will pulled back like he had touched a hot oven. “Sorry, I was just going to ask for more water.”
“Yeah of course, Will. You don’t have to ask.” I grabbed the empty glass off the coffee table and stood. “Twinkling titties, you spooked me.”
Will chuckled at that and followed me into the kitchen. “I didn’t think you were so offended by my touch.”
