Total pages in book: 167
Estimated words: 164557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 823(@200wpm)___ 658(@250wpm)___ 549(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 164557 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 823(@200wpm)___ 658(@250wpm)___ 549(@300wpm)
I let out a bitter laugh, rubbing my face. “You have no idea.”
“But you’re a good kid, Will. I’ve seen how you treat Beck, how you’ve been there for him when he needed someone. You’ve got a good heart.”
I blink at the unexpected praise. “Thanks, but my dad doesn’t see it that way. He wants me to fall in line, do what I’m told.”
James sighs. “Yeah, some blokes think their way is the only way. They don’t realize that their kids need to find their own path, make their own mistakes.”
“I just want to be my own person, but every time I try, he shuts me down. He doesn’t care what I want.”
“I’m sorry. It’s tough when the people who’re supposed to care the most don’t give you the support you need. I went through that with my own dad. Beck’s gramps. Took him a long time to see me as a real, fully formed human and not an extension of himself.”
A lump forms in my throat, all the years of trying to live up to my father’s expectations suddenly overwhelming me. “That’s exactly it. I’m an extension. And I wish he could see me for who I am, not who he wants me to be.”
James touches my shoulder, and for a moment, I think I might actually break down and cry.
“You’re a good kid,” he repeats, firmer this time. “And don’t let anyone, not even your father, make you feel like you’re not enough.”
Before I know what’s happening, he pulls me in for a hug, a simple gesture of comfort and support that is wholly alien to me. I stand there, frozen for a moment, before finally allowing myself to relax into the embrace, a wave of emotion washing over me.
He releases me with a lighthearted clap on the back, and my throat tightens to the point of asphyxiation. A strange mix of gratitude and sadness is lodged in my windpipe, the ache of something I’ve never really had. A dad who cares more about me than about appearances.
“Thanks,” I mumble, clearing my throat as I try to regain my composure. “I needed to hear that.”
“Anytime, mate. And remember, you’re not alone. You’ve got people who care about you, who have your back. With that said…” He pauses for a beat, his expression growing somber. “We need to talk about Charlotte.”
I frown. “What about her?”
“Beckett told me about your…arrangement. How you’re both with her. Or you’re all with each other. I still don’t really get how it works. But you know what I mean.”
I blink in surprise. I wasn’t expecting that. I eye him, trying to play it cool, but he’s waiting for me to say something, and I can’t exactly deny it.
So I just shrug.
“Honestly, I’m not here to judge. You’re all adults, and you can make your own choices. But I’m worried about Beckett.”
“Worried? Why?”
James scrubs a hand over his face like this conversation is weighing on him. “Beck’s been through a lot, more than he lets on, and I’m worried he’s chosen a relationship—this relationship—because he knows it won’t ever lead to anything long-term. It’s safer for him, you know? If it doesn’t last, he doesn’t have to get hurt again.”
I suck in a startled breath. I knew Beckett was guarded, but hearing it like this, spoken so bluntly by his dad, makes it feel more serious than I thought.
“I mean, yeah,” I say. “I know he’s been through stuff. He told me about his ex. How she cheated on him, and it really messed him up.”
James knits his brow. “Cheated? What ex are you talking about?”
“Shannon,” I say, now confused myself. “His high school girlfriend. He said she cheated on him, broke his heart, and that’s why he doesn’t let people get too close. It took him a long time to get over it.”
Something shifts in James’s expression. “Will…Shannon didn’t cheat on him.” He stops, like he’s trying to find the right words. “Shannon didn’t break his heart. She died.”
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
BECKETT
Shannon
I RETURN FROM MY AFTERNOON RENEWABLE ENERGY CLASS IN TIME TO say goodbye to my dad before he leaves for the airport. While the taxi waits at the curb, we exchange a hug and he playfully ruffles my hair, and then he gets into the back seat, and I watch the car disappear down the street.
Once it’s out of sight, I scroll through my phone contacts until I hit “Mum.” She answers after a couple of rings.
“Hi, sweetheart.”
I walk back to the porch. “Hey. Dad just got in the cab. He should be at the airport in an hour or so.”
“Oh good. Thank you for letting him stay with you, Beck.” She sighs. “I might have been…harsh.”
“When you kicked him out, you mean?” Snorting, I shut the front door behind me and go to the living room. “No, not harsh at all.”