Saving Beck Page 19

  “I understand,” Angel told me softly. “I do.”

  “I fucked everything up,” I practically whimpered.

  Angel held me tight, pulling me onto her lap, and she stroked my hair and sang.

  It was a tune I’d heard before, but never the words until now.

  Day is gone. Gone the sun. From the lakes, from the hills, from the sky.

  All is well, safely rest, God is nigh.

  “Isn’t that taps?” I asked finally, and my eyes were wet. I didn’t look up.

  “My mom used to sing it to me when I couldn’t sleep. It was the only lullaby she knew,” Angel said defensively.

  “I’m not attacking your mother,” I told her.

  “I know.”

  “Why did your mother send you away?” I asked, because Angel’s song was so sad, and her voice was so broken. “She must’ve loved you.”

  She shrugged and held me tight, her fingers afraid to let go of me.

  “She said I was better off going back to foster care. That she couldn’t afford to live on her own, and her boyfriend hated me. She said she wanted me to have a shot at life, and she couldn’t give that to me.”

  “I’m sorry.” I patted her back with my free hand. It was a mindless motion and it didn’t help, but I tried. “How long were you in foster care?”

  “Awhile,” she answered. “The state thought I was better taken care of there. I lost my virginity to a foster father. I don’t have a sweet story like yours and Elin’s.”

  Her voice was bitter now and she was so hurt and she was so used.

  I wanted to pick her up and shield her from the world.

  I told her that.

  She laughed, a hard sound. “Too late, King,” she said.

  “It’s never too late,” I argued.

  She was thoughtful now.

  “So why did you leave your home?” she asked. “If it’s never too late, maybe you should go back.”

  “It’s complicated,” I answered. “I can’t go back.”

  “But why? Your mom is a good mom, right?”

  I paused. “Yeah. She is. But she’s got her own shit going on. There’s a lot to deal with, you know. When someone dies.”

  “Yeah, I bet,” she answered. “But she probably misses you.”

  I shrugged. “It’s hard to say.”

  The silence swallowed us up, and we wallowed in it, stretching our legs and swimming in it.

  “I was thinking that when this is done,” and she gestured toward my Crown Royal bag that held our stash, “we should give it up.”

  That hit me in the face and I stared at her.

  “Give it up?”

  The idea was ludicrous, because without H, I’d feel everything. I wouldn’t be able to escape and there was nothing I wanted less than to do that. But Angel was nodding and she was serious.

  “I think we should,” she said finally. “Look what it did to my mother. She gave up her own kid. You left a good life behind. For what? For this?” She swept her arm around, gesturing to the rickety walls of the warehouse. “We’ve got to make good on ourselves, King.”

  I eyed her.

  “What’s your real name?” I asked, trying to change the subject. She scowled.

  “Don’t do that. This is serious.”

  “So is your name,” I answered.

  “My name is Angel now,” she answered. “And I want us to get clean. We’ll have to do it together so we can help each other. We’ll get each other through it, King.”

  I stared at her hard, and she was so solemn, so determined.

  “You can’t be serious,” I said, and I was shaky just thinking about it.

  “I am,” she said, nodding. “You don’t know it because you haven’t seen it, but when I’m sober, I can do anything, King. We could get a little house and be roommates. Winston can have his own little bed. You can go to college and I’ll get a GED, and we’ll have a life, King. A real life.”

  I thought on that for a second.

  A real life.

  I studied the track marks in my arm, and I knew what I’d have to give up.

  “I don’t know if I can,” I said truthfully. “I don’t know if I’m strong enough.”

  “Of course you are,” Angel said firmly. “You just don’t know that right now. But I do, King.”

  “My name isn’t really King,” I told her. She smiled and in this moment, she was pretty, even with her jagged extra-short hair.

  “I know,” she answered. “I’m not stupid. But you’re my King, and I like it that way.”

  “Do you want to know my real name?” I gave her the choice, but she squeezed my hand.

  “No. That was then, and this is now. You’re King and I’m Angel.”

  She fell asleep, so I was left awake alone.

  I held her tight because she was all I had, and her breathing was soft and quick. It was still chilly enough in here to see her breaths in the air, but I kept her warm with my body.

  She was Angel and I was King.

  I thought about that.

  Then I thought about a time when I was still Beck.

  I was another person, with the world on a string, and all the promises it had to offer sat on my lap.

  Potential was a shiny thing and I’d been full of it then, so much so that I couldn’t see past the bright promises.

  But with those promises came curses. If I hadn’t gone to Notre Dame that day, if we’d chosen an earlier tour, then it wouldn’t have been so late when we drove home. If Elin hadn’t called, and if I hadn’t answered. My dad wouldn’t be dead.

  My life would still be shiny and bright.

  I would still be at home and my mom would be making me banana pancakes on Saturdays.

  I was sure she was still making them now for Dev and Annabelle. Thoughts of them hurt my heart and I missed them. I hadn’t allowed that for weeks and weeks, but it was true.

  I missed them.

  Looking down at Angel’s face, I wondered what they’d think of her.

  But I already knew.

  They’d take one look and know she’s an addict too, and I’d be just another disappointment. One of many.

  No matter how much I missed my life, that was then. This was now.

  Angel stirred and moaned a little, and I soothed her quietly, my hand on her shoulder.

  “Shhh,” I said into her ear. “It’s going to be all right.”

