Dirty Ginger by Stacey Kennedy

13

One week had ticked by slowly, and Amelia had felt each second of those days, knowing that Beckett was facing his father’s death alone. She’d texted and called him daily, but he never answered her calls and only texted a few words back to let her know that he was doing all right, but busy with all the paperwork and details for his father’s estate and funeral. Nothing more. Nothing less. Her head and heart were an equal mess. She and Luka were in a good place, but what she felt with Beckett now was all too familiar. He’d shut her out after his mother and grandfather passed away, and they were right back to that again. Part of her understood. He kept his father separate so it didn’t affect his life, of course she got that. But there was a deep part of her heart that knew not being involved wasn’t going to get them anywhere. Especially since it felt like Beckett wasn’t facing his trauma, he was once again avoiding it. Her heart balked, knowing what happened the last time he did that. He turned away from her, and she couldn’t even fathom that happening again. Only she had no idea how to reach him.

Over the last week, her brewery had never been cleaner. All she’d done was clean between creating the final three beer samples. She did her best to keep her mind and heart busy. But it didn’t help. Nothing helped. And after eating breakfast this morning, and feeling very much alone, lost in her thoughts and ready to crawl out of her skin, she called in reinforcements.

“Margaritas?” Amelia asked, glancing over her shoulder to her sisters who were talking about Mason’s latest art project at school while sitting around the kitchen table.

“Sure, I’ll make them,” Maisie said, jumping up from her seat.

“I’m right here,” Amelia said, waving Maisie off. “Sit down. I’ll make them.”

Maisie’s lips parted, but Clara interjected, “Actually, it’s probably best if I don’t have one.” She hesitated before the brightest smile rose to her face. “I found out yesterday that I’m pregnant.”

“Oh my God,” Maisie exclaimed, her hands covering her mouth.

Bursting with happiness, Amelia rushed to Clara’s side and threw her arms around her older sister. “Congratulations, Clara. This is so exciting. I had no idea you were trying.”

Clara returned the hug, squeezing tight. Her voice filled with wonder. “We weren’t actively trying, but I’ve been off the pill for a while now. I honestly had no idea. I spotted a little with my period this month so didn’t think anything was up, but the other day, I don’t know, I just had a feeling and got a test.” When Amelia leaned away, she found tears in Clara’s eyes. “Both Sullivan and I are really happy.”

“Does Mason know he’s going to become a brother?” Amelia asked.

Clara gave a quick nod. “Since I knew I was coming here and planned on telling you both, I told him before he went to school. I knew once he got there, word would spread quickly.”

Amelia laughed. “I’m sure it will. He’ll be such a proud big brother.”

Clara agreed with another nod, glancing at Maisie, who still gaped at Clara. “I’m starting to think you’re not happy about this news. Why aren’t you saying anything?”

Tears filled Maisie’s eyes, her chin quivering. “I am happy. It’s just… well, I guess now is the right time to tell you that I’m pregnant too.”

Clara gasped. “For real?”

Maisie nodded, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Only just pregnant. I took the test last week before we last had drinks together. The line on the test was faint, but yesterday, the doctor confirmed we’re expecting.”

Clara’s elated expression shifted, her brows drawing together. “But you were drinking that day last week.”

“No, I wasn’t,” Maisie said, with a sheepish smile. “That’s why I jumped up to make these drinks too. I didn’t put any alcohol in mine.”

“Smart,” Clara said, opening her arms wide. Maisie stepped into them, and they hugged tight. “Pregnant together,” Clara continued, awe in her voice. “How much fun will this be?”

“So fun,” Maisie agreed.

Amelia absorbed the news, the happiness on her sisters’ faces. A sudden wall of emotion hit Amelia, nearly knocking her over, tears welling in her eyes, her sisters blurry in front of her. Her cheeks burned as the room began to spin. She grabbed the back of the chair, holding tight, and at the small squeak that escaped her, both of her sisters looked at her and immediately rushed to her side.

“Shit,” Maisie snapped, grabbing Amelia’s arms. “We shouldn’t have said anything.”

Eyebrows gathering, Clara’s mouth downturned. “Sorry, that was totally insensitive.”

“No, it’s not insensitive at all,” Amelia said, her breath catching. “It’s really great news, and I’m so happy for the both of you. These aren’t sad, pitiful oh-poor-me, tears.”

