“Do you believe passion and love are gifts and not burdens?”
“Beck, what’s your point?”
“Just answer me.”
“I do. Love is a beautiful, precious gift. But I wasted it with Liza. I pushed her away because of what happened before she entered my life. If I could change any one thing in my past, it wouldn’t be meeting your mother, because she gave me you, but I would change what I said to Liza that day. Instead of pushing her away, I’d tell her she would always have a home here, no matter how long she was gone or how far she needed to travel. When her feet were tired and her back weary, when she’d done all the things she needed to accomplish, she could come home, and we’d be waiting with open arms.”
The woman behind him brushed at her eyes and then straightened her back. “Well, I’ve got some pretty tired feet and could sure use a pair of open arms.”
Dad jumped out of the booth as if a rattlesnake had bitten him.
His expression was stunned as he took in Liza’s smile that had softened around the edges with age but hadn’t really changed at all.
“Liza…” his voice died.
“Well, Cowboy, you going to open those arms or not?”
He didn’t hesitate. He just opened wide, and she stepped right into them.
My throat nearly closed up at the beauty of it. When I looked down at Maisey, she was brushing at tears. I leaned in and kissed her cheek, whispering, “You know how I feel about your crying, my Maisey-girl. You’re gutting me.”
“I’ll make it up to you.”
“You have a lot of making up to do.”
She huffed out a laugh.
Dad finally let go of Liza, and when he did, she turned and opened her arms to me. I stood and hugged her. And damn if tears didn’t fill my eyes. She squeezed me tight and let me go. Then she patted my face. “You’ve grown up just as I thought you would, Beckett. Strong and handsome, and right next to your Maisey-girl.”
Maisey slid out of the booth. “Hey, Liza.”
The women hugged, and my dad and I exchanged a glance over their heads. It had taken us a long time to finally get to this point—to accepting and holding love in our lives. But we had it, and I knew neither of us was ever going to let it go.
We’d fight to keep it. Fight with every breath to stop those knots from ever unraveling again.
? ? ?
That night, after I’d gotten payback for the sinful sweater and the lace bra, for the taunts and teases and tears, by making my Maisey-girl beg multiple times, I lay with her sweet body on top of mine and thought what a lucky bastard I was.
Lucky she hadn’t found some other dickhead to marry before I’d pulled my head out.
Lucky she understood the wounds that had made me so she could call me out on my shit when the smoke occasionally tried to return and choke me.
Lucky to have had an angel reach out to grab my hand.
She moved, and I growled. “I’m not sure I’m done with you yet.”
She laughed. “Fine, you open the drawer.”
“What?” I frowned.
“Open the drawer, Beckett,” she said, nodding to the bedside table.
“Is that where you’re keeping the new book? I’m not sure anything in it will be better than what we just did.” But I still opened it because I wouldalways do what she asked for the rest of our lives.
I pulled out a black bag. It was pretty hefty, holding something solid.
I raised a brow again. “You know how I feel about toys, darlin’. We don’t need them. We got each other, and we work just fine on our own.”