Chapter 17

"This is Will. How may I help you?" I'd gotten zero work done over the weekend, so I needed to double up on the coffee and focus this week. Our hospital had pretty decent funding streams, especially given the size of our island, primarily due to grants that we actively sought out. It was time-consuming, but it would be tight without them, and our extra programs would certainly be on the chopping block.

Although small, we partnered with several local colleges on the mainland for specialty intern programs, extensively recruited for research options with operating grants, and set up partnerships with for-profit companies to have affiliated labs here. Several wealthy families with ties to the island donated heavily to the program, but a big part of my job was finding and applying for grants to fill in the funding gaps.

In our department, my coworker, Thuy, and I split responsibilities for the ER. Today, I was entirely in the back office, not the patient representative on call, and when my desk phone rang, I was engrossed in an operating cost spreadsheet.

"Hey, man, it's Tyler! How have you been? It's been a while." My mind was a complete blank on who was calling me.

"Tyler! I'm good, thanks. And you?" I tried to sound like I wasn't thoroughly confused.

"Ha! You have no idea who this is, do you?"

"Well, um, give me a hint." Please don't let it be a donor.

"We went to college together. We graduated together. We both have social worker degrees."

"Oh my God, Tyler. I'm so sorry. I'm going through spreadsheets for a grant application this morning, and I've been completely focused on that. Jesus. Seriously, how are you? It's been forever." I felt so dumb.

"Meh, no worries. It was out of the blue, and I don't think I gave my last name. Anyway, it doesn't matter because I had a work-related reason for calling. I'm down at Portland Metro, and we are looking to get a better handle on utilizing grants. We've done okay, but there is a big gap between what we have now and what we could have."

"Okay, how can we help with that?" I was lost on what this had to do with our hospital since we had a significantly smaller operation and were several hours away.

"Well, your facility came up as an example of what was possible with dedicated specialists, even with a smaller operation. Your name specifically came up over and over as being the one making it happen. We are looking to revamp our program. When I realized I knew you, I volunteered to call and talk to you about it."

"You want to know how we structure our grant application process?" I was a little confused about why they thought I could help. They should have a grant coordinator to do that at a place as prominent as Portland Metro. "And it's definitely not just me. It's our entire department."

"Well, yes, but we want to do it in-house as a full-time position as the grant coordinator, which should have been happening already. Our department has seriously missed numerous opportunities by not having a specialized team. I assumed there was one when I got here, and I just hadn't met them. The board is pretty pissed about the whole thing. What that means for you is the salary offer is generous because they know they will need to pay a premium for someone who can get started when they walk in the door." Tyler's words whooshed out in one long breath as if he were worried he wouldn't get to say them all.

"Wow. This was not a phone call I was expecting. Out of curiosity, what kind of salary difference are you talking about?" It never hurt to ask, right?

"Forty percent over your current verified salary plus fully paid moving expenses. It's full-time with benefits, of course. You could probably work from home at least a day or two a week if you wanted."

"Holy shit!" For a social worker, that was an off-the-fucking-chart offer. "Seriously? Damn." I'd forgotten to play it cool. Given Tyler's laughing, he agreed it'd been over the top.

"Yeah, like I said, they are pissed this was overlooked. I guess the person who did it before left, the position was vacant, and then it was overlooked until the funding streams the grants provided started drying up. HR said not to tell you, but fuck them since they screwed this up, but there is some negotiating room."

"Damn, that's a hell of an offer. When are you looking to hire someone?"

"Hold up, Will. We aren't looking to hire someone. This is your offer. Metro isn't opening it to the public until you've had a chance to accept or decline. I meant what I said. They've heard about your work. Your hospital and mine share some of the same big-money donors. The job is yours if you want it."

Oh damn.

"This is unexpected, Tyler. I would need some time to consider it. What timeframe are you guys looking at?"

"I can give you a few weeks, but the sooner, the better."

We did a little more small talk and then said our goodbyes. My mind raced so fast that it was hard to collect my thoughts. This wasn't how I had expected to start my morning. It was so far from my expectations that I bounced all over the place with how to handle it.

The social worker in me knew that offers like this didn't come around often. I loved my job, but few people were clamoring to do it. The pay here was decent, but it wasn't great. You got to help people, but there was a lot of crisis mode response, and secondary trauma burnout was a real thing. I had no idea that our work getting grants and partnerships had been noticed by our governing board. My boss was pleased, and I was getting good evaluations, but this was beyond that. It did bug me that Thuy, my coworker, hadn't also been given credit.

The first person I wanted to tell was Beckett because he was quickly becoming my person. Hell, he was my person. But I didn't know what to say to him that wouldn't make it seem like I'd bulldozed my way into his life, created chaos, and then planned on potentially bailing. If I took the offer, that would be precisely what happened.