“What tears are they, then?” Maisie asked, pulling Amelia toward the chair.

Amelia took seat, swiping at the tears on her face. “It’s just that, I’m taking in all this good news and thinking how incredible it is that with all the loss we’ve had in our lives, that now, all this good is happening. How happy our parents would be to see you two so happy. How happy Pops and Grandma would be.”

“You’re right, they would be happy,” Clara said, dragging the other chair across the hardwood floor to sit next to Amelia. “It feels like there is a but in there.”

Amelia’s chest squeezed tight as she looked between her sisters, and realized a hard truth. One she’d been running from for a long time. All she wanted was to have that kind of happiness with Beckett. To be his wife. To have his children. And to find that everlasting happiness that wasn’t surrounded by so much death and misery. Her heart only and always wanted him. But all of those dreams were slipping away from her fast, and she felt like she was scrambling to hold onto them. “I just can’t help but wonder when is Beckett’s time to be as happy?” Her throat tightened with the emotion squeezing her. “When does Beckett get these happy moments like Hayes and Sullivan have found? When does he get to be showered with all the goodness life has to offer? When does he get to stop surviving, but truly living? It just makes me so damn sad for him.”

Clara’s eyes saddened. “He’s definitely had a hard time.”

“He has,” Amelia said. “And I have no idea how to help him. Even after all this time, I still don’t know how to reach into his heart and make everything better. And once again, he’s shutting me out. It just feels like we’re back to square one. I thought we’d grown so much since then.”

Maisie said, “You should read Pops’ letter.”

“Pops’ letter?” Amelia asked, leaning against the counter.

“Yeah,” Maisie said with a nod. “The letter that Pops left you in his estate, read that.”

Gosh, Amelia had forgotten all about the letter that had been in his Last Will and Testament. Each letter was in a sealed envelope with their names handwritten by Pops, and in each was a quote. One last piece of advice.

Amelia looked to Clara, and she shrugged. “It actually did help me a lot.”

“Well, right now, I’ll give anything a shot.” Amelia moved into the dining room, and in the hutch’s drawer, she took out her letter. When she returned to her sisters, she opened the envelope and read the note.

“So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.” -F. Scott Fitzgerald

And with those few words, it was like Pops was whispering in her ear. She saw the quote differently now than when she’d read the letter after Pops passed.

Maisie asked, “So, by your face right now, this means something to you?”

Amelia’s hands shook and she set the paper down on the counter. She knew exactly why Pops left this quote for her, and her heart warmed. “It’s means that Beckett and I have been rowing boats against a rough tide, but no matter where we go, we are always brought back to where we started. Our past. We can’t outrun it.” Amelia swallowed back the remainder of emotion tightening her throat. She drew in a big, deep breath, sending the rest of the rawness in her chest away, thinking only of Pops now and of his wonderful love. So many conversations, hard and easy, they shared around this table. So many truths were told, no matter how hard they were to admit. So many tears shed and so many smiles had. Her heart opened in ways it never had before, under Pops’ love and last final piece of advice. “But we can turn the boat around and go in another direction, a better tide, a smoother one.” Amelia’s heart swelled, her way forward so clear now. “From the moment Beckett punched Luka in the face, he’s been fighting for my love and protecting my heart.”

Clara cocked her head. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking that maybe it’s about time I do the same.”

* * *

Beckett’s exhaustionfelt soul deep, eating away at dreams and hopes. He felt the same thing after his mother and grandfather passed, and again when depression stole his father away. While Nash had told him to take time off work, Beckett needed to get his mind off the stabbing pain in the center of his chest. Especially considering this afternoon, while looking through his bank records, he noticed that Amelia had cashed his check. Nothing felt right. He seemed lost without her at his side, and yet, he didn’t want her anywhere near him. Until he could sort out why the loss of his father had him spinning out of control, he needed to stay away. He knew he was pushing her away again, and he hated himself for it. But more than that, he knew he needed to protect her. He would figure out his emotions and then he’d go back to her. He just needed a little more time. He settled the bridle on Autumn’s head and stroked her neck. “Today’s the day, girl. I need this ride as much as you do. It’s time to take a leap of faith.”

She rubbed her head into his shoulder, and he hoped that was a good sign.

