Page 37 of Beckon

“You’re too good to be true, you know that?”

He most certainly wasn’t. If she knew the questions on a loop in his head, she wouldn’t dare say that.

“It’s not me who’s too good to be true, I’m just an emotionally unstable asshole who got lucky when my friend ordered me a ride. If anyone is too good to be true, it’s you, Bandit. You stole my heart, and I didn’t see it coming.”

He paused when he realized that was a soft declaration.

“Good night, Tami.”

“Good night, Chandler.”

They said good night, but not goodbye and soon the sounds of her sleeping lulled him there himself. That night he dreamed of the past. The past before Tami, and before the Army. He dreamed of classic movies and carefree days playing in the yard. He dreamed of the days when he was Chester’s age, and he didn’t have a care in the whole wide world.

That didn’t last. Instead, he ended up back in that hovel, but instead of that little girl screaming, it was Chester, and Tami was holding him back, watching in horror as he killed a man. A man he knew was Reese. It was exactly how it had happened overseas, but the faces were different.

He woke on a startled gasp when he heard his name.

His arm shot out toward the sound of the voice. The phone slid off the pillow and across the room. By the time he had his bearings, he was mortified. His hands shook and he stared in horror at them.

What if that had been her and not the damn phone?

12

TAMITHA

The strangled crythat woke Chandler earlier that day had broken her heart. She’d been awake for a while but muted the call so he could sleep. It was weird that she wanted to be there with him in some capacity, even though all she could see was the ceiling and barely at that. They found a way, voice or video, to fall asleep with each other almost every night since their second date.

What had started as an accident—she fell asleep midsentence one night—had become kind of their thing and she missed it on nights it didn’t happen.

It wasn’t new for him to wake with a start and sometimes disoriented. Those incidents had lessened with his meetings and therapy. That was the first time he’d flung the phone across the room. She wasn’t sure what had actually happened, but judging by the bouncing of the bed, he woke actively.

It had immediately brought back thoughts of the first night they’d met. The night she’d put him to bed, and he succumbed to a rather violent nightmare.

After many heart-to-heart talks, Chandler finally opened up to her. She knew his bad nights were about his friend Wilson and the day he died. A day he wore around his neck like a yoke of guilt. That yoke had been shrinking though. With him getting help and hanging out with Tate more. He also smiled more.

That was the biggest thing she’d noticed.

He still talked in his sleep, just less often but that morning had scared her. It was as if he woke up fighting. Fighting a ghost of the past. One he couldn’t beat with his fists.

A sliver of fear crept up her spine. What if he stayed the night and did that?

“What if we get married and Chester crawls into bed with us the way he does sometimes with me?”

She huffed out a breath. “No worries, Tami. You’re getting ahead of yourself now. He hasn’t even said he loves you and you’re worried about marriage.”

Besides, he was getting help. By the time they would spend the night together he would have things under control. That would be a must.

Until then… a wicked picture entered her mind. One of Chandler with his underwear model abs, stroking his cock until he came all over her stomach instead of his own.

“We can definitely explore that without a sleepover.”

An expected knock at the door pulled her from her less than innocent thoughts.

“I’ll get it, Mom,” Chester yelled as a blur ran past her. Luckily, she caught said blur before it made it all the way to the front door.

“What’s the rule, Mister Man?”

“I know the rule, Mom, but it’s Chandler, it’s my buddy, I know it is.”

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