Page 127 of The Lost Book of First Loves

“Don’t be silly,” Loretta said, her tone brisk. “If he didn’t want anyone else to read it, he should have destroyed it before he died. Stories are meant to be shared. Your father knew that. A good story becomes part of you, whispering truths and stirring emotions long after the final page is turned.”

What emotions would June discover in the pages ofThe Forgotten Road?

She still wasn’t sure she wanted to find out.

Chapter 43

Beckett

June still appeared pale, her features washed out like bleached pine. While the women continued to speculate about what the pages might contain in this manuscript one of the world’s great writers had kept tucked away, he saw her features grow increasingly fatigued. Finally, he stepped in.

“It’s late and it’s been a long day for all of us. Why don’t I give you a ride back to the cabin?”

She glanced at her watch. “Oh. I hadn’t realized the time. I can walk. It’s not that far.”

“My truck is out front. I insist. Looks like we might be in for a rain shower, and you wouldn’t want the manuscript to get wet.”

It was a ruthless play, since the rain, if it even fell, likely wouldn’t start for hours, but she acquiesced.

“Thank you for dinner,” she said to Loretta. “I had a truly lovely time.”

The older woman smiled warmly and wrapped June in a tight embrace that seemed to further overwhelm her.

“It was totally my pleasure, my dear. I am so happy to have found you. I feel like the luckiest woman in the world, to have been given the priceless gift of a new granddaughter at my age.”

June closed her eyes and returned the embrace, her mouth wobbling a little before she drew away. Somehow, he had the impression June had not received as many hugs as she deserved, especially in recent years.

“We’ll talk soon. When you’ve finished the book, maybe,” Loretta said.

“Definitely.”

“Let me grab the rest of your fruit salad.”

He carried the bowl for her while June carried the box and manuscript. He helped her into his pickup truck and drove to the cabin quickly. Once there, he helped her out then grabbed the fruit bowl to take inside for her, grateful for any chance to extend their time together.

“Are you going to be okay?”

She gave a rough-sounding laugh. “Eventually. It’s so much to take in, but I’ll be fine. Thank you for everything.”

“I haven’t done anything,” he protested.

“Not true. You’ve done more than you know. You believed in me when I thought Carson might have written another manuscript. You helped me look for it.”

She hesitated then offered up that shaky smile. “I have to tell you, earlier tonight when you walked into Loretta’s kitchen right as Ali was telling her about the DNA results, I wanted to fly into your arms and not let go. I felt an indescribable comfort, knowing you were there in the midst of all the chaos. You have been a true friend to me, Beck, and I’m so grateful.”

What would she say if he told her he wanted to be far more than friends with her?

“You can use my arms any time you want,” he said.

She gave a shaky laugh. “Be careful when you make offers like that or you might have distraught women running to you at all hours of the day and night.”

He wouldn’t mind, as long as she was the distraught woman in question, though he would rather she wanted to run into his arms for other reasons.

He was falling for Juniper Connelly.

It was a realization that should have shocked him but somehow it only seemed inevitable.

“I’m here now,” he said, holding his arms open.

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