Page 45 of Dirty Ginger

Sullivan snorted. “Hate to break it to you, brother, but you’re not going to that funeral alone.”

Beckett knew he should thank him, but he simply looked toward the trees, the empty fields, the empty barn, where once there was so much life. “The funeral is tomorrow.”

“You arranged all that, then?” Hayes asked.

Beckett nodded. “It’s simple. It’ll be at the cemetery. Nine o’clock.”

“We’ll all be there,” Sullivan said.

Amelia will be there; he didn’t say it, but he implied. Beckett knew nothing he could say would stop that, so he gave a small nod.

Silence settled in, but it wasn’t comfortable. Beckett knew what was coming long before Hayes said, “She’s hurting as much as you are right now.”

“I know she’s hurting,” Beckett replied. “You don’t need to tell me that.”

Hayes leaned against the railing, arms crossed, voice firm. “If you know, then why you aren’t doing something about it?”

Beckett sank his head back against house, his bones aching with the tiredness seeping through him. “It will always touch her.”

“What will?” Hayes asked.

“The pain. The goddamn curse on my head. The misery that’s following me.”

“Beckett,” Hayes said, slowly. “Bad shit happens. You know that, I know that.” Yeah, Hayes did know that well—his first wife, who had been Maisie’s best friend, had been murdered. Hayes understood deep loss. “But good things can come from the bad experiences too.”

“When?” Beckett asked, the same question he’d been asking for his whole damn life. “When do the good things come, Hayes?” It occurred to him suddenly what was grating on him. Maybe somewhere in his messed-up head he thought his father would come around and see the light, but now that would never happen. All there was in his past was pain. “It doesn’t matter what happens, this shit comes back. Time and time again.” He ran his hands over his face, feeling his muscles quivering. “I kept thinking that all this time all I needed was to get her back. To be better for her. To do better. But I can’t outrun the truth that when I heard my father died, all I felt was weak and broken.”

Sullivan’s chair creaked when he leaned forward to cup Beckett’s shoulder. “That’s expected. Fuck man, anyone would feel like that.”

“I can’t even look her in the eye right now,” Beckett said. “I made a promise I wouldn’t hurt her that way again, I won’t break that promise. I just need to get past this.”

“You’re going to lose her before you get past this, Beckett,” Hayes shot back. “Do you fucking hear yourself? You finally have her back. Keep her. You need to let her in.”

Beckett hated how pathetic he sounded when he said, “I can’t risk fucking this up again. I need to get my head on straight, and it’s all the fucking way crooked right now. I can’t let her see me like this again.”

One second he was sitting in his seat, the next, Hayes had him up against the wall, his fists tight in his shirt. “Wake the fuck up, Beckett,” Hayes roared, spittle forming in the crease of his mouth. “I refuse to let your fucking father destroy you. That’s the last deep cut he’s leaving, and I won’t stand by and watch you walk away from your chance of being happy.”

“Let me go,” Beckett said, slowly, carefully, the back of his head throbbing from hitting the wall.

Hayes’ glare only intensified. “Your grandfather would be so fucking ashamed of you right now. So furious that you’re letting the disease your father spread across your life affect you like it is now.”

Sullivan sighed. “Guys, sit down. Both of you.”

Hayes ignored him, his neck corded. “Maisie’s pregnant, and we’ve just learned today Clara is pregnant too. How do you think that made Amelia feel when she learned the news?”

Needing space, feeling the air thicken around him, Beckett shoved Hayes away and moved to the railing on the porch, gripping the wood tight beneath his hands. “I know exactly how it made her feel. Like her chance of having children was slipping away from her. Because I’m pushing her away. Again. I fucking know.”

To calm down, he let out a long slow breath, nearly congratulating them, but Sullivan cupped his shoulder and said, “It’s time for you and Amelia to get married, have some kids, live a goddamn happy life.”

“It’s not that simple,” Beckett said.

Hayes growled from behind him. “Why is it not that simple?”

“Because I’m not you,” Beckett snapped in return. To Sullivan, he said, “Or you. I’m not fucking good at this. I’ve never been good at this. I don’t know how to do happy. I thought if something bad ever happened again, I would know exactly how to handle it. But I don’t. Happiness never fucking lasts.”

Hayes jabbed a finger at him. “Guess what, Amelia doesn’t want me or Sullivan, she wants you. Not the perfect you. Not the man holding back to take every step just right. She wants the man she fell in love with. All the good bits and the broken and the weak.”

Sullivan gave a slow nod. “That’s the good stuff, man. When they see all of you but want you anyway.”

Beckett glanced away, feeling each word, albeit each forceful word from Hayes, and the gentler ones from Sullivan. These men were his brothers, and his head suddenly began to clear as each word cemented. He glanced over his shoulder at Sullivan and then to Hayes. “Why would she want a part of this?” He tapped the side of his head.

Hayes expression softened, as he stepped into cup Beckett’s shoulder. “She’s wanted you from the day she met you. I saw back then, and I see it now.”

Beckett felt something break inside him, but it didn’t cripple him, it opened a doorway to another way forward. “I’m going to lose her?”

Hayes gave a firm nod. “You’re going to lose her if you keep her out of your life again, so what are you going to do about that?”

Beckett glanced out at the farm again, the land of his grandfather. “I best figure that out before she’s gone forever.”

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