8. Beck

8

BECK

" D ammit, why isn't she picking up?" I grumble to myself. I've called Bea three times since I left this morning, and she hasn't answered a single one. She also hasn't responded to any of my texts.

I run a hand through my short hair, then rub my temples, trying to think of anything I said or did to upset her. I thought I left her in a good mood this morning after basically telling her my plan of fixing the house and moving in with her and putting a ring on her finger as fast as possible. She seemed excited, but maybe that was too much? I feel like I've known her my whole life, but I understand she's young and hasn't had a lot of love in her life.

"Yo, boss, you good?" one of my employees asks.

"Yeah, just… Yeah, I'm good," I finally land on.

"Need me to take over?" Timmy asks, nodding toward the rotating saw and piece of wood I have yet to do anything with.

I'm about to say no, but realize if I'm distracted and worried about Bea, I might end up in a workplace accident that could hurt me and my employees. "It's probably best for everyone's safety if you do," I answer cryptically.

Timmy raises an eyebrow, but he knows better than to ask any questions. I never leave the job early or miss a day. I guess there's a first time for everything. For Bea? Anything is worth knowing where she is and that she's safe.

I hop in my truck and head toward the Leavenworth estate. It takes me less than two minutes to get there, but it's still not fast enough. Something is wrong. I feel it in my gut. Ten years in the military taught me to follow that instinct.

When I pull up to the house, I leap out of my truck and race to the front door. "Bea?" I shout, knocking on the door. "Sweetheart, if you're inside, please open up."

Nothing.

I knock again, more insistent this time. "Did I upset you? Did I say something or not say something or say too much? We can talk about it. We can work through anything."

Still nothing. I press my ear against the door, hoping to hear some kind of movement. I'm greeted with silence.

Beatrix doesn't have a car, so she must be within walking distance. That doesn't exactly narrow down the places she could be, seeing as most people can walk right through Winifred in the blink of an eye and not even realize it.

I go around the house looking for any signs of a break-in or foul play. After fixing the front door, I made replacing the windows a priority. Several were broken, but now all of them are new, aside from the stained glass in the turret. Everything is in place, and nothing looks disturbed. Or, at least nothing looks more disturbed than a construction site normally looks. So, not very helpful.

Shit. Think, idiot, think of where she might be.

I grunt in frustration then sit on the porch with my head in my hands. Things were good. They were perfect. What happened? And why did Bea feel like she couldn't talk to me?

I'm not sure how much time has passed, but eventually, I lift my head up and look out across the front yard.

What the fuck?! How did I not notice the giant red "For Sale" sign stuck in the ground? She's selling the house?

I walk over to the sign, noting that there isn't a number or anything to call for more info, so maybe I still have time to change her mind. I have no idea what's going on, only that I need to find my woman and get some answers. It's fine if she doesn't want to live here. She can move in with me or stay with my mom and aunt if that makes her more comfortable. I can buy her a new house if she's tired of working on this one. I'd do anything to keep her in my life. I thought she knew that.

"Beck?" Bea's soft, tentative voice reaches my ears, and I turn, shattered by what I see. My woman has tears streaming down her face, her normally radiant green eyes dull and rimmed in red. "I… I-I didn't know how t-to tell you," she says with a sniffle as another wave of tears falls down her cheeks.

"Tell me what, sweetheart?" I open my arms, praying, wishing, hoping with all of my might that she'll let me hold her and listen to whatever has her in tears.

Bea darts her eyes between me, the For Sale sign, and the house itself before she focuses back on me. I notice for the first time that Bea is clutching a giant folder crammed full of official-looking documents. I furrow my brow, but before I can ask about it, Bea collapses into my arms.

I hold her - folder, tears, and all, rocking her back and forth while sobs wrack her body. "I've got you," I whisper. "I don't know what happened, but we'll work through it."

"We can't," she says in between sobs. "We can't work on anything anymore."

Even more puzzled, I manage to peel Beatrix off my chest so I can look at her. "Let's go inside," I offer. "Tell me what's going on." Bea drops her head as if in shame, then nods and starts trudging toward the door as if being led to her execution.

Once inside, I guide my woman to the kitchen table, pulling out a chair for her before sitting next to her. We sit in silence for a few moments while Bea gathers her thoughts.

"I got a call after you left," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. "The executor of my great-great aunt's will, the one who gave me this house and all of her money, said… he said…" Bea shakes her head as if it's too painful to repeat.

"Tell me about your aunt," I ask, instead of demanding that she tell me what this fucker told her over the phone to make her cry. Maybe a slight change of subject will help ease her into whatever is so horrible.

