Текст книги "Butterfly Dreams"

Автор книги: A. Meredith Walters

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Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

Chapter 15

Beckett

I held my phone in my hand, wanting to call her.

Would that be too pushy?

Was I being desperate?

Probably. I had become a giant pile of vagina where Corin Thompson was concerned.

“Man, seriously, either make a call or put the thing away.” Aaron and Bryan had talked me into going with them to the park. I hadn’t wanted to, knowing how much it sucked the last time I had gone, only to sit on the sidelines watching everyone else do something I used to love.

“Shut up. Just give me a minute.”

I dialed her number and held it to my ear, trying to be cool. Trying being the operative word.

“Wow, texting and calling. To what do I owe the honor?” Corin said by way of greeting.

“Keeping tabs, are you?” I joked in return.

“I’m not the one with the stalker tendencies,” she teased, and I could hear some noise in the background.

“I know you’re at the shop, I just wanted to call and tell you again that I had a great time last night.”

“Me too. A lot more than I thought I would,” she admitted, and I laughed.

“Did you think it would suck? Why in the world would you agree to a date if you thought it was going to blow?”

“Eh, I wanted to put you out of your misery.”

“Beck, hurry up! The guys are here!” Bryan yelled, and I flipped him off.

“It sounds like your presence is being requested.”

“They can wait,” I muttered.

“I feel special,” Corin remarked.

“You are.” I couldn’t help being a total sap with her. It made my teeth hurt but the cheesy romantic lines just sort of slipped out. I was never like this with Sierra. Not in the almost two years of being together.

“I think I threw up in my mouth a little, Beckett.”

“You love it, don’t pretend otherwise.” I enjoyed our banter. It kept me on my toes. Corin wasn’t like other girls with flirty eyes and fake giggles.

I had a feeling she didn’t even know how to be that way.

“There was another reason I called,” I began, waving Aaron away when I saw him approach. He grabbed his crotch and stuck out his tongue. My friends were really mature.

“Oh yeah? Well, don’t leave me in suspense here,” she said.

“Candace called to tell me Geoffery’s service is tomorrow evening. Do you want to go over together?”

There was silence on the other end. A very prolonged silence.

“Corin?”

“Uh…”

Crap. She had told me about her parents. I knew they had both died when Corin was younger, even if I still didn’t know the specifics.

Way to be sensitive, Beckett!

“If you can’t, that’s fine—”

“No, I’ll go. We can head over together?”

“Of course, Corin.” I liked saying her name. It sounded right on my tongue.

“All right. Yeah. I should go. Geoffery was a nice man. I should pay my respects.”

“Okay. Well, I’ll pick you up around five-thirty? The service starts at six.”

There was another silence. “Maybe we can do something afterward. Go see a movie or you can come over to my place and we can watch a movie,” I suggested. I didn’t want her to be upset.

I hated the thought of it.

“Are you euphemizing again? Because I liked the way that turned out last night,” she replied, her voice pitched low and husky.

And now I had a semi that I was going to have to deal with.

“We can do whatever you want to do, baby,” I said softly. The things this woman did to me…

“Sure,” she said finally, and I groaned.

“You just ‘sured’ me again, Corin. You really need to come up with a better response when I ask you out.”

“Sure, Beck,” she repeated, and I knew she was messing with me.

“Beckett, I’m going to come over there and dry hump your leg! Get off the fucking phone!” Aaron hollered.

“That was a serious threat. I think you should go.” Corin laughed.

“I wouldn’t put it past these guys. So I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” she agreed.

“Bye, Corin.”

“Bye, Beck.”

“Was that a girrlll?” Bryan sing-songed, grabbing my phone after I had hung up.

“Give me my phone, or I’ll knee you in the junk. You may be bigger than me, but that just means you’ll go down harder.” I tried to swipe my phone out of his hand but he held it out of reach.

“Corin? Who’s Corin?”

“She’s a woman, obviously.” Just great, I had opened the door on this one. My friends weren’t known for their maturity. I prepared myself for at least fifteen minutes of debased humor and high school antics.

“A woman you’re totally boning,” Bryan guffawed, and I rolled my eyes.

“I’m not boning anyone. Grow up, Bry.” Bryan was laughing so hard that he had doubled over. At least he was amusing himself.

