Page 2 of Remade

He smiled carefully and kissed my nose. “What you and I do is up to us and nobody else, you hear me?”

I nodded jerkily, drawing a ragged breath. I must look like a lunatic, but fuck me, I needed to hear that. I wasn’t ready to let him go. I wasn’t sure I ever would be.

“Do you wanna stop?” he asked.

I shook my head. “No. That’s the last thing I want.”

He smiled a little again. “Good. Same here.” He hauled me in for another hug, and I squeezed him back, letting the relief pour over me for a moment. The day he decided he’d had enough would come soon enough as it was. “When we get back to Hillcroft, I’mma tear you a new one for worrying me half to death today.”

“I’m sorry,” I croaked.

“Uh-uh. Not enough.” He pressed kisses to my hair and squeezed me even tighter, to the point where it started to hurt to have the Kevlar between us. “We were in the middle of raiding their safehouse when we discovered a second crew involved. And I swear, not ten minutes later, we got the call that a bomb detonated outside Hillcroft.”

Ugh. I just wanted to forget it now. The whole day had been a blur, starting with the horrific sight of Coach throwing that duffel bag right before it exploded.

In the moment, I hadn’t been able to process it.

Beckett let out a breath and inched back far enough to look at me. He brushed his thumbs under my eyes, across some cuts and scrapes along my cheek, and I sniffled for the millionth time.

“So, I hear your uncle’s here.”

Oh God.

“Like I said,” he went on, “we have three hours of daylight, and we can’t do anything until it’s dark.”

And…?

“We’re doing this now,” he said patiently but firmly. “I’ll go get Ryan, and we’ll?—”

“No! Are you c-crazy?” I blurted out. “What I need is to get my shit together so I can pull my weight. The last thing we have time for now is some family drama that makes me weep like a baby.”

He smiled ruefully and narrowed his eyes. “It’s a weep-worthy situation. You’ll have three hours to cry it out. You can shake your head all you want, but I don’t think for a second you can pull it together with him around.”

But what would I even say? I could barely string two thoughts together, much less speak coherently.

The idea of Ryan coming over here put so much pressure on my chest that the coward within me took the wheel. I wanted to grab on to the nearest excuse and fuck off.

“You’re ready, Leighton,” he murmured. “I know you’re scared—and I know why. But you seem to have forgotten one thing.”

I sniffled and glanced at him before wiping at my cheeks again.

He cupped the back of my neck and smiled sympathetically. “You can still get to know your dad. Through them. Through their stories and memories. Their photo albums. They knew him—and they can fill in so many blanks for you that you’ll feel your old man standing right next to you.”

Jesus Christ, that one punched me right in the gut.

My bottom lip quivered and I was downright terrified, but I wanted it. I wanted to see him clearly in my mind. I wanted to know his voice. I wanted to know his opinions, what’d made him laugh, and what music he’d listened to. God, I wanted it with every fiber of my being.

“You wait here, okay?” Beckett put the helmet on me once more and lifted my chin. “If the best time to do something was earlier, when is the second-best time?”

“Now,” I choked out. And I nodded once. Twice. Okay. This was happening.

“Attaboy.” He ducked down and pressed a firm kiss to my cheek. “I’ll be right back. You don’t have to talk if you don’t want. I can do it until you’re ready.”

“Okay, yeah—” I definitely nodded now, ’cause yeah, words weren’t gonna happen. Not so Ryan could understand me.

Beckett walked off, and I blew out an unsteady breath and tried to move around a little. Roll my shoulders, shake my legs a bit, hopefully get rid of the prickling sensations in my fingers and arms.

I’ll never meet you, Dad. But I wanna know the man you were.

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