The opportunity in Portland was beyond anything I could hope for here on the island or anywhere where my primary purpose was social work. Being a couple of hours away without traffic delays, Portland was too far to commute. If I accepted, I'd have to move there. Moving to Portland meant long distance with Beckett or breaking up.

The choices were diametrically opposed, and there was no in-between. We'd been together a few weeks if one were generous with the timeline, and this island was his safe space. There was no way he'd be happy anywhere else but here.

Fuck. This felt so damn unfair. Beckett was everything I'd ever wanted in a boyfriend and quite a bit of what I hadn't known I wanted. My mom would ask if I wanted to be ruled by love or money. My dad would shake his head and say love was hard if you couldn't support the person you loved. He'd say take the job.

Beckett and I weren't a long-term couple or engaged. We hadn't even said the L-word. On paper, he was probably right. But I knew I liked Beckett a lot. We were compatible in and out of the bedroom. I could see the possibility of forever, even if he didn't see it. Yet.

When I moved to Almstead Island, I thought it would be temporary to get some experience in the field and try something not directly tied to social services like child protection or elder care. Those are critical jobs, but not how I wanted to use my degree. My plan was to focus on systemic change rather than the individual. My current job allowed me the best of both worlds: patient care and the bigger picture.

Tyler had said I had some time to decide, and I would take every minute of the time given. I knew that I needed to speak with Beckett about it. But I also needed to figure out my feelings for the man. Unquestionably, he was someone that I could love. He was strong when he had to be and soft just for me. I'd been in like and definitely in lust before, but never in love. Was this what it felt like? Hell if I knew.

After my drama queen blow-up at his family's place, there wasn't any reason to keep anything quiet, and I wanted to see my baby for lunch.

The café was crowded with the lunch rush, but I snagged a table toward the back with some privacy. I was a little early, which gave me time for people-watching while I waited for Beckett. The island was a mixture of older, established families and new ones coming in daily. It had gained a reputation for being queer and family-friendly, which led to more new businesses and arrivals every week.

I had desperately wanted to get out of Chicago and go somewhere new after high school, so I'd closed my eyes and pointed at the map. My finger had landed on Seattle, and I'd started researching schools that would accept me. Thanks to my parents' careful planning, I hadn't needed to worry about tuition or housing for school. My grandparents were all gone by the time I was ten, but I had an inheritance from them tucked away in an account for a rainy day.

People said women married men who were like their dads, but did the same hold true for men? I thought we were supposed to marry people who were like our mothers. Beckett was nothing like mine. She was outgoing and bold. She loved bright colors and could find a friend in an empty room. Sunshine radiated out of her. She and Dad were complete opposites, but they fit perfectly. He was much more cautious and withdrawn of the two. He said he liked being an accountant because his books were the quietest coworkers available.

I thought my parents would like Beckett. My mom would make it her mission to take him under her wing, and he'd learn to love her or forever be pestered in her efforts to make it happen anyway. On the other hand, my dad would ask her to give Beckett some space. He'd kidnap him, and the two of them would hide out in my dad's bookshelf-lined study, reading books in complete silence and not speaking to each other. They would be in heaven.

I was so lost in thought that I missed Beckett slipping in the door until he was next to the table.

"Hi." Beckett's words startled me, and I jumped a little in my seat. "Oh shit. Sorry."

I gave him my brightest smile. "It's not your fault I wasn't paying attention. Sit." Beckett slipped into the chair across from me. I wanted to point out that he hadn't chosen the seat directly next to me but then decided I was being a baby. "I'm glad you could make it."

He was working nights this week but had the next few days off. He was dressed casually in a worn pair of jeans that emphasized his thick thighs. His bomber jacket was open, giving peekaboo glimpses of his sculpted chest covered in a tight waffle-weave shirt. He hadn't bothered to shave, so his scruff was deliciously scruffy. My fingers itched to trace his soft lips and the contrasted prickliness of his jawline. Damn, Beckett was so fucking hot. My mouth watered every time I looked at him. My dick did the same.

Beckett shrugged. "I was just doing shit around the house. Our rotating schedule takes a day or two for me to get used to." Beckett scowled and ground out his words in a gravelly voice.

"What's going on, sweetheart?"

Beckett jerked his head up. "What do you mean?"

"Because I know you, and something is on your mind." I kept my voice low and gentle. Regardless of what weighed on his mind, he'd never want strangers to overhear him.

Beckett's sigh was weary. "My dad called this morning…" Beckett's voice trailed off. That fucker better not have said shit to my sweet baby.

"What did he want?" I was proud of my ability to use my social worker voice. Yay for training.

"He had things to say about what happened last weekend."

"And?"

"And I didn't fucking like it." Beckett shot daggers at me, and his expression was fierce. This wasn't the time to discuss his asshole parents, but I was proud he'd told me. Beckett was a man who kept his troubles and worries to himself. He was opening up, and that was a damn big step. This was, I suspected, the point when people pulled away. He struggled to express himself, which came out as anger and frustration. I knew the truth. He was hurt. Fuckers.