I walked over to the soccer pitch with my friends, seeing the rest of the guys from our parks and rec team warming up. I hated the stab of jealousy I felt at seeing them running laps and kicking the ball around.

Watching instead of doing was going to suck. But I had told Aaron I’d come. I couldn’t become a shut-in. I’d lose my fucking mind.

I had taken my camera out during my lunch hour today, and it had been pretty great. I got some amazing shots of the skyline.

But photography was a solitary hobby. I still needed to interact with other people.

Bryan jogged over to a few of the others, bouncing a ball off his head when they threw it in his direction. Maybe circus seal could work for him if all of his other life goals didn’t pan out.

“So now that dumbass is gone, you wanna tell me who this Corin chick is? And more importantly, is she hot?” Aaron asked.

“Are you up for a heart-to-heart? I don’t want you hurting yourself,” I remarked blandly.

Aaron made a face. “I wasn’t aware we were heading into feelings territory. If that’s the case, let me back up a sec and rephrase. Is this Corin chick hot and if you’re not banging her, can I?”

“You don’t even know what she looks like,” I protested. Even though my friend was fooling around, the thought of him, or anyone, with Corin made me want to hit something.

Really fucking hard.

“You’re not the kind of guy to waste his time on fuglies. I trust your judgment.”

“Seriously, Aaron, shut up,” I bit out testily.

Aaron punched me in the shoulder. “Shit man, you’re getting pissy. She must be grade A ass. So you are boinking some new meat.”

I should have known that I’d never be able to talk about Corin with my friends in a way that didn’t involve the words ass, tits, or boinking.

“Forget it. I think they’re waiting on you.” I pointed toward the two teams congregated on the pitch.

“Yeah, I should get over there. God knows without you, we don’t have a fucking prayer of winning. You gonna hang around for beers afterward?” he asked.

I shrugged. “We’ll see how bored I get watching you lose.”

“Trash talk. I like it. Pop a squat and take it all in, my friend. See how badly we suck.”

I laughed and sat down on the bench off to the side of the soccer field. It was chilly today so I blew on my hands and tried to warm them up.

My friends started kicking the ball around in something that resembled soccer. Aaron was right. They sucked.

But man I missed it. My feet itched to run. I could feel the adrenaline coursing through my body.

I bounced my legs up and down and I became fidgety and restless.

Sitting and watching other people play sports was my version of hell.

I ran my hand along the bump under my skin, hating it. Wishing I could claw it out.

But after a while I was able to get into spectating. I yelled at my buddy Sam, who was the ref. I whooped when Aaron actually made a goal and cursed three ways to Sunday when Bryan missed a pass and all but handed the ball to the other team.

By the time they broke for half time to take a water break, I found I was actually enjoying myself.

Sure I was wistful and still felt way too sorry about my situation, but I didn’t feel depressed the way I had a month ago.

I walked over to my former team while they talked strategy and guzzled water.

“Not bad, guys,” I said as I approached them.

“Beck! Man, it’s good to see you!” Cameron said, patting me on the back.

“Sorry I haven’t been around,” I apologized.

“We get it. No worries. Just glad to see your ugly mug back on the pitch. Even if it is just to play cheerleader. Though you could try wearing a cute little skirt next time. Show off those legs,” Jimmy goaded, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Next time, man. Promise. I know how you like to check out the goods.” I made a kissy face in his direction and he grabbed his nuts.

A guy named Justin kicked a ball at my feet. “Come on, Beck. For old time’s sake.”

Aaron glared at Justin and kicked the ball across the pitch with force. “You know he can’t, ass wipe. You don’t need to rub his fucking nose in it.”

I was feeling pretty good. Better than good. Better than I had in a long time. What would it hurt?

I jogged across the grass and dribbled the ball back to my former teammates. “I’ll take you on, fucker.” Justin gave me an uneasy grin and Aaron frowned.

“Dude, that’s not the smartest thing I’ve ever heard you say. It’s definitely up there with just one more tequila shot from between the stripper’s tits.”

“I’m fine, man. Stop being a grandma. I haven’t done anything in months. A quick kick around the pitch won’t kill me.”

At least I hoped not.

