The taste of forbidden

21. Far from Me. [Part 1]

21. Far from Me.

Becket.

I slam my truck to a stop and march toward the house. I feel like I could rip the damn doorknob off with how hard I grab it—lucky for me, it’s unlocked.

I see Hank on the couch with Cass already asleep in his arms. I can’t be sure, but it looks like he woke up when I arrived. His face is full of confusion as he glances from the glowing TV to me, like he has no clue what the hell is going on.

I head to his fridge in search of the beers I know he always keeps stocked. Without thinking twice, I crack one open and pour it straight down my throat.

Hank watches me, and his confusion turns into concern when he sees me go for a second beer.

"Becket," he says, then glances at Cass in his arms and gently lays her on the couch before coming over to me.

I shake my head, grab another beer, and walk out to the porch. I rest one hand on the wooden railing, gripping it tightly while I drink more of the cold liquid.

Somehow, this is already my third beer.

"Becket, stop," Hank tries to take the bottle from my hand, but I shake my head and pull away. And part of me gets it. I grew up with a father who turned into a monster when he got drunk. Even though having a beer every now and then is normal for me, getting drunk isn’t.

The first and only time I got wasted was when I lost Cass.

"I f****d up," I say, crushing the empty can in my hand, staring out at this land that’s cost me so damn much.

"What happened?"

"I kissed her," I whisper, ignoring the way he starts choking, like my confession went straight down the wrong pipe.

A bitter laugh escapes me.

That bad, huh?

"What do you mean you kissed her?"

"I kissed her," I repeat, the memory flashing back.

But it wasn’t just a kiss, was it?

It was so much more.

For one second—one f*****g second—I was about to throw everything away and f**k her right there, out in the goddamn open.

What the hell is wrong with me?

"You kissed her?" he asks, disbelief in his voice. "Like, you were the one who made the move and kissed her? That’s what you’re telling me?"

"Yeah, I’m damn sure it was me who started it."

"You?" he repeats, rubbing a hand down his face, staring at me while muttering curses under his breath, like he’s trying to convince himself this isn’t some alternate reality—some trick of his brain.

"Yeah, me," I growl. "I kissed her. I basically devoured her mouth, bit her lips to the point of bruising." I close my eyes, remembering how red and swollen they were when I pulled away. "For a moment, I…"

I toss the can aside, frustrated.

"God…" Hank mutters, leaning on the railing next to me. "Just to be clear… you kissed her?"

"Jesus, Hank!" I shout, but then lower my voice when I glance at the house, where Cass is still asleep. "How the hell else do I say it? I kissed her. I kissed her. Me! I did it! You want every explicit detail or what the f**k?"

"Calm down!" he says, raising his hands in a peace offering. "Okay, I got it, you kissed her, but… s**t, Becket, I’ve known you since we were in diapers and I never thought you’d be the one to make the first move."

"Why the hell not?"

"You’ve got too much damn conscience to do something like that."

That same f*****g conscience made me leave her alone in bed, in her most vulnerable moment, pretending I believed her little act of being asleep, even though I knew from the start she was faking it.

But what other choice did I have?

Climb into bed with her?

I couldn’t.

God, I couldn’t.

"And from the look on your face," Hank says, "I don’t need to ask what happened after."

"What had to happen," I say, gripping the railing tighter. "I stopped us before we did something even more damning than that."

Hank sighs and falls silent, and in that silence, my mind goes straight to her. The way her fingers dug into my back, begging me not to leave her. Her whispered pleas, the tears on her cheeks, the confusion and pain in her eyes.

Will I ever be able to escape that?

I slam my fist into the wood, swallowing my own pain.

"But why?"

"What?"

"Why?" Hank asks again. "If you both wanted it, if no one’s getting hurt, why stop?"

"She’s my brother’s wife," I almost yell.

"Widow," he corrects.

"Same f*****g thing to me," I growl. "And you think that’s it? No, there’s more to it."

"What do you mean?"

"You know who Lia Callahan really is?" I start, knowing full well he doesn’t have a damn clue. "That sweet, simple girl you see here isn’t the same woman out there, in the real world."

"What?"

"She grew up in a golden cradle," I tell him. "Her dad, her brother, her whole family’s got insane money, Hank."

He lets out a short laugh.

"And you don’t?" he counters. "You’re one of the richest damn ranchers in the whole state, Becket."

I shake my head.

"It’s not the same, man. It’s not about money—it’s about the life she’s used to. Out there—" I motion to the horizon, "her life is London to New York like it’s a quick trip to the store. Designer clothes, perfect hair, shoes that’d fall apart out here. The events she goes to? They’re not county fairs where pigs get roasted for dinner. Her events are champagne-soaked parties with London’s high society. Wouldn’t be shocked if she’s rubbed shoulders with royalty."

"So what?" he asks, not understanding.

Is he not hearing me?

"How long do you think she’ll last here?"

"I don’t see her lasting," he says. "I see her healing."

