CHAPTER FIVE
BECKETT
I have lost my damn mind.
There’s no other explanation for it.
I didn’t see her when I first stepped out of the back entrance of the cafe, a box of cookies tucked under my arm and my mind still back in my parent’s driveway. My dad hasn’t brought up his accident in close to ten years. Certainly not what happened after. I was so caught up in trying to untangle that particular knot, I didn’t notice her until I was stepping off the curb, heading back to my truck down the street.
It was her hair first, the wind lifting it and swinging it over her shoulder. Jet black and curling at the ends, brushing against smooth brown skin. The sharp cut of her cheekbones and the soft swell of her bottom lip caught between her teeth as she stared a hole in the side of the unfamiliar car.
Seeing her standing there in a coat that was far too thin, a second shy of shivering right out of her boots, it felt like grabbing an exposed wire. I did that once, when I was replacing the bulbs that wind their way through the fields at the farm. It zipped right up my arm, a sharp and brilliant surge.
It took me a second to catch my breath.
“You are an absolute fucking idiot, Beckett Porter.” I shove another cookie in my mouth with a huff and watch the headlights behind me rise and fall as we turn into the farm. The butter and sugar is doing absolutely nothing for me. I glance out the passenger side window as I rumble past Stella’s cottage on the edge of the pumpkin patch, relieved when I see her windows are dark. The last thing I need is Stella and Luka with a pair of binoculars, riling up the phone tree.
Pretend this is the first time we’re meeting. What a dumb fucking thing to say. Like I can forget the way she looked tangled in the sheets. A smile that tasted like lime and salt.
My foot edges on the gas and I grunt. Stupid. I have no idea why I invited Evelyn—the same woman who left me without a word in a hotel room—to stay indefinitely. My house is big, sure, but not that big.
I turn down the winding dirt road that leads to my cabin, the way marked by flickering solar lanterns. I installed them last month when Luka got lost trying to cut across the fields from my place to Stella’s after one too many beers. Stella called a half an hour after he left, asking where he went. I found him wandering in the southeast fields by the carrots.
I pull into the driveway and cut the engine, watching as three little furry heads appear in the window one after the other. I can’t help smiling despite the tension twisting my neck. It’s nice to have something to come home to, even if they tear my furniture to shit.
Evelyn is busy wrestling an oversized duffle from the backseat of her car as I climb out of the truck. “You need help?”
She shakes her head and grabs a rolling suitcase as well. I try not to read too much into it. If she wants to have a little ambiguity about what she’s doing here and for how long, that’s fine. I feel like I have at least one person in my life withholding information at any given time. What’s another?
Three cats jostle for my attention as soon as I open the door and I scoop them in my arms, letting them crawl up my jacket to settle across my shoulders. They’re still tiny, not growing much since we found them curled up in the corner of the barn. Comet, Cupid, Vixen. It was a little on the nose when I named them, but it felt appropriate for a family of cats that live on a Christmas tree farm. I glance around the open living room and spot Prancer stretched out in front of the fireplace, her head resting on the stone. She opens one eye and lazily bats her paw in the air, as enthusiastic a hello as I ever get from her. Good to see she found her way back after this morning’s joyride on the tractor.
The door shuts behind me, and I watch Evelyn place her bags by the door, stepping hesitantly into the space. All four cats stop what they’re doing and stare at her like she’s just tossed a handful of their kibble up in the air like confetti.
She blinks, her dark eyes wide.
“This is,” she looks around the room. A smile loosens every bit of her body when Prancer decides she’s not a threat, does a full body stretch, and promptly falls right back to sleep. She looks at me. “This is not what I expected.”
Feeling sheepish, I glance around the space and try to see what’s unexpected about it. It’s fairly simple in terms of furniture and decor. Big, oversized second hand couches, worn and well-loved, a couple of blankets thrown over the back. The kittens went through a clawing phase and I’d rather not have stuffing spilling over me every time I sit down. A dark red rug beneath to keep the floors warm in the winter. Shelves on either side of the fireplace, haphazardly stacked with books. A giant canvas between—a field of wildflowers painted by Nova, red and yellow and pale, pale pink.
My coffee mug from this morning is still sitting on the edge of the table and I grab it on my way into the kitchen, sliding the leftovers from dinner into the fridge.
“You want something to eat?”
