Page 46 of Home Brewed (The Perfect Cup #1)

Beck

I can’t believe she lied to me. She read my emails and then lied to me for a month about it. I’m so angry I kick a snowbank and instantly regret it when my foot finds what is likely the only rock hiding in there. My toe aches, but it’s nothing compared to the shredding feeling behind my sternum.

She read my email. She lied about it. Then she spent the next month trying to be good enough that I wouldn’t send her away.

How could she think I would ever send her away? I need her like I need to breathe. I need her lightness and her laughter. I need to be the one who’s there for her when she’s sad, and cooks her meals in the evening so she can relax with her book. But she thought I would discard her. Over money .

She thinks I want to leave her. That’s why she got the apartment, even though I know for a fact she feels at home here, that she’s made this her home.

That’s why she was so off after the call with her mom.

She’s been torturing herself over these thoughts for a month, and then her mom swoops in and confirms every bad thing she believes about herself.

Fuck .

I’ve never truly hated someone, and I will never tell Hazel how deeply, how viciously, I hate her mother.

Hate her with every morsel of my soul. She took a beautiful woman who was painstakingly collecting herself after having her heart put in a blender and somehow found a way to tear her down more.

Hazel’s relationship with her mother is her own, but I will support her in any way she chooses to protect herself.

And if she won’t protect herself, I will.

I want that role. I want to be that for her.

And I walked out. She’s scared of me leaving her, and the second we fight, I walk away? Shit. I guess her mom isn’t the only person feeding into the lies swirling around in her mind. I kick the snowbank one more time before turning on my heel and heading back towards the house.

The house is quiet when I let myself in.

The living room light is still on, but there’s no sound.

I quietly slip off my shoes and remove my jacket.

I see her neck-stepping boots on the rack next to mine, so I know she’s still here.

She’s been slowly buying new pairs since most of her things were destroyed, but she loves these boots. She wouldn’t have left without them.

Something clatters upstairs and my heart jumps. I spring into action, running up the steps. I need to find her. I need to make this right. We’re both learning each other, and we’re both new at this. I don’t care who fucked up, I want to be able to put us back together again.

When I turn the corner to go into my room, however, she isn’t in there. Her bag is packed and sitting in the corner, and from here I can see enough into the ensuite to know that there’s only one toothbrush at the sink. But she didn’t leave?

Does she think I don’t want her anymore?

Fuck, of course she does. I haven’t given her any reason to think otherwise .

I hear a sniffle at the door and turn around. Hazel stands there; a charging cord limp in her hand.

She’s collecting her things.

The sight of her makes me ache. Her eyes are puffy, and her hair is a mess.

She’s got her arms wrapped around herself, holding herself together, and that’s when I notice she’s wearing my shirt.

She’s wearing something of mine to comfort her.

I gently tug her into the room. I sit down on the bed and pull her down with me onto my lap.

The tiny squeak she lets out is satisfying, but she doesn’t melt into me the way she normally does. Her body is stiff and only partially turned towards me, leaning away slightly.

“Where are you going, pretty girl?” My hands graze her hips, pulling her closer.

“I didn’t want you to have to deal with me, or make me move–”

“If you don’t mind, I don’t want you to go anywhere. There’s nowhere I’d rather you be than in my bed.” I love you.

“Aren’t you mad? At me? For what I did?” Each phrase is punctuated by a sniffle, her watery voice mangling me, and I brush my thumb over her cheekbones, staring into those beautiful, rich brown eyes.

“Yes.” She flinches, and I hold her closer.

“That doesn’t mean the way I feel about you has changed.

I still want you. I need you. You have become imperative to me, I don’t want you anywhere else.

” She leans her head into my shoulder now, soft sobs rocking her slight frame as I sway us gently.

“We’re going to fight if we’re going to be together, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you, or that I want you gone.

I want to see where we go, what we can be. I want you.” I love you.

“I want to stay here,” she says softly into my neck, small tears tickling me as they slide down to my shoulder.

“I want you to stay as well. Everything else, we’ll figure out.”

“I’m so sorry, Beck.”

“I’m sorry, too.” I love you. Her head pops up and she looks at me, inviting me to say more.

“I shouldn’t have left because I was angry.

I should have stayed and worked on it with you.

And we will work on it. I don’t want to leave you, or ditch you, or use you and get rid of you, and it’s killing me that I made you think that way for even a moment, pretty girl. ”

She doesn’t loosen her hold on me, and I rock her for what could be a moment or an hour. Time has no meaning when she’s in my arms.

“Beck, I have to tell you one other thing.” I already know what it is, but I leave room for her to tell me.

“What is it, sugar?”

“I got myself an apartment. I move in at the end of next month.” I’m expecting it; however, I’m not expecting it to hurt the way it does. And I’m not expecting it so soon. But if this is what she needs, I will support her wholeheartedly.

“I know, baby.” A startled expression crosses her face.

“You knew?”

“I saw you looking at apartments one day when I was driving by. I wasn’t trying to snoop. But I know. I know how important your independence is to you.” She looks pensive before allowing herself to fold back into me. “I’ll even help you move, if you want?” I love you.

If she could burrow into my chest right now, I think she would.

She starts to tell me about her apartment in a hushed voice, how excited she is to have some of her own space again.

Something that’s just hers. And I’m happy for her, I really am.

I try to remind myself that it’s not me she’s leaving, she’s simply looking out for herself in the best way she knows how, in the way that has served her best all her life.

One day I hope she’ll let me take the job. Until then, I can be patient.

For her.