Beckett left the fence where he’d been tacking her up and brought Autumn into the middle of the ring. She stood patiently, calmly, as he tightened the cinch. Before he slipped his foot in the stirrup, he exhaled slowly, letting go of the tension simmering through him. Only when his felt his muscles loosen did he swing his leg over the saddle and take up the reins, and then he waited for the explosion. For the second she decided he wasn’t worthy to remain on her back, but as the seconds ticked on, he never felt her tense up or take a wrong step. He gave a click of his tongue, the same click he’d used when he’d been moving her out on the ground. She walked forward with ease, her gait steady and unhurried, her head low, jaw relaxed. Another click from his mouth, and she stepped up into the trot, and not long after that fell into a lope. Beckett didn’t mess with her, didn’t fuss with her mouth, he let her enjoy the ride. When he felt comfortable that she wasn’t going to hurt him or herself, he called, “Whoa.” She slowed back to a walk, and he steered her to the gate and bent over to unlock it. Once through, he directed her past the house to the field where the broodmares had recently been living. The land was flat, and the grass was short.

Autumn’s walk became more animated with each step, obviously feeling Beckett’s excitement. By the time they headed through the gate, Autumn was bouncing in a trot, a feeling akin to being in the gate before the calf was sent out and he’d burst out with his rope ready. He missed that feeling, that adrenaline. “All right, Autumn, let’s see what you’ve got little lady.” He released the tension on the reins and Autumn shot forward, like she’d done this a thousand times before, galloping toward the mid-day sun, stealing Beckett’s heartache as she went.

By the time they returned to the farm, Autumn’s walk was quiet and slow, and Beckett felt the smile rise on his face, enjoying the joy she’d brought him. He quickly untacked her and then hosed her off before letting her loose in her paddock again.

“She’s fast as hell.”

Beckett glanced over his shoulder at Nash. “Shockingly fast.”

Nash studied Beckett’s face before he crossed his arms. “She looked good. Great job with her.”

“She needs more training,” Beckett said. “But she’s got heart, and a lot of it.”

Nash agreed with a nod, then gestured to Beckett’s truck. “Since I already told you not to come in today, I’ll say it again. Go home, Beckett. Now’s the time to be with friends, and that’s not a request.”

Beckett watched Nash return to his house, and knew Nash meant well. Everyone meant well, but being home was the last place Beckett wanted to be. This morning, he poured all the booze he had in his house down the sink and threw out the bottles, not trusting himself not to drown his sadness in the bottle, just like his father. He felt unsettled, restless, and wasn’t sure how to gain his footing again.

Autumn gave him a final look before she settled in front of her hay, and he got into his truck and hit the road. They had a way to go before he’d end their training, but today went better than he could have anticipated.

The drive home was quiet, he left the radio off. His window was rolled down, and the warm breeze brushed scents of wildflowers and summer days against his nose. When he arrived home, the lightness in his chest from the ride with Autumn sank as he found Hayes and Sullivan sitting on his porch. He’d been dodging their calls, dodging life, and he knew it.

Beckett parked his truck and got out a second later. “I thought you were heading back to Boston?” he asked by way of greeting, approaching his house.

Sitting on the porch in the old worn wood chair, Sullivan shook his head. “Coach gave me the go-ahead to stay until after the funeral.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” Beckett said, taking the seat next to Sullivan.

Sullivan snorted. “Hate to break it to you, brother, but you’re not going to that funeral alone.”

Beckett knew he should thank him, but he simply looked toward the trees, the empty fields, the empty barn, where once there was so much life. “The funeral is tomorrow.”

“You arranged all that, then?” Hayes asked.

Beckett nodded. “It’s simple. It’ll be at the cemetery. Nine o’clock.”

“We’ll all be there,” Sullivan said.

Amelia will be there; he didn’t say it, but he implied. Beckett knew nothing he could say would stop that, so he gave a small nod.

Silence settled in, but it wasn’t comfortable. Beckett knew what was coming long before Hayes said, “She’s hurting as much as you are right now.”

“I know she’s hurting,” Beckett replied. “You don’t need to tell me that.”

Hayes leaned against the railing, arms crossed, voice firm. “If you know, then why you aren’t doing something about it?”

Beckett sank his head back against house, his bones aching with the tiredness seeping through him. “It will always touch her.”

“What will?” Hayes asked.

