My insides squeezed tight. Beckett saw it and hurriedly rushed through the rest. “Anyway, it looks like Delilah is in the clear. She wasn’t lying or covering for Carter. It was just that he and Chelsea were tag teaming, so they’d each have alibis for some of the events, making it nearly impossible to pin the whole thing on either one of them.”
“So, the sheriff doesn’t need me…for anything else?”
“They have your initial statement, but you’ll likely need to talk to the DA about how she killed Carter. I told Cleaver they’d have to wait until at least tomorrow. We need a break. We’ve earned it. You’ve earned it. You’ve spent your life caring for others, my Maisey-girl. For one damn day, let someone else—letme—care for you.”
I wasn’t exactly sure why, but it was those final words that caused the tears to finally break and pour down my cheeks. Maybe it was simply the entire emotional roller coaster finally screeching to a halt and allowing my mind and heart to catch up.
Beckett’s expression softened, and he wiped my cheeks tenderly. “Have I told you how much I hate it when you cry?”
“It makes me look even more ghastly, but I can’t stop.”
“You’d know I was lying if I said you looked perfect,” he said, runninghis thumb along my jawline. “But even exhausted and hurt and sick, my Maisey-girl is still the most beautiful soul in the room.”
I wasn’t sure how that was possible when I knew I looked a mess. I hadn’t dried my hair last night or used any of the products I usually did to fluff it up, which meant it was clinging to me like a sheet of plastic wrap, only dark and stringy. And I was sure my face was pale and shadowed, eyes red-rimmed from tears and whatever virus had taken hold of me. I was probably the most unattractive I’d been in a really long time, especially in front of another human.
“As I’m the only soul besides yours in the room, it doesn’t take much to be the prettiest,” I tossed back.
Beckett chuckled, and the smile that accompanied it hit me square in the chest again. “You have a gift for that.” I raised a brow, and he continued, “For qualifying compliments. Making them seem less.”
He was right. It was a bad habit I hadn’t broken, even with therapy and years of trying. But knowing Beckett thought I was beautiful, knowing he still wanted me regardless of how I looked or how screwed up my life was, helped push those destructive thoughts to the background. Not in a bad way that meant they’d bite me in the butt someday, but in a way that said they were truly healed. Not just scabs that would crack open, but scars that proved I’d survived.
“You’re right. Say it again,” I said softly.
His brows lifted. “You’re the most beautiful woman I know. Not just in this room, but in the entire world. You’re the only one who turns my head, Maisey. The only one who makes me feel like I’ve just climbed a mountain in full turnout gear and as if I could soar through the sky at the same time.”
“Thank you,” I said, heart thudding, body going loose and heated. “For seeing me as I want to be seen.”
“That’s closer.” He leaned in and kissed my forehead. “I’ll be right back. Don’t move, and drink your tea.”
He looked at his dog, who had moved from Beckett’s side to curl up at my feet next to Dorothy. “Make sure she doesn’t move, Traitor Vader.” The dog lifted his head and woofed. “Good boy.”
When he left the room, I slid my feet out of the blankets, and the dog sat up and whined.
“A woman’s gotta pee, Vader. I’ll be right back. I promise.”
When I stood, Vader barked his disapproval.
“Maisey!” Beckett hollered a warning from the other room.
“Bathroom!” I yelled back, grimacing at the pain that slanted up my throat before patting the dog’s head and whispering, “Tattletale. See if I buy you any more of those jerky strips you love.”
Vader butted my hand with his head as if in apology and followed me to the bathroom and back, while the kitten watched us with lazy eyes. Just the short little jaunt to the restroom wore me out, so I did exactly what Beckett and his dog wanted and lay back down.
Vader joined me again, doing three complete circles before lying down with his chin on his paws, watching me carefully, as if he was ready to bark again if I moved.
“You really are a traitor,” I teased.
The kitten, obviously tired of rest, crawled up his back, played with his thumping tail, and then went scampering off to find some mischief. Vader looked at me, then in the direction the cat had gone, and back to me.
“Go play, I’ll be good,” I promised. But he didn’t budge.
I grabbed my phone, called the hospital, and talked briefly to Dad, who said exactly the same thing as Beckett. Stay home and rest. After hanging up with him, I texted Fallon. She replied she’d heard from Beckett and to not worry about anything but healing.
I was just putting the phone back when Beckett returned with a tray piled with food and drinks and books.
“Whatchya got there?” I asked.
“Just your standard bed picnic requirements.”