"And when she’s healed, then what?" I ask. "She’s twenty-eight, Hank. Her whole life is still ahead of her. This stage, this grief, this moment—it’ll just be a memory she laughs about someday, when she finds the right man. Not her brother-in-law who’s fifteen years older than her."

"Becket…"

"I don’t want to betray Lucas," I tell him. "I don’t want to betray him for something that’s doomed to be temporary from the start."

Hank presses his lips together, looking at me in a way that makes me turn away under the weight of it.

"f**k, Beck," he whispers. "Loretta really screwed us up, didn’t she?"

I close my eyes and nod.

"I already lost enough once," I admit. "A loss that—over a decade later—I’m still trying to recover from."

He knows I’m talking about Cassidy.

The last time I was naïve enough to think this life could be enough for a woman, I lost more than I’ll ever get back.

I can’t give in to what I feel—not when it would mean losing Lia and my loyalty to Lucas. I still remember the pictures, the society articles I found online about her and her family. I’d be a damn fool to think Lia would settle for this.

Maybe if she were just some ordinary woman, I’d take the risk.

But she’s not.

She’s my brother’s wife.

There’s too much to lose.

Too much for something that could last just a second.

"I get your fears, I really do," Hank says quietly, a little embarrassed, but then his voice sharpens. "But it’s absolute bullshit that you’re making that girl pay for Loretta’s sins."

"I’m not—"

"Yeah, you are. You’re putting them on the same damn scale when they couldn’t be more different."

"I’m not comparing them," I growl. "I wouldn’t feel what I feel for her if she were anything like Loretta."

"Then why?"

"Because I’m not naïve. Life’s handed me enough s**t to know that an angel like her wouldn’t be happy here. Not with me."

He sighs, looking at me with what might be the closest thing to compassion.

"I don’t even know what to say. You seem so damn sure."

I just nod, gripping the wood until pain shoots through my palms… but no physical pain could match what I feel inside.

---

I wake up to soft fingers poking my cheek.

"Cass?" I blink open my eyes, holding my head when the pounding hits hard. "Fuck."

"f**k," she echoes, eyes twinkling with amusement.

"Both of you, come eat," I hear Hank say from the kitchen.

I don’t move from the couch. I can’t.

I’m still trying to stop the world from spinning.

"Becket, come on," Hank calls again. "And stop cussing in front of Cass, or I’ll never get her to stop."

"Important question," I hear her say, the chair screeching loudly as she pulls it out to sit.

I wince at the sound.

"s**t, Cassidy…" I rub my palms into my eyes.

"Are you going to be my mom now, Uncle Beck?" she asks with fake, syrupy sweetness. "Are you and my dad finally going to confess your love and live openly as a gay couple? I wouldn’t mind."

"You little s**t," I hear Hank say with a laugh, followed by her giggles as he tickles her.

"I’m going to the bathroom," is all I get out before I run to throw up all the beer I drank last night.

Barely remembering, I think Hank carried Cass to her room and gave me the couch. I didn’t want to go home—didn’t want to risk passing by Lia’s cabin.

God knows what I would’ve done in the state I was in last night.

I clean up and come back.

"You got school today?" I ask, noticing her uniform.

"Yeah, and I’m late because of you," she says, pushing past me to get to the bathroom.

"You okay?" Hank asks, removing his apron and setting it aside.

I blink. For a moment, I feel like I’m living someone else’s life.

"You cook?"

"Who’d you think would do it now that Loretta’s gone?"

I close my eyes and nod.

Right.

When I finally sit awkwardly at the table, he slides a plate of bacon and eggs in front of me.

"Eat."

But I shake my head—if I eat, I’ll puke again.

"Remember, we’ve gotta fix the cattle sheds. They’re forecasting storms and heavy rain tonight."

Shit, I’d forgotten.

My headache worsens.

"You take care of it after you drop Cass off at school," I tell him.

I need a shower.

"You’re not eating?" he asks as I get up.

"No. See you in a bit," I wave vaguely. "Sweetheart, I’m leaving!" I call out to Cass.

"Don’t get drunk again!"

"Yeah, yeah," I mumble.

It takes me longer than usual to start the truck and head home. My movements are sluggish. And the damn headache won’t quit. When I get there, I park in the driveway and climb out, still a bit unsteady. My eyes are so focused on Lia’s cabin, I don’t watch where I’m going—and I walk right into… her.

"Sorry," I say instinctively, holding her shoulders to steady her.

She’s coming from my house, I realize, which probably means Rose invited her to breakfast and Lia said yes.

Part of me is relieved—it means she’s not going to ignore me like I feared.

After rejecting her vulnerability yesterday, I was afraid Lia would retreat back into her shell because of me.

But that relief is short-lived, because she stares at the ground and steps aside to escape my touch and keep walking, just as shy as she was on the first day.

No—not like the first day.

Lia’s no longer a broken-winged bird, but the spark she used to have with me… is gone.

I swallow, turn around, and watch her walk away.

I open my mouth, wanting to call her name, but… what would I say?

In the end, I just clench my hands into fists and move on with my day.

[1/2]