Page 81 of Redemption

Theo smiles. “To be fair, Presley, you haven’t been around. I’ve known Clayton most of my adult life, and whatever’s been goin’ on with those two isn’t going to resolve itself just because they keep trying to ignore it. In fact, I’d go as far as to say it’s probably makin’ it worse.”

Damn, could I have really been that clueless about my own brother? Theo’s right, though. I haven’t been around. Maybe if I did a better job keeping in touch while I was in New York, Clayton would’ve confided in me, but I doubt Sebastian would’ve allowed that. It’s just one of the many things I wish I could change, but I can’t. When my brother comes back out front, he implores me with his eyes to drop the subject. I decide to honor his wishes for tonight, but I’m definitely going to start being a better sister and paying attention going forward.

Chapter Forty-Two

Presley

I’m roasting.

I squirm away from Beckett’s heavy arm, trying to put some distance between us, but I only have a full-sized bed in my new place, so there’s not a whole lot of room left. The sheets are soaked. Beck’s bronzed skin is shiny with sweat as he writhes and thrashes in his sleep. Obviously, he’s having one helluva nightmare, but I’m not sure what the proper protocol is in a situation like this.

“Beck, honey, wake up. You’re having a bad dream.”

He still doesn’t shake out of it, so I reach across the mattress and place my hand on his shoulder.

The moment I touch him, Beck’s eyes snap open, and a guttural sound emanates from his chest as his arms fly toward me. He maneuvers our bodies until my back is pinned to the mattress. I squirm beneath him as his hands wrap around my throat and immediately start squeezing.

“Beckett.” I gasp for air as his fingers tighten. “Please... can’t... breathe.”

His eyes are wide open, but they’re vacant. He stares down at me like he’s trying to eliminate a threat. Like I am that threat. My fingernails claw at his forearms as my vision goes blurry. His muscles are bunched as he squeezes even tighter, an angry vein popping out on the middle of his forehead. Ironically, I’m perfectly calm, but I know I need to somehow get through to him before losing the chance.

“Ple—” I sputter, trying to wake him before I lose consciousness.

The fight is draining from my body. My airway is constricted, and I’m not getting enough oxygen. As my lids begin to flutter, I can see the fog slowly lifting from his eyes. He’s finally coming back from whatever horrible place his mind was trapped in. The second he realizes what he’s doing, he releases me and jumps back, stumbling off the too-small mattress onto the floor.

“Fuck.” His eyes run the length of my body, likely checking for damage.

I sit up, resisting the urge to rub my aching neck. “Beck, it’s okay. I’m fine.”

His brown eyes widen. “Are you fucking kidding me, Presley?! That’s bullshit! I could’ve just killed you!” He stands up, pacing the length of the bed. He must’ve gotten up at some point in the night and put his boxers on because he wasn’t wearing them when we went to sleep. “Fuck!” He pulls on the ends of his thick hair.

“Really, Beck, I’m—”

He points a finger at me. “Don’t you dare fucking say you’re okay. It’s not okay, Pres! Me putting my hands on you in violence would never fucking be okay!”

“Beck, you were sleeping.” I clear my throat, trying to smooth the grit out of it. “You were having a nightmare. You didn’t know it was me. I know you would never hurt me on purpose. I trust you.”

“That doesn’t matter, goddammit. What if I didn’t wake up in time, Pres? What would’ve happened then? You shouldn’t fucking trust me! I don’t fucking trust myself! Christ. You must be scared shitless right now.”

My throat is aching, and yeah, for a moment, I was shocked, but I’ve no doubt that what just happened was the result of a horrible nightmare, maybe even a flashback. Being afraid never crossed my mind because I know Beckett Armstrong wouldn’t hesitate to lay down his life for me.

I crawl out of bed and grab my robe off the hook on the back of my bedroom door. As I’m pulling it over my shoulders, I say, “I’m not afraid, Beckett. I know you didn’t mean to do it. And you woke up in time. You didn’t hurt me. I’m fine.”

I don’t think this is a good time to remind him I’ve been through much worse.

Beckett scrubs a hand down his face. “But I could have. I could have done so much worse than hurt you, Presley.”

Beck looks wary as I approach him, but he remains still. “I love you.” When only a few inches of space exist between us, I cup his jaw in my hands and lift up on my toes. “You love me. You would never hurt me. If something like that ever happens again, I know you would wake up in time. I’m not afraid of you, Beck.” I kiss the corner of his mouth. “You’re my safe haven. I could never be afraid of you.”

I hold his eyes as I lower myself to the ground. “I would never be afraid of you, Beckett.”

“Pres, what are you doing?” He tries to bat my hand away as I tug on the waistband of his boxers.

I give him a cheeky grin. “I know it’s been a while since we’ve done this, but I think it’s pretty self-explanatory.”

He shakes his head. “Pres, you don’t—”

While Beck’s gone down on me dozens of times since I’ve been back, I’ve yet to return the favor. I used to love doing this to him, but like many things, Sebastian ruined the act for me. But right now, I can’t think of any better way to prove to Beckett how safe and secure he makes me feel. I want to do this for him, but I also want to prove to myself that my almost-ex-husband is no longer in control. I refuse to give Sebastian that kind of power anymore.

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