20. Need and loss. [Part 2]
1956 Words
Becket stops in front of me, looking at me in a tense silence that’s becoming a habit between us, until he says, “You came.”
I nod, pressing my lips into a small, closed-mouth smile.
His gaze briefly drops to the short overalls Autumn convinced me to wear, but his eyes quickly return to my face, a slight blush on his cheeks.
I bite my lip, having no idea what to say.
“Want to help me finish handing out the jam? We’ve only got a few left.”
Again, all I do is nod.
He gestures for me to follow, and I do. I greet Beau with a smile and sit in the chair Beck pulls up for me to sit beside him. There’s only one box of jam left, I notice. I stay with him as he hands out the last jars, which takes maybe half an hour. Once there’s nothing left to give, we take down the booth and pack everything away. Beau loads the stuff into a pickup parked down the street and drives off, leaving us alone.
“What made you decide to come?” Beck asks.
“Autumn can be pretty persistent,” I lie, because I can’t bring myself to tell him that the only reason I’d tolerate this is him.
“Ah…” he scratches his neck, looking at me like he’s unsure what else to say.
And I hate this. I hate the awkward tension, the unspoken words, the uncertainty between us.
But even so, he still comes every night.
That must mean something, right? — I cling to that thought.
Maybe it’s not me that makes him uncomfortable. Maybe it’s everything we’re not saying, making the air between us so heavy.
But… how do you cross a line that delicate?
Do we even want to cross it?
Do we even want to admit it’s there?
“I miss you,” I say—the words escape before I can stop them, ready to cause potential destruction in their wake.
Becket blinks, his shoulders slumping in a loud exhale, like my words knocked the air from his lungs.
“I’m here,” is all he says.
I glance around, fidgeting with the frayed hem of my shorts, before finding the courage to ask, “Are you?”
“Lí, babe…”
I close my eyes, letting the nickname he gave me wrap around me like a hug.
“I don’t want to lose you… ever,” I whisper so softly.
When tears fill my eyes, he curses and closes the distance between us in one stride. I let out the breath I didn’t realize I was holding, my arms sliding up his back until I’m gripping his shoulders. My cheek rests on his chest, and his big body practically engulfs me as he holds me tight.
“I’m sorry,” I sob into his chest, eyes closed as I breathe him in. “I’ve been so emotional lately, I don’t even know why.”
“Wanna walk around the fair? See if you like anything, get your mind off things.”
I don’t want to, but I don’t want to go back to the ranch either, where we’ll both go our separate ways. There are still hours before bedtime, and I’m too hungry for his presence to let go of him… even if the price is staying here.
I pull away and discreetly wipe my tears, then smile and nod, giving in to his offer.
As we walk past the booths, I step a little closer to him to breathe him in, needing to focus on something that’ll calm me down—otherwise I’ll end up running away from this place.
There’s so much music, so much laughter, so many lights… so many people.
It’s exhausting.
“Cass and Hank didn’t come?” I ask, needing to talk about something, anything to distract me from the noise.
“Hank’s afraid Loretta might make a scene again, so they stayed home watching movies and eating ice cream…” he pauses, a look of realization crossing his face as he says, “Lia, you…”
My eyes widen slightly at the reproach in his tone.
“What?”
“Is that why you’re here?” he asks. “Because you’re afraid she’ll cause a scene and…?”
He doesn’t finish the sentence, but of course I understand. I don’t give him a verbal answer—I just look away and stay quiet. But that’s answer enough for him.
I look at him again when he grabs my hand and starts pulling me away from the crowd.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“Getting you out of a place you don’t want to be in.”
“Becket…” I try to stop him, but it’s useless.
When he opens the truck door for me, I climb in. I watch him as he walks around to the driver’s side and gets in beside me. But he doesn’t start the engine. Becket leans his head against the seat, staring at some blank spot in front of him.
I pick at the fabric of the seat with my nail… waiting, waiting, waiting.
My heart’s in my throat, my stomach twisted up in nervous knots as I wait anxiously for his next words.
“Do you want to go somewhere else?”
“Yes,” I say instantly, making him smile.
I’m too nervous to smile back, but my heart calms a little, the pounding softening.
Becket pulls away from the festival, taking us down a dark, unpaved rural road. From how isolated it is, I know it’s a place few people pass by.
“Where are we going?” I ask, curious, as he veers up a small hill.
