Page 30 of Salvaged Heart

30

BECKHAM

DECEMBER

T he sun was already beginning to dip low in the sky despite it being barely four o’clock in the afternoon. The shadows stretched before me were the only indicator of how long I’d been sitting there. Time seemed to be moving at its own pace, seconds dragging, turning minutes into hours, hours into days, days into months.

Four long, long months.

A familiar presence appeared by my side, a small hand slipping into mine as Laurel sat beside me on the cold ground. She shivered, pulling her coat tighter around herself before gently laying her head on my shoulder. Nashville had been having a mild winter, but no amount of heat could warm the chill I’d felt in Anders’ absence.

At first, I’d been delusional, sure that if I gave Anders the space he needed, the phone would ring, and he would be on the other end. He would apologize for everything he’d said to me. He’d tell me he loved me, too, and that he should have never let me go. But that call never came.

It took me a long time to leave Lake Norman, dragging my heels on the last few items of the renovation despite the additional help Margery hired to assist me. But as the end of September approached, I’d run out of excuses and reluctantly packed my things to head back to Nashville. My parents were overjoyed to see me, especially with my renewed interest in Dad’s business, and he put me to work immediately, letting me run a few projects of my own. The distraction was good, but my heart still ached fiercely.

“He would be happy you came,” Laurel whispered. I had to resist the urge to snap at her and tell her she had no clue what Anders would want, but I knew that was unfair.

That was before. The reality now was that she would know better than anyone, maybe except for Kara, who he was living with, what Anders would want. She hadn’t experienced the radio silence I had been subjected to. Their communication was limited, but he’d called her a few times from rehab, the last time on the day he got out. I’d been sitting on the couch in her apartment, trying to stay as quiet as possible so he wouldn’t hear me in the background. His voice came over the speakerphone, breaking my heart.

He’d said, “I feel good, Laurel.”

He’d said, “I want to see you when you have time.”

He’d said, “I’m sorry for everything. I’ll do better, I promise. I’ll find a way to make this right.”

“Beck’s here with me.” Laurel had told him. “Would you talk to him? He misses you.”

He’d said, “I have to go,” and hung up.

Laurel had been all I had the past few months, my only comfort, and her support hadn’t wavered. It was probably our deep history, but she could read me like a book. Knowing when I needed to talk, filling the silence with stories of Anders as a teenager, running amuck all over town. The trouble the two of them got into with one another. She knew when I needed silence and allowed me to get lost in my thoughts and memories of him. But she was always there, by my side, giving my hand soft squeezes, muttering assurances that everything would be okay. That one day, I’d heal from this.

“We should probably head out. They will be locking up soon, and we need to get on the road anyway. Dad said dinner will be served at six. We should try to get there early.”

I nodded my understanding, and she rose, hovering in my periphery, waiting for me. I’m not sure why Laurel hadn’t told her parents we weren’t together anymore. The one time I asked her, she just shrugged and said there hadn’t been a good moment. I guess with Anders’ suicide attempt and his rehab stint still fresh, the last thing she wanted to do was bring up the circumstances around our breakup. But even before the two of us had gotten together romantically, we had been good friends, and since leaving Lake Norman, we'd found some of that lost friendship with one another. I could pretend for her, at least for a little longer. After Christmas, she would tell them.

“Can you just give me another minute?”

Laurel didn’t answer, but I heard her leave. Boots crunching over the remanence of dry fallen leaves, the sound of her car’s engine coming to life a moment later. I pressed my palm to the gravestone before me, trying to find the right words. I’d never been a religious person. I'd never believed that once a person passed on, their soul stuck around, but in this moment, I felt his presence everywhere.

I’d visited Jonah almost every day since I returned to Nashville. Laurel was insistent we discover where he was buried, and it hadn’t taken long for us to hunt his grave down. I don’t know what continued to call me here. Maybe it was the need to feel connected to Anders in some way. Perhaps it was to remind myself of how lucky I was that his heart still beat, even if it no longer beat for me.

Finding my throat suddenly too dry to say all the things I’d wanted to, I stood and took one last look before I turned back towards where Laurel leaned against her car, scrolling through her phone.

“Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

She wandered around the back of the car and slipped into the passenger side while I folded myself into the driver’s seat.

“Thanks for doing this.” She regarded me with the sort of pitying look she’d most often used since I'd returned to Tennessee. “I know it’s kind of awkward.”

