Page 118 of Fallen Hearts

“I know so. Papa Bennett told me.”

My eyes narrowed. “What d’ya mean?”

“One of the nights he was in the bar. Asked if you were dating anyone. I said not really. He said he hoped you found someone to marry someday. Despite the fact.” Beck chuckled on that last bit.

“He said that?”

“Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” I asked, incredulous. “We talked about this.”

“Yeah,” he said again in typical Beck fashion. “I know.”

I crossed my arms. Ones that were getting colder by the minute, but ignoring that, I put all of my energy into staring down Beck. “I know? That’s it?”

He shrugged. “Didn’t want to let that influence your decision. You needed to decide on your own.”

“Are you serious right now? I specifically asked what you thought he’d say.”

“And I gave you a straight answer. He wouldn’t have been like, ‘You know, Mason. I’ve always wanted you to get married. So you should leave the police force, move back, and marry Pia.’ Who wasn’t even your girlfriend at the time.”

“He’d have me marry, despite what happened to Mom.”

Beck frowned. “Of course. You think he’d rather you shack up with your bachelor friends like it was college all over again for the rest of your life? Speaking of?—”

“You guys can stay,” I said, cutting him off.

“Because we’re still renovating.”

“No. Because I want you to. And so does Pia. For some reason, she’s fond of both of you.”

“Smart girl.” Beck clasped me on the shoulder. “Then again, she has agreed to marryyou.”

“Funny.”

“Speak of the devil.”

As if we’d summoned her, Pia appeared on the wraparound deck, coffee in hand. She wore a thick cream sweater, her hair piled on top of her head in a messy bun.

In short, she was perfect.

“Come on,” I said, beginning to walk.

“You go ahead.”

I couldn’t help holding back. Beck’s voice was unusually quiet, almost somber.

“I’m fine. Just gonna hang here for a few minutes.”

To say Beck and quiet contemplation weren’t athingwould be an understatement.

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

Beck’s favorite word. I waited a second or two, giving him a chance to elaborate. But he didn’t. So I left that dock, left behind the vision of my father mourning his beloved, replacing it with a man content, still believing in love.

As I approached, Pia peered at me from above the mug. In a few days, we’d be flying to the west coast, leaving Heritage Hill in the maybe-capable hands of my two friends to celebrate our engagement with Pia’s family for a few days.

---