Page 44 of Beck

Time ran away, but it seemed less than a few minutes when Ethan came to see him.

“How are you doing?”

Kole sighed and closed his sketching pad, holding it close to his chest. “I don’t really know.” He coughed, his voice rough from not being used for long and the rough treatment it had received. “I can’t say I’m surprised by Beck’s news.”

“Me neither.” Ethan settled onto the stool that had come with the room, spinning it side to side almost subconsciously. “I had hoped I was wrong. Bloody hell, though. He has balls of steel to walk straight into the police station and offer up that info.”

Kole stared at him. “What?”

Ethan paused his spinning and cocked his head. “Beck waited until this morning, then walked into the police station to give a statement against Drake.”

Kole’s chest ached, the band that had already been constricting his lungs tightening further. “Why?”

Ethan rolled his eyes. “Beck said why, but even I can figure out the answer to that without asking. To protect you. And others. I dread to think how many people Drake had got to over the years.”

“But it’s going to cause so many problems for him. For you.”

“The only problem it will cause is giving us more advertising. There is no bad advertising, remember?”

Kole shook his head. “This is different. This is Beck’s life.”

Ethan sighed. “We have no choice in this, Kole. It was Beck’s decision to make, and he made it. We have nothing to say about it, and neither should we. He’s the bravest son of a bitch in the world in my books.”

“And in mine,” Kole whispered, turning his head to stare out of the window. “I just wish he hadn’t had to go through it all—in the first place, and now, all over again.”

“Same.” Ethan sighed. “Come on. Let’s get you home.”

Kole didn’t argue, and before he knew it, he was back at the scene of the crime, crossing the threshold into his newly repaired apartment. Surprisingly, he had no issues with being there. Ethan had been with him when he entered, but Kole held no bad feelings towards the place. The landlord, however, was another matter.

“We’ve had new locks put on, and the landlord has agreed to not have keys for the moment. He might change his mind, but for now, he doesn’t want us to cause problems, so he’s willing to forget that he doesn’t have them.”

“Good job, too. I’d hate to have to apartment hunt because he’s an asshole.” Kole settled onto the sofa and rested his head back. “Go on. Head back home. I’ll be fine.”

“You sure?”

“Definitely.”

“Ring me straight away if you have any problems.”

Kole smiled. “Yes, Mum.” He reached for the remote.

Ethan put his middle finger up at him and closed the door behind him as he left. When silence descended, Kole took a breath. And another. And another. There, in his apartment, behind locked doors, he could let all his feelings out, but what he found was that anger was the most prevalent. How dare Drake hurt Beck? How dare he take that innocence from him?

A crack sounded, and he glanced at the remote in his hand. The remote that now had a lovely crack down the middle of it.He put it down and stood, shuffling to the bedroom. As much as he didn’t want to, he needed sleep. Unafraid of nightmares relating to his ordeal, he was more worried about nightmares about Beck’s because he wasn’t sure he could stand watching even hypothetical images of what happened to him. But then, Beck had been through it. The least Kole could do was weather the imagery.

Four hours later, he rethought his idea. Having woken from nightmares five times already, he wasn’t sure he could withstand much more, so he climbed from the sweat-soaked bed, stripped the sheets and shoved them in the washing machine before making himself a hot chocolate. Caffeine was not a good idea, and though chocolate held some, it wasn’t enough to bother him. Maybe the heat of it would help him sleep again but on the sofa that time.

Putting the drink on the coffee table, he picked up the cracked remote and aimed it at the TV, hoping it wasn’t broken enough not to work. Luck was on his side—for once—and he chose a black and white film he had no idea the title of, wrapped a blanket around his shoulders and another over his legs, and cradled the mug in his hands.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d stared at the screen before a beeping drew his attention. It stopped almost as soon as he heard it and then started again. Putting his empty mug on the coffee table, having no idea when he’d drunk it, he wandered into his bedroom and unplugged his phone. He checked the screen to find several messages.

BECK: I hope you can forgive me.

BECK: I may have had a little too much to drink.

BECK: Ignore me.

BECK: You don’t need to forgive me.

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