I barely catch her soft no in response, her feet carrying her over to one of the big windows that looks out over the fields. In the morning, sunlight fills this whole space until it’s fit to burst, the hills rolling out behind the house in a patchwork quilt of green and gold. Right now, darkness cloaks everything beyond the wooden porch. Instead of rows and rows of sturdy green trees, I only see Evelyn’s reflection. Fingertips at her lips and high cheekbones. Big brown eyes. I stare a second too long, something scratching at my throat.
I swallow around it.
“I’ll show you your room.” I snap the refrigerator door closed and collect all the scattered pieces of myself. It’s one night, maybe, and then she’ll be on her way. Off to the next adventure, the next exciting thing. I’m a stopping point. I’m barely a stopping point. One she never even wanted to have.
I need to remember that.
I slip out of the kitchen and down the hallway that leads to the bedrooms. The house is all one level, the upstairs a giant, unrenovated storage space with ancient floorboards that creak beneath the slightest pressure. Nessa uses it for dance rehearsal sometimes, when her usual studio is rented or occupied. I thought she was going to come right through the ceiling the last time she was here, the gentle pitter patter of her feet interrupted by booming shakes as she practiced jump after jump. The cats had not been thrilled.
I push open the door for the first room on the left and flick on the light with my elbow, grabbing Comet from her place in my neck just for something to do with my hands. I rub her head with my knuckles and poke my head into the attached bath to make sure Nova or Harper haven’t left a heap of wet towels clumped in the corner. All of the bedrooms have an attached bathroom. It’s a remnant, I think, from when this oversized house used to be a lodge.
It’s no wonder it went out of business. The only things I’ve seen to hunt around here are a couple of squirrels and a wayward deer. A fox that Stella’s named Guinevere.
“Are you running a bed and breakfast on the side?”
Evelyn collapses onto the bed with a happy little sigh and I immediately avert my gaze to the trunk full of extra sheets and blankets at the foot of the bed.
“Some days it feels like it,” I mutter. If one of my sisters isn't here crashing in a spare room, it’s Layla, working too late at the bakery and too damn tired to drive herself home. Or Luka, saying he needs guy time and pretending he’s actually going to stay the entire night instead of wandering back to Stella’s before midnight. Or Charlie, Stella’s half-brother, snoring so loud the rafters shake with it.
“Blankets are in the trunk,” I tell her. I grab Vixen from the back of my neck where she’s valiantly trying to climb to the top of my head. Cupid leaps from me to the bed and kneads her little tiny pink paws into the pillow. Evelyn reaches out a hand and smoothes her palm down the kitten’s back. “Spare towels in the bathroom. You’re welcome to anything you find.”
I feel awkward, uncomfortable, kicked out of orbit and floundering to find my way back. I clear my throat twice. “I’ll be up and out early, but help yourself to whatever you need.”
“I won’t be in your space long,” she says quietly. “Jenny is supposed to ring the phone tree tomorrow. Find me a place to stay.”
A lot of good that will do. The phone tree is easily the most useless thing in this town. I ignore the flip in my stomach and the spike of protest that flares in response. I’m confused by the reaction. I have no reason to want her to stay any longer than she needs to, but I’ve always been a bit out of my mind where Evelyn is concerned.
“Alright,” is what I settle on, collecting the cats in my arms and turning to leave. I’m afraid of what I’ll do if I stay in this bedroom a second longer. If I took two steps forward, my knees would knock into hers. I could place my hand next to her hip and lean over her, pin her down to the mattress with my hips. She’s nothing but temptation splayed out on the bed like that, windswept and warm.
I picked this bedroom for a reason. It’s the very furthest from mine on the opposite side of the house.
“Beckett?”
I glance up from where I’ve been trying to untangle Vixen’s claws from my sleeve cuff and focus on Evelyn, sitting in a wedge of moonlight that filters in through the window. She looks tired, her hair beginning to slip from her ponytail, her white button down wrinkled with travel, one of the sleeves half rolled and the other caught at her elbow. She is deliciously unraveled, a little blurred around the edges, and I only want to mess her up a little bit more.
She gazes up at me, and I shove the urge away.
“Thank you,” she says, voice whisper soft.
I breathe in deep through my nose.
“It’s no problem.”
It won’t be. She’ll stay here, she’ll find what she needs, and she’ll be on her way. It’ll be fine.
I’ll be fine.