“I always spend Christmas Eve with your family. It will be like every other year. Plus, it’s not like we aren’t still friends.” I put the car in drive and pulled away.

She nodded and went back to texting on her phone.

“Is that…?”

“No, just the group chat from my biochem lab.” She flashed the screen at me, and I tried to hide my disappointment. “I promise to tell you if I hear anything from him, Beck.”

“I know.”

“We really can’t thank you enough for all your work on Millie’s place this summer, Beckham.” Alexander Mitchell said, from where he sat in his favorite high-backed armchair by the fire.

He wasn’t a tall man or even that particularly large, but he had this presence that seemed to take up an entire room, not in a good way. During the first few years I’d been dating his daughter, just the thought of having to interact with the man was terrifying, but for reasons unknown to me, he seemed to like me enough and had always been kind, even if it was that fake, sickly sort of kindness.

“It was no trouble, sir.”

Laurel’s stepmom sat to his right, looking put together as always. She was wearing a red and green dress that made her look equal parts festive and fifties housewife. Her hands were clasped together on her lap, lips pursed. I'd never gotten the warm and nurturing vibes that I got from my mother, but I couldn’t help but notice that today, she looked especially tense.

“Can I get you something to drink, Mrs. Mitchell?” I offered, standing and heading in the direction of where Alexander usually kept his bar cart. It was noticeably empty. I had just needed an excuse to pour myself one, but she waved me away.

“I’m fine, dear.” The pet name came from her lips like it was a struggle to say.

The whole affair was starting to feel suffocating. We'd barely been here forty minutes, but the air felt tight and thin. Laurel’s parents walked on eggshells around one another, barely acknowledging the other’s presence. Laurel carried most of the conversation, prattling on about the courses she was taking this semester and her internship over the summer. A habit she'd trained herself to fall into any time she was around her parents. It used to bother me when we were together, but now it bothered me more, knowing everything I'd learned over the summer.

I had just been trying to take up as little space as possible and allow Laurel to be the center of attention. However, Alexander’s attention was now trained solely on me.

“You are being modest, boy. Linda and I drove up there for Thanksgiving to get one final look before the place was put on the market, and the work you did was fantastic.”

I just nodded my thanks to him.

“Your father would be very proud. Laurel tells me you have joined the family business since you’ve been back.”

“Yes, Sir. I hope to learn as much as possible from him before starting my own company in a few years.”

“I’m sure he’s thrilled to have you back.” He paused again, glancing over at his wife before he said to her in a low tone. “Why don’t you go check on dinner, darling? I’m feeling quite starved.”

“Just a few more minutes, Alex…“

“I said I would give it until six. It is now six fifteen. I will not sit around waiting forever.” His tone was short and matter-of-fact.

His wife stood without further protest and scurried from the room with a sad but unreadable expression on her face. Alexander waited for her to be out of hearing range before he leaned forward, closing some of the space between him and me, twisting his body as if trying to block Laurel from the conversation.

“And the other business.” It took me a moment to realize what he was talking about. “Laurel told me if you had not been there, I would be short a son. Not that he has seen himself as part of this family for a long time.” He added the last part like he couldn’t help himself to point it out. “They might be estranged, but his mother cares for him. It would have caused her great pain if…”

His words trailed off as Linda sauntered back into the living room, but we both knew what they would be.

“Paulina said we can go ahead and get seated now. She will be ready to serve in five minutes.”

“I can go help her.” I offered as I stood again. I needed a break to clear this sudden crippling ache that had overtaken my chest just at the mention of Anders.

But Alexander waved me off and led me into the dining room. As usual, Laurel’s stepmom had outdone herself, or more likely, her long-suffering housekeeper-turned-chef had. The table had a crisp red tablecloth, a gold runner down the middle, and an elaborate centerpiece of evergreen leaves and holly berries. Candles were lit along the table, and the whole room smelled wonderful. The scent of Paulina’s excellent cooking wafted in from the kitchen, one room over. My stomach grumbled despite my appetite being virtually nonexistent.

Alexander took his usual seat at the head of the table, his wife sitting to his right and Laurel to his left. I took mine next to Laurel, my eyes snagging on the extra place setting directly across from me.

Paulina shuffled into the room. She looked like she had aged about ten years since I’d last seen her. I imagined working for the Mitchells would have that effect on a person. Her arms were heavy with dishes that she placed on the buffet table against the back wall.

