Page 77 of Perfect Composition

“He’s my daughter’s uncle,” I reply honestly.

“Right. If you attempt to kill him, we have to take you down, but he’s handled himself in enough bar fights. We’re good with anything fair.” At those words, Kane turns his back pointedly on me.

“I might have a bro-crush on your security team—that is who they are, Beckett?” Ethan asks.

“Yes, they’re…” I don’t even get the question out, before Ethan’s taking a shot at my face with a solid right hook.

“You asshole. That wasn’t for getting my baby sister pregnant. That was for breaking her damn heart.”

I dab my lip with my fingers and come away with blood. “Feel any better?”

“Somewhat.”

“Then do you think we could actually talk? There’s a lot I need to explain.”

“Like why you’re still here?” Ethan challenges.

“No. Like why I’m not planning on leaving anytime soon.”

BECKETT

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

I don’t need a sludgy-colored snow for the holiday season. I need Beckett Miller. I’m debating buying a ticket to LA to see if I can find him.

— Sexy&Social, All the Scandal You Can Handle

Ethan and I came to an understanding of sorts after he took a few shots at me. And that was before ranting at me for a good thirty minutes about how much harm I did to Paige. I cut him off by saying, “Don’t throw any more punches and I’ll make you a promise. One I intend to keep. I won’t hurt her.”

“Oh good. That means I can let out this pent-up frustration somewhere. Because there is no way you can promise me that.”

Laconically, I drawled, “And see, growing up I always thought Jess was the one with a stick up his ass. What has you so bent out of shape, E? Woman issues? Maybe I can offer some advice.”

He dove at me, but fortunately I sidestepped him. “This is about you and Paigey, you dickhead. You have no idea about what it was like for her—”

“I’m getting a good idea—”

“—even when you were here. You were so intent on your problems, your issues. Do you know the way the old man treated her?” And for the next thirty minutes, Ethan told me things I never knew about the woman I loved that she never shared about her hierarchy in the Kensington family.

I left forgetting about the swelling of my lip, more intent on seeking out Paige. But after a silent ride back to her home, leaving Austyn, who declared, “I need to do some Christmas shopping. You do you,” I prowl through the front door to come up short at the sound of a familiar tune.

And a fitting one after my conversation with Ethan.

“Bruce Hornsby,” I comment as I close the door. “Brilliant musician. Just as brilliant lyricist.”

Paige’s head snaps up. For just a moment, her guards are down, and I can read everything Ethan told me I’d find there: loneliness, sorrow, and pain.Damn, she puts up a good front.I lean down against the back of the sofa and give her a chance to gather herself. And it’s almost painful to see her strap on the shields she wears. Because I now know she’s worn them her entire life.

Does she even realize she’s doing it anymore?I wonder. But instead of asking that, I remark, “I forgot you played.”

“There’s a lot about me you no longer recall, Beckett,” she replies truthfully.

“If you let me, I’d like the chance to change that. I think there’s a lot we don’t know about who we are now, Paige, that’s worth knowing.” I push away from the couch and make my way over to her. “I want the chance to get to know you, this you. Not the girl I fell for years ago, not the mother of my child, but you.”

For a moment my heart beats wildly out of control. She leans forward, resting her arms on the piano until our faces are close—too close. I could lean forward a few inches and kiss the breath out of her body.

And then her brows lower in confusion. “I don’t understand.”

“What do you mean?”