"I don't know anything about her," Bea says, surprising me. "I never even knew she existed. I was always told I had no family. My dad wasn't around and my mom died while giving birth to me. That was it."

I nod and take her hand in mine, rubbing calming circles over her knuckles. "I'm so sorry you went through that," I murmur.

Bea shrugs. "It wasn't all bad. I mean, a lot of my foster families were… well, I guess they weren't great. But I had a friend, Aurora. She made sure I was taken care of."

My sweet girl. Trying to look on the bright side and not wanting to burden me with her past. It's fine for now, but I want all of her secrets, even the painful ones.

"After I aged out of the system," Bea continues, "I knew I needed to get out of our small Texan town. I had odd jobs here and there but never really felt like I belonged, you know?" Again, I nod. "And then out of the blue, I get a call from Samuel Maxton, who introduced himself as the executor of Mary Leavenworth's will. More specifically, he informed me that she didn't have a will, but he was able to track me down as her only living relative."

"Holy shit," I say under my breath. "What a huge life change." I'm even more impressed with her than I was before, which is saying something.

"I thought this was it. This was my lucky break, the chance I'd been waiting for. And then… and then you came along and I knew it was all too good to be true."

I'm trying to follow her logic here, but I'm missing something. "Did I mess something up?"

"No, not at all," she's quick to say. "You were perfect. You are perfect. And you've put so much time and energy into fixing the place up. I just… I don't know how to tell you."

"Tell me what? You're going to have to spell it out for me, beautiful. I'm not understanding the problem."

"The call today was to tell me someone found the will. A family friend or something had it in a safe deposit box. They froze all of the inheritance money aside from the two hundred dollars I was allowed to withdraw from the bank, which is where I just came from."

I'm in shock. I can hardly process her words.

"The lady at the bank had all of this paperwork and then I had to talk to more bankers and lawyers and the new people who were supposed to inherit everything, and, and… and I don't know anything anymore!" she sobs. "I have nowhere to go and no money to go there. Even worse, I don't have the money to pay you for everything you've done. God, Beck, I'm so sorry. I didn't know what else to do. I had already spent a portion of the inheritance money on moving expenses and buying supplies for the repairs on the house. We reached an agreement that I wouldn't have to pay them back the money I spent if I could sell the house for twice that amount. I don't… I don't know what I'm doing or how to do it or what this means for us. I just… I'm so tired."

Bea finally lets everything go, every worry, every secret, every betrayal, and every tear. I stand and pull her up from her seat so she's in front of me, tears still glistening in her eyes. I hold her face in my hands, making sure she's looking at me.

"Beatrix," I start, wiping her tears away with my thumbs. "I want you, with or without this house." She tries to shake her head no, but she can't. I nod yes, then kiss her forehead. "I'm here for you , sweetheart. Have I enjoyed working on different projects with you? Of course. Do I think the house has the potential to be even more magnificent than it was in its heyday? Sure. But I don't want any part of it if you're not by my side."

"But… but all the work we did. You said we were building our future."

"The key word there being we. I want to be with you , Bea. I love you."

This gets her attention. "Me?"

"I don't see anyone else here," I tease.

"You love me?" she asks again. I hate the doubt and disbelief in her voice. I'll make sure she hears it a hundred times a day from now on.

"I love you in a way I don't understand, and I don't want to. Everything about you draws me in, from your sass and clever comebacks to your strength and resilience. I love every inch of your body, the way you feel inside, your lips, your tongue, god, Bea, you're perfect. You're it for me. The most precious woman I've ever met."

"Beck," she says with a sniffle. "I love you, too. I was so worried you'd be mad that I wasted your time. I'm so used to people leaving when I mess up. I didn't want to lose you. That's why I couldn't answer your calls or texts. I thought I'd never see you again and I just wanted to rip the Band-Aid off."

"I'm never leaving you, Beatrix. You're mine. I've never shared this kind of connection with anyone, not even close. I'm not going to give you up for anything, let alone a house."

"It's a good house though," Bea says, making me smile as I wrap my arms around her.

"It is a good house," I agree. She said it's for sale, and I have every intention of snatching it up before it even hits the market. I'll give my woman anything and everything. "I have money set aside," I murmur as I rock her back and forth. "And I've always loved this house. Would you consider selling it to me? It would be your house in every way, just my name on the deed."

"You… you don't really mean that, do you?"

"Of course, I do. I'll call my lawyer right now and have him draw up the papers. A direct sale doesn't need a realtor or anything."

"Beck, I don't know what to say."

"Say yes, beautiful."