Aaron didn’t look convinced but Bryan let out a whoop and thumped me on the back. “All right! Let’s go!”

He took the ball from between my feet and sped off toward the goal. I ran after him. I didn’t go all out the way I would have before, but I was still pushing myself more than I had in a long time.

Soon my face was flushed and my heart was beating in overtime. I caught up with Bryan before he reached the goal and effortlessly took the ball, heading toward the opposite side of the pitch.

Damn, it felt good too. The burn in my calves. The air freezing my face.

I was rusty. I fumbled the ball a few times and Bryan swooped in and took it from me effortlessly.

After a few minutes, when I didn’t keel over, the others joined in and soon we were all playing together the way we used to.

Aaron passed me the ball and I took off running.

And this time I punched it. I ran hard. I ran fast. I started to wheeze and black spots swam in front of my eyes.

I was ridiculously out of shape.

A sharp pain in my chest brought me up short. It wasn’t like last time. It didn’t bring me to my knees and knock the air from my lungs. But it hurt and served as a reminder that I lived my life in limitations now.

I stopped running and braced myself on my knees, getting my breathing back under control. I could hear the wheeze in my chest and knew I had overdone it.

“You okay, Beck?” Aaron asked, looking worried.

I held my hand up, telling him to give me a minute. The rest of the guys came over, not crowding, but watching me closely.

“I know I’m good looking, but stop staring at me,” I rasped, rubbing my chest.

The shadow of pain was still there but finally my heartbeat slowed and I was able to get a deep breath into my lungs.

I had lasted a whole five minutes before my body shut down on me.

The disappointment and regret were almost debilitating.

“I’m fine, seriously,” I told my friends sharply when they wouldn’t stop staring at me.

“Good, because as much as I love ya, man, I was not putting my mouth on yours to give you CPR,” Aaron stated, gagging.

I tried to smile but it wasn’t much of one.

“I think I’ll go return to my trusty bench,” I said, feeling like an idiot.

The last few minutes had put the nail in the old Beckett Kingsley’s coffin. It was official. I would never be him again.

I sat down heavily, struggling not to let depression take over.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out and read the text that came in from Corin.

So can I send you dick pics now that we’re dating?

I chuckled out loud. How did she know I needed to laugh right now? How did she know I needed to remember my life wasn’t over just because I couldn’t do the things I used to?

I tapped out a response.

If you’re sending me dick pics, then we need to have a very serious conversation.

The guys were yelling on the pitch and I looked up to see Bryan run into the goal, tearing a hole straight through the netting. I shook my head. What a dumbass.

My phone chimed in my hand and I looked down at a picture of a nerdy-looking guy wearing a nametag that read, you guessed it—Dick. It was followed by another text.

Get your mind out of the gutter, Beck.

And just like that I wasn’t thinking about my body that had failed me. I wasn’t thinking about how I couldn’t play soccer or go jogging.

I was laughing my ass off because of a girl who made me forget about all the bad stuff.

She made living easy.

–

“You’re late,” Zoe said, letting me into my parents’ house.

“Nice to see you too,” I replied blandly.

“Mom’s complaining that the sauce is ruined. Ruined, I tell you!” Zoe shook her fist in the air.

I ruffled Zoe’s hair because I knew she hated it. “She can’t stay mad at me. I’m the kid that almost died.” I batted my eyelashes.

Zoe dug her finger into my chest. “You can’t use the whole cardiac-arrest thing forever, Beck.”

“Oh yes I can.” I grinned and she rolled her eyes.

I walked into the kitchen to find my mom fussing over a saucepan, clicking her tongue.

“It smells great, Mom,” I said, handing her a bottle of her favorite Chardonnay. Even if I couldn’t drink it, I knew it would go a long way to appeasing my mother for my being late.

I dropped a kiss on her cheek and slung an arm around her shoulders. “Sorry I’m late.”

“We were supposed to eat fifteen minutes ago. The cream sauce broke and I’m having to reheat it and hope it doesn’t ruin everything.” My mother was a perfectionist. It could be a little overbearing at times but she always meant well.

“I’m sure it will be wonderful. Have you ever prepared a bad meal, Mom? I don’t think so.”