“The pain. The goddamn curse on my head. The misery that’s following me.”

“Beckett,” Hayes said, slowly. “Bad shit happens. You know that, I know that.” Yeah, Hayes did know that well—his first wife, who had been Maisie’s best friend, had been murdered. Hayes understood deep loss. “But good things can come from the bad experiences too.”

“When?” Beckett asked, the same question he’d been asking for his whole damn life. “When do the good things come, Hayes?” It occurred to him suddenly what was grating on him. Maybe somewhere in his messed-up head he thought his father would come around and see the light, but now that would never happen. All there was in his past was pain. “It doesn’t matter what happens, this shit comes back. Time and time again.” He ran his hands over his face, feeling his muscles quivering. “I kept thinking that all this time all I needed was to get her back. To be better for her. To do better. But I can’t outrun the truth that when I heard my father died, all I felt was weak and broken.”

Sullivan’s chair creaked when he leaned forward to cup Beckett’s shoulder. “That’s expected. Fuck man, anyone would feel like that.”

“I can’t even look her in the eye right now,” Beckett said. “I made a promise I wouldn’t hurt her that way again, I won’t break that promise. I just need to get past this.”

“You’re going to lose her before you get past this, Beckett,” Hayes shot back. “Do you fucking hear yourself? You finally have her back. Keep her. You need to let her in.”

Beckett hated how pathetic he sounded when he said, “I can’t risk fucking this up again. I need to get my head on straight, and it’s all the fucking way crooked right now. I can’t let her see me like this again.”

One second he was sitting in his seat, the next, Hayes had him up against the wall, his fists tight in his shirt. “Wake the fuck up, Beckett,” Hayes roared, spittle forming in the crease of his mouth. “I refuse to let your fucking father destroy you. That’s the last deep cut he’s leaving, and I won’t stand by and watch you walk away from your chance of being happy.”

“Let me go,” Beckett said, slowly, carefully, the back of his head throbbing from hitting the wall.

Hayes’ glare only intensified. “Your grandfather would be so fucking ashamed of you right now. So furious that you’re letting the disease your father spread across your life affect you like it is now.”

Sullivan sighed. “Guys, sit down. Both of you.”

Hayes ignored him, his neck corded. “Maisie’s pregnant, and we’ve just learned today Clara is pregnant too. How do you think that made Amelia feel when she learned the news?”

Needing space, feeling the air thicken around him, Beckett shoved Hayes away and moved to the railing on the porch, gripping the wood tight beneath his hands. “I know exactly how it made her feel. Like her chance of having children was slipping away from her. Because I’m pushing her away. Again. I fucking know.”

To calm down, he let out a long slow breath, nearly congratulating them, but Sullivan cupped his shoulder and said, “It’s time for you and Amelia to get married, have some kids, live a goddamn happy life.”

“It’s not that simple,” Beckett said.

Hayes growled from behind him. “Why is it not that simple?”

“Because I’m not you,” Beckett snapped in return. To Sullivan, he said, “Or you. I’m not fucking good at this. I’ve never been good at this. I don’t know how to do happy. I thought if something bad ever happened again, I would know exactly how to handle it. But I don’t. Happiness never fucking lasts.”

Hayes jabbed a finger at him. “Guess what, Amelia doesn’t want me or Sullivan, she wants you. Not the perfect you. Not the man holding back to take every step just right. She wants the man she fell in love with. All the good bits and the broken and the weak.”

Sullivan gave a slow nod. “That’s the good stuff, man. When they see all of you but want you anyway.”

Beckett glanced away, feeling each word, albeit each forceful word from Hayes, and the gentler ones from Sullivan. These men were his brothers, and his head suddenly began to clear as each word cemented. He glanced over his shoulder at Sullivan and then to Hayes. “Why would she want a part of this?” He tapped the side of his head.

Hayes expression softened, as he stepped into cup Beckett’s shoulder. “She’s wanted you from the day she met you. I saw back then, and I see it now.”

Beckett felt something break inside him, but it didn’t cripple him, it opened a doorway to another way forward. “I’m going to lose her?”

Hayes gave a firm nod. “You’re going to lose her if you keep her out of your life again, so what are you going to do about that?”

Beckett glanced out at the farm again, the land of his grandfather. “I best figure that out before she’s gone forever.”