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I gripped the counter as I remembered begging Beckett not to leave me last night. I was never drinking again.
I dug through my toiletry bag for my Advil. “Where is it?”
A rattle outside the door had me opening it a crack. Beckett stood there in his boxers with mussed hair and the blessed pill bottle. I snatched it from him and slammed the door.
His chuckle outside made me want to slam the door again for good measure. I didn’t know if I was more pissed at myself for getting into such a state or that he was so cheerful while I was ready to die.
I heard him moving around and the homey sounds only added to my misery. None of this had worked out how I’d imagined when I said yes to Laverne yesterday. Instead, I’d begged him to stay with my drunk idiot self.
Pathetic.
I stepped into the glass shower stall and fumbled with the knobs until the water was a degree away from scalding. By the time I’d unknotted my hair from the braids, then washed it and myself, I was spent. Another ten to twelve hours might make me feel human, but it was not meant to be.
I brushed the death out of my mouth and when I opened the door, the scent of eggs and fried potatoes nearly made me weep.
I padded out of the bedroom in the guest robe as I dried my hair with a towel. Beckett sat at the table near the window in the living room in a pair of jeans with the snap still open. His hair was still sleep-mussed and his scruff was heading toward a beard. But it was his chest and arm that gave me the most pause. Not just because of his truly mouthwatering musculature, though that was enough to stall my breath, but the network of bruises slashing across his ribs and the scrapes along his shoulder dissolved the last of my anger.
He and Kain might’ve been idiots for fighting, but he’d carried me while being that hurt? There was no way I could stay mad at him.
I wished I could remember him carrying me. Seemed a cruel twist of fate that I’d been passed out through most of it. I remembered snatches of time from the stairs to the bed, but the overall memory was of being safe.
Safe hadn’t been a large part of my life.
Held at arm’s length, treated as an afterthought, or as a stand-in made up the bulk of my encounters with men. The rest of the time I spent alone, even when I was at a crowded party.
“There you are. Feel better after a shower?”
“A little.”
He lifted a mug which looked as dainty as a teacup in his huge, scarred hand. “I wasn’t sure exactly what you liked, but I figured eggs were a safe bet.”
“A half hour ago, I’d have sworn I couldn’t eat a thing, but it smells amazing.”
The sun streamed over the table, showing off a bowl of strawberries and a domed plate. His plate was mostly scraped clean with cracked pepper and hot sauce remnants that reminded me of our impromptu dinner the day before.
He set the hot sauce in front of my plate with a grin. “You may not want this after last night’s abuse.”
“You’d be right.”
He lifted the dome off the plate and my stomach roared. He laughed. “The grease will soak up what’s left in your gut.”
“Know the recipe, do you?”
“A time or two.” He leaned back in the chair that was ridiculously small for his stature and wrapped both hands around his mug. “I was surprised to find out you were sticking around. Why didn’t you tell me?”
I stabbed at the garlicky potatoes and chewed thoughtfully. I paused a second to make sure there wouldn’t be a revolt, then I dug in. “It all happened so fast. I was hoping to talk to you.” I stared at my plate. “Thought maybe we could spend some time together, but then you and Kain…” I trailed off.
“Yeah, wasn’t my finest moment.” He winced and shifted in the chair. “Kain told me how you two knew each other.” He cleared his throat. “After.”
“Too bad you went with fists instead of talking first.”
“Seeing you with him like that.” He paused and drank from his mug.
I looked up. “Even if Kain and I had been previously involved, it had nothing to do with us.”
He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. “Helena, when it comes to you, I’m not exactly chill.”
I wasn’t sure what to say to that.