“Oh hush you and pour me a glass of wine.” She shooed me away, trying not to smile. I had always been able to charm my mother. Even growing up and going through my bratty phases, I only needed to hug her and give her my patented Beckett Kingsley smile, and I got out of trouble each and every time. It drove Zoe nuts.

I went to the cabinet and got out a wine glass, filling it up and handing it to her. “I was at the park with the guys watching their game. Then I had to run by the office to grab some stuff that I need to work on tonight.”

“You work too hard, Beck. You should take it easy. If you need to take more time off, I’m sure your boss would understand.”

If my mother had her way, I’d move back home so she could tuck me into bed every night.

“Yeah, it doesn’t work like that, Mom. Besides I can’t sit around the house watching TV all day. I’d lose my mind.”

Mom took a long gulp of her wine, her cheeks already flushed. She was a one-glass drunk. It didn’t take her much to get tipsy.

“I just worry you’re doing too much too soon. It’s only been a little over four months since your heart attack—”

“Yeah, I know, Mom,” I interrupted her. I didn’t want to talk about my heart. And definitely not with my mother. She became too emotional about it. I couldn’t handle the tears tonight.

“Beck, I didn’t know you were here,” my dad said, coming into the room. He tried to taste the cream sauce simmering on the stove but Mom pushed him away.

“It’ll be ready in ten minutes. You’ll just have to wait,” Mom scolded him. When her back was turned, I saw him sneak a cookie from the pantry.

“So how are things at work? You say they’re crazy. Why is that?” Mom asked. Dad discreetly wiped his mouth with his hand and I gave him a thumbs-up to let him know he was in the clear.

“Things busy over there, then?” Dad asked, joining in the conversation. Dad was used to corporate life, having worked as a VP of marketing in the city for almost thirty years before retiring last year.

“That’s an understatement. The company is trying to break into the European market so that means longer hours for us schleps,” I said tiredly.

“Sounds boring,” Zoe piped up, grabbing a soda from the fridge and popping it open.

“Your brother has a good job. I hope you are so lucky when you graduate from college,” Mom said primly.

“Beck seems just thrilled to have such a good job. Aren’t you, bro?” My troublemaker sister raised her eyebrows, putting me on the spot.

“It is what it is, I guess.”

“It’s money in your pocket, son. It pays your bills and keeps a roof over your head,” my dad lectured.

I glared at Zoe for setting him off. He’d be on a tangent about being responsible for hours if we left him to it.

“I don’t know. I was thinking about getting back into photography,” I said offhandedly.

“Photography? I didn’t know you still did that,” Mom said, still stirring her sauce.

“I don’t. Not really. But I really enjoyed it before sports took over my life. I took some pictures the other day. It was fun. It was just something I was thinking about.”

My dad nodded. “Sounds like a worthwhile hobby. It’s important to have things that keep you busy.”

“Maybe I could make some money as a freelance photographer. I know the newspaper is always advertising for freelance positions.”

“Now that sounds awesome,” Zoe enthused.

“Well, you have other things to consider now. Like health insurance. Freelance work doesn’t provide you the coverage you need for your condition, Beckett,” Dad said. He used my full name. That meant he wanted me to listen and do as I was told.

“It’s just an idea, Dad. I’m not saying that I’m quitting my job or anything. But I think I need to do something more rewarding than slinging software.”

“I think it’s a kick-ass idea,” Zoe said.

“Language, Zoe,” Mom reprimanded. “And Beck, I think you should do something that makes you happy. I used to love your photographs. I remember that one you took of the Ash Street bridge. Didn’t you enter that in a contest?”

“The young photographers’ showcase,” I told her.

“That’s right! I remember now! That was your freshman year. You were so proud.”

“I placed second out of over a hundred entries. It was a pretty big deal at the time.”

“How did I not know any of this?” Zoe asked indignantly.

“You were too busy taking the heads off your Barbie dolls.” I ruffled her hair again.

She thwacked my arm and I winced. My sister had a hell of an arm.

“So what brought on this brain fart?” Zoe prodded. She took the pile of plates and handed them to me and the two of us went into the dining room to set the table.

“Well, I was talking about it with someone and it got me thinking—”

“Someone? What someone got you thinking about an old hobby that your favorite sister didn’t know about?”