“Somewhere quiet.”
When he finally parks at the top, I let out a breath at the beautiful view. In the distance, we can see the town lights. But if you look up at the sky, the stars shine so brightly they look close enough to touch.
And there’s silence—a silence that’s gently interrupted when Beck turns on his stereo, playing soft music that only adds to the calm.
I look at him, studying his eyes as this moment feels like a gift he’s giving me… and I smile.
I push open the door and step out, leaving it open so the gentle music can still be heard, and walk into the soft field of grass beneath us.
“It’s beautiful,” I tell him honestly.
He leans against the hood of the car, one foot crossed over the other, watching me with an expression that’s somewhere between tender and proud.
There’s so much peace… so much.
With a happy sigh, I let myself fall into the grass beneath us. At first it prickles against my bare thighs and legs, but I quickly get used to the feeling.
I glance over my shoulder, toward him.
Becket is looking at me with the softest expression I’ve ever seen.
“Better?” he asks, slowly walking toward me.
He means the festival.
“Yes, way better.” The exaggeration in my voice makes him laugh, but then his face turns serious—so much that I can’t ignore it.
“What?” I ask.
“You don’t have to force yourself to go to places you don’t want to be in… not for me.”
“Beck…”
“Not even because of that instinct you have to… protect me.” The last word comes out so low, the wind almost carries it away.
When he drops beside me, I turn my eyes forward again, because being this close clouds my thoughts.
I pull my knees up, resting my chin on them. My eyes are on the landscape, but my heart… it’s looking at him.
“Becket…” I whisper.
“Mmm?”
“I lied to you.”
“About what?”
“When I told you I’ve been emotional and didn’t know why. That was a lie.”
Even though I feel his eyes on me, I still don’t have the courage to meet his gaze.
“What’s wrong, babe?”
Aside from the emotional chaos that is my mind?
Everything.
I take a deep breath, preparing for what I’m about to say.
“Two days ago, I found a medical summary I didn’t even know I had in my email.”
“Lia…”
“It’s the only record and proof I have of the eight-week pregnancy I lost.”
The words fall heavy between us, with all the emotional weight and loss they carry. I’m crying, and I didn’t even notice when the tears started.
“You don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want to.”
“I’ve never talked about it with anyone,” I admit. “It’s too painful.”
No one knows. Not even my family. It’s something I always wanted to keep to myself. I felt selfish about my baby—I didn’t want to share his memory with anyone. I didn’t want to share him with anyone. But… this is Becket.
When it comes to him, there’s nothing I wouldn’t give.
“I was a month pregnant when Lucas died, but it was so early I didn’t even notice. I was so lost in my grief that I didn’t even realize I’d missed my period… until a month later, when I started bleeding more than usual.”
“Babe, you don’t have to tell me this.”
“But I want to…” I turn to him, eyes full of tears as I say, “I wouldn’t share my baby with anyone but you.”
Becket reaches out, wiping the tears still streaming down my face.
“Then I’m here.”
I close my eyes, leaning into his touch as I let myself remember.
“I went to the doctor without even suspecting it,” I confess. “I just thought it was a bad, painful period because of all the emotions I was dealing with. I thought they’d give me antibiotics or something to stop the bleeding. Of course… that’s not what happened.”
“And your family?”
I shake my head.
“It was one of those rare days I was home alone at my parents’ place, so no one noticed,” I say, feeling him move a little closer. I move toward him too, gripping his wrist with both hands while his palm continues cupping my cheek, his thumb still wiping my tears. “When I came home late, they were freaking out with worry, but I gave them some excuse I honestly don’t even remember.”
I kiss the inside of his wrist, pressing myself closer to his hand as I whisper, “It’s my fault.”
“Lia, no…”
“Yes,” I sob, squeezing my eyes shut. “I was so messed up after Lucas died… I wasn’t eating, I wasn’t sleeping… I didn’t take care of myself, I didn’t take care of my baby… and then he was gone. He left me too.”
“You don’t know if it was your fault.”
“There’s no clear cause,” I say, repeating what the doctor told me over and over again. “There could’ve been a lot of reasons, but I…”
“It wasn’t your fault,” he says again, holding my face with both hands, his voice fervent and filled with certainty.
“That’s how it felt,” I whisper, opening my eyes slowly to meet the sweetness in his. “I felt like it was my fault… like I killed him.”
[2/3]
- Writer