“You might as well clear that extra setting,” Mr. Mitchell said to her. “Turns out we won’t be needing it after all.” Linda made a half-choking sound, which she tried to disguise as a cough, but it caught Alexander’s frustrated attention anyway. “Pull it together, woman. I don’t know what you expected.”

You could have cut the tension in the room with a knife, the air so thick with it I felt like I was being crushed. No interaction with Laurel’s parents was particularly pleasant, but something was off today, and I couldn’t put my finger on it. Maybe they'd discovered that their daughter and I were no longer together and were trying to keep up the illusion that they were oblivious. A strange thank you for the work I did over the summer. Or maybe, me, being the one that saved Anders’ life, was reminding them of times they would rather have forgotten. Either way, I hoped Paulina hurried up and served the food as quickly as possible so I could choke it down and make some excuse to leave early.

At some point, Laurel’s hand came to rest on mine, where it lay on top of the table. She squeezed my fingers, glancing to ensure her father’s attention was elsewhere before mouthing, Sorry. It wasn’t her fault, and I leaned in to reassure her, but the sound of the doorbell cut me off.

Linda stood so fast I thought she would send the table flying. She moved to answer the door, but Alexander tugged her back into her seat. “Sit. Paulina will get it.”

She shifted awkwardly, glancing between the doorway to the dining room and where her nervous fingers fidgeted in her lap.

“Mr. Carmichael!” Paulina’s voice came from the hall. “What a surprise to see you. You are all grown up.” I was so taken aback by the unexpected affection in her tone that the words themselves were lost on me.

“It is so nice to see you again, Paulina. I hope you have been well.”

That voice.

I would recognize it anywhere. The last time I heard it in person, it was breaking my heart, but I still heard it every night in my dreams, whispering soft words to me in the dark.

I’ll be good to you.

I’ll take care of your heart.

Lies, they had been lies. But the worst part was that I couldn’t fault him for them. He was right. We had been too swept up in one another. He had been deflecting his addictive habits onto me, and to get better, he needed to do it on his own. I knew this. I knew it, but it didn’t make it hurt any less.

I took a few deep breaths, trying to center myself. The sound of his footsteps coming closer kicked my already erratically beating heart into overdrive. His mother was standing again, this time accompanied by Laurel’s father, and she moved quickly to the doorway with more emotion than I’d ever seen on her face.

“Anders.” His name came from her lips in a soft cry.

“Good to see you, son.” Mr. Mitchell said in his usual gruff tone.

I imagined him holding his hand out to Anders to shake in the formal way he seemed to greet everyone, even family, but I refused to turn around to confirm it. A long, thin mirror ran above the buffet table, barely large enough to be useful, but I caught the reflection of Laurel embracing her brother in it. The back of her head blocked his face from view. I wanted her to move so I could see him as badly as I wanted her to prolong the hug so I didn't have to. But she pulled back a moment later, and the sight of his face was enough to shatter what little resolve I had left.

I snapped my head around, finally allowing myself to take him in.

He looked good.

So fucking good.

His hair was cut back into the style it had been in when we first met, a tight, neat fade on the sides and slightly unruly ringlets on top. They were shorter now and no longer fell into his eyes, but my fingers twitched, regardless, with the need to run them through it. Paulina helped him out of a camel-colored coat, revealing a navy suit sweater over a white collared shirt. The sleeves were cuffed at his elbows, the sweater’s cut accentuating his trim waist. He turned to thank her, blessing me with the sight of his perfect ass in a pair of khakis that were so form-fitting they should have been illegal.

“You might actually be drooling,” Laurel whispered in my ear, her return startling me. I quickly schooled my features. “Only slightly better.” She added before pulling away.

Anders, finally unable to ignore my presence in the room any longer, turned to me and headed my way. I held up my arms to embrace him, but his hand was already out before him, making it clear it was only a shake he would allow me to have. His palm hit mine, and it was like every feeling I’d spent the last four months pushing as deep down as they could possibly go, came barreling to the surface.

“Beckham.” It sounded short and unnecessarily formal for two people who knew each other as intimately as we did. “Good to see you again.”

Before I could respond, he let go of my hand and moved around the table across from me. He pulled out his mother’s chair, pushing it back in as she sat before taking his seat across from me. Paulina rushed to replace the setting she had only just removed. His gaze lingered on me for a fraction of a second as I took my seat, but he flicked his attention back toward his parents.