I groaned, “God, Zoe, you pick up on the most insignificant details.”

She grinned. “Call it a gift. Now spill. Who’s the someone?”

“Her name’s Corin, all right. Now fucking drop it,” I warned.

“Ohh, it’s a girl someone!” she squealed.

“I’ve never met a dude named Corin,” I pointed out.

“Is she a friend? How do you know her? Why were you talking about photography? How did she even know about it?”

I finished laying out the silverware and moved the floral centerpiece from the table. “Are you going to keep asking me questions or can I answer a few?”

“Please, answer.”

“What are you answering?” Mom asked, coming in with a dish of pasta. My dad followed her with a plate of fresh bread and a bowl of broccoli.

“Beck’s been hanging out with a girl named Corin.”

“Oh really? Who’s she?” my dad asked, setting the dishes in the center of the table and taking his seat.

The rest of us followed suit and started serving ourselves.

“She’s just someone I know. We’ve gone out a couple of times,” I said nonchalantly. I had planned to tell my parents about Corin. I wanted them to know about her. I just didn’t want Zoe grilling me with a thousand intrusive questions.

“That seems pretty soon after breaking up with Sierra, don’t you think?” my mother asked.

“Oh, is she a rebound?” Zoe jumped in.

“No, she is definitely not a rebound. Things had been over with Sierra for a long time.”

“That’s no reason to dive into something with someone new, Beck. You should be concentrating on you and your health. Not starting a relationship,” Mom scolded gently, and I sighed.

“I’m not diving into anything. She was a friend. Now we’re sort of dating—”

“How do you sort of date? Is that like being sort of pregnant?” Zoe asked, shoving a forkful of pasta into her mouth.

“Is it serious?” Mom pried, and I regretted letting Zoe bring up the subject at all.

“Yeah, I guess it is,” I admitted.

It was definitely serious. In my heart it couldn’t be more serious. But I didn’t want to share that with my nosy family.

“How long have you been dating?” Mom asked, putting her inquisitor hat on. No one could dig out information like my mother. She was relentless.

“Not long. A week or so,” I mumbled, eating quickly, hoping that if I kept my mouth full, I wouldn’t have to answer their questions.

“A little over a week and you’re already serious about her? Damn, she must have a golden hooha!” Zoe exclaimed.

“Zoe, seriously, stop talking like you’re with your friends. That’s not the sort of thing you should say in front of your parents,” Mom said tiredly.

Zoe ignored her completely. “Well, if you’re so into this chick, that means we have to meet her, of course. I have to make sure she’s not another Sierra. Because I won’t let you go down that road of crazy again,” she announced, waving her fork in the air.

“She’s nothing like Sierra, no worries there.” I was getting a headache.

“Your sister’s right though, you should bring her over for dinner. We’d like to meet her. What did you say her name was again?” Dad asked.

“Corin. Corin Thompson.”

“And what does Corin do?” Mom sniffed. She could be very judgmental. She had never warmed to Sierra, particularly after my ex’s less-than-supportive behavior after my cardiac arrest. And she had been less than pleased with Sierra’s lack of career aspirations.

“She runs her own business. She owns Razzle Dazzle, the pottery studio downtown.”

“Oh. Well, that’s nice,” Mom said, looking grudgingly impressed.

“Bring her over next week, Beck. I’ll come home from school. Play the protective sister bit. I’ll get the skinny on your new woman.”

“You don’t need to be protective where Corin’s concerned. She’s…well…she’s sort of amazing.”

Zoe blinked a few times, her fork halfway to her mouth. “Damn, you’ve got it bad. I have to meet her.”

I let out a long, tortured breath, knowing there was no point in making an excuse. They’d wear me down eventually.

“Fine. We’ll come next Wednesday after work. Nothing special. Corin’s a meat and potatoes kind of girl. You don’t need to go all out. She’ll be happy with whatever you make,” I told my mom.

“What about a pot roast. Will she eat that?” Mom asked.

“Yeah. A pot roast would be great, Mom.”

Mom and her pot roasts…

Dad had lost interest in the conversation and was reading the news on his phone. Zoe was texting.

Maybe I should have asked Corin before I had agreed to a meet and greet with the family.

But it shouldn’t be that big of a deal.

Right?