"Thank you for telling me." I reached across the table and made grabby hands for him. He grunted but complied. After he slammed his massive hand down on the table, I gave him a look. "Be nice, and I'll give you a treat later." I waggled my eyebrows a few times, and he laughed like I'd hoped he would. The sound of his laughter was still foreign to me, but it washed over me like a river of happiness.

I grabbed the menus and handed one to Beckett. He quietly looked over it before he decided on a grilled chicken salad with a side of fruit. I had intended to order a greasy burger and fries, but that plan was shamed out. I had a grilled chicken Caesar salad instead—so much health-ing. I suspected Beckett liked decent food and, if provided the opportunity, would prefer it over the takeout. He needed someone to ensure he was getting a daily dose of greens, and it was a good thing I was up for the job.

"What have you been doing this week since I haven't been around to bug you?"

"I've been reading about hay bale gardening. I'm thinking about trying some outside gardening. I haven't done much with the outside, but I want to clean up the place. My grandma always took pride in her garden, and I've let it go to shit. She's probably rolling in her grave about how I've let it go."

"Nope. She loved you, and she'd know how hard a changing schedule is when you are the only one doing the work. No one gets to talk shit about you, including you. Are we clear?" My voice was firm and steady. There was no way Beckett would be allowed to put himself down. For too fucking long, his self-talk had been in his father's voice, and I'd be damned if I'd let it happen with me around.

With a sheepish grin, Beckett nodded his head. I crooked my finger at him and had him lean over the table toward me. When he was close enough, I whispered, "Sweetheart, you're such a good boy for Daddy. Will you let me fix dinner tonight so I can show you properly?" Beckett looked shocked, but his pleased smile was too sweet for words, and he quickly nodded. He was too cute.

Beckett was saved from further blushes by the server dropping off our food, and we both dug in like we hadn't eaten in a week. Given the state of Beckett's fridge, maybe he hadn't eaten properly for a week. Our lunch was interrupted when my phone rang. I wasn't expecting a call, so I sent it straight to voicemail. I hadn't even gotten it back into my pocket before it rang again. At the same time, a text message from my trivia teammate, Alyssa, said to pick up the phone. I answered.

"Alyssa, what's up?"

"Thank God you picked up." Her voice sounded frantic.

"Are you okay? What's wrong?"

"Joey's on the mainland and forgot some part of his work presentation. It could make or break his promotion. My parents are on vacation. Can you get Penelope from daycare and watch her until I return today? Please! I don't know who else to call."

Beckett silently watched me but didn't interrupt or ask who was on the phone. He'd put down his fork when it was apparent the call was serious.

"Yeah, yeah, of course I can. Do you think the hospital has a spare car seat?"

"I need to get to the ferry, but the daycare is on the way. I'll drop it off for you there. Do you remember where it's at? It's like two blocks from the hospital near the park."

"Busy Bees, right? Make sure you let them know I have permission to get her."

"Yeah, that's the one. You're a lifesaver. Thank you so much!"

"Stop. It's no trouble. Keep me posted, and let me know if there's anything else I can do to help. I have to go back to work and finish a report, and then I'll get her."

"Yeah, okay, I owe you."

"No, you don't."

When I hung up the phone, Beckett's face was etched with concern.

"Is everything okay?"

"Remember Alyssa from trivia?" Beckett nodded, so I continued. "Her husband needs a file that he left here on the mainland. She said it was pretty important for his job. She needs to get there, but her folks are out of town, so she needs someone to pick up Penelope from daycare and watch her this evening until she can get back home."

"Oh shit. I hope she makes it in time."

"I'm sorry about dinner." I squeezed Beckett's hand that lay across the table. My absolute lack of options for anything a kid might want to do at my place hit me, and I flopped back against my chair. "I don't have any toys or books for kids at my place. I've got the sand buckets, but that's not great without sand. Or water. I wonder if the hospital has some I can borrow?"

"Uh, my grandparents kept some toys from when I was little. They kept books too. I've told myself I'd get rid of them, but…" Beckett's words trailed off, and he looked away from me.

He had a reason for keeping them because the one thing I knew with absolute certainty about Beckett was he only did things for a reason. He was a plotter. Not in a nefarious villain kind of way. He was deliberate in his choices.

If he'd kept the toys and books from his childhood rather than cleaning them out to make more room for his books, they served a purpose. He just wasn't ready to tell me the purpose, which was fine. I'd wait for it.

"I could pick them up and take them back to my place."

"If you wanted, you and Penelope could hang out at my house tonight." His expression was hesitant. "You know what, never mind. That's dumb. I'm sure you…"

"Stop, right there. It's not dumb. It's sweet, and so are you. We can keep our dinner plans, and you're gonna love Penelope. She's awesome. We can all cook dinner together."

Beckett leaned forward and said, "I can't wait, Daddy."

I swear to God, I almost swooned on the spot.