  “King, promise me we’ll quit,” she said, half-asleep. “Promise me.”

  I didn’t want to. I wanted to. I didn’t want to.

  “Okay,” I finally said. “Okay.”

  She smiled and her lips were curved and pink in the night. She was happy now, I realized with a start.

  “Sing to me,” she said. “Make me feel safe.”

  I sang her mother’s lullaby and she closed her eyes to sleep.

  thirty-five

  NATALIE

  MERCY HOSPITAL

  9:33 P.M.

  “JESUS, NAT, YOU SCARED THE shit out of me.” Sam flutters about like a bird, trying to get me into a chair and hand me water and give me an aspirin all at once.

  “Calm down,” Kit tells her, and he is calm like he’s always calm. Sam glances up at him, annoyed with his calmness. “It was a panic attack. It wasn’t her first one. And she’s going to be fine.”

  “It wasn’t your first one?” Sam practically screeches now, and Elin flinches.

  “It doesn’t matter,” I tell her tiredly. “Not now. Beck is all that matters.”

  I look at my son, and Sam hushes because she knows. She knows that is true.

  She sits down in an extra chair in the corner and she’s still flustered. But she’s silent now. For a minute.

  “I just wish you’d have told me,” she blurts out a few minutes later. “I could’ve helped. Damn it, Nat. You didn’t have to suffer through it alone.”

  She’s offended but she’s wrong.

  I hadn’t been alone.

  I tell her that, a
nd her eyes widen, and she looks at Kit.

  Her mouth forms an O as she gets it, as the pieces finally click into place for her.

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah. Oh.” My shoulders slump and I’m not proud. But it happened and I can’t change that. I don’t know if I want to. I don’t know if I don’t want to. I don’t know anything anymore.

  * * *

  I WAS WASHING DISHES when my phone rang. I wiped them off on a towel, expecting it to be Sam, since the kids were on their way over to go camping for the weekend. Beck was driving them over at this very moment.

  But the name on the phone wasn’t hers.

  It was my lawyer.

  I answered hesitantly.

  “Natalie, they want to settle,” Ed said, and I could tell from his voice he was happy about this.

  “Really?” This could all be over? The stress? The waiting?

  “They’re offering you twenty-one million.”

  I paused, and my hand clenched on the phone.

  “Twenty-one million dollars.” It seemed surreal.

  “They took into consideration the lost salary that Matt would’ve made over the course of his lifetime, and added a cushion for your emotional suffering. And for Beck’s.”

  “What about the seat belt?” I asked, because that was the important thing. “Are they going to recall their cars to fix it?”

  Ed is silent.

  “They feel it was an isolated case, and one of likely user error,” he answered finally.

  “They’re saying it was Matt’s fault.”

  My stomach dropped into my shoes, because it wasn’t. I knew that. Matt was meticulous about safety.

  “That doesn’t matter, Natalie,” Ed said fervently. “That’s their official stance on it. But obviously, they know it’s not true or they wouldn’t be settling. The important thing is that you and the kids will be taken care of. Their college tuitions, your retirement, everything. You won’t have to worry.”

  “But it could happen to someone else,” I said limply. “Someone else could have their whole life torn apart just like me.”

  Ed was silent again, unsure of how to handle me.

  I felt the familiar rush of adrenaline swelling up, filling my chest cavity, making my heart pound. Fight or flight, my brain whispered. Fight or flight?

  “I’ve got to go,” I told him numbly. “I’ll think about it.” I hung up before he could say anything.

  The room started to swirl as my breathing got shallower and shallower until I was panting. My hand gripped the granite counter, and the stone was cool under my fingers. But not cool enough to jolt me back into the present.

  I slid to the floor, the panic overtaking me, and I was there for what seemed like forever before I heard a voice calling to me from the front door.

  Kit is here.

  I didn’t know why, but I was so glad.

  He would help. He knew me.

  He found me quickly and his voice was deep.

  I was picked up and my feet were dangling and he was strong. He was solid. He had me.

  He had me.

  I thought I was dying but Kit had me.

  Then I was on something soft and I opened my eyes, and I was lying on top of my bed. Kit was next to me, his eyes troubled.

  “Can you hear me?” he asked, and that seemed silly now. Of course I could.

  “Yes,” I told him. I could breathe now. “Did I pass out?”

  “It seems that way,” he said. “I’ll be right back, okay? Don’t go anywhere.”

  I shook my head because of course I wouldn’t. My legs were jelly, and I’d stay right here.

  It was a little while before he came back, but when he did, he brought the scent of fresh air with him, and he was holding a bottle of water.

  “Take this,” he told me, giving me a pill. “I found it in your purse.”

  It was Xanax—I should’ve been embarrassed, but I wasn’t. I took the pill.

  “What happened?” he asked after I’d drunk it down.

  “I . . . I . . . I’ve got some anxiety,” I said, and he rolled his eyes.

  “I can see that,” he answered drily. “And it’s understandable. But I’m really asking what happened today? What triggered this today?”

  I swallowed hard because the truth of it was impossible to bear.

  “The insurance company wants to settle. It’s a lot of money, but they won’t fix the seat belt problem. They’re saying it was Matt’s fault. But . . . they put a price on him, Kit. They say he’s worth twenty-one million dollars. He was a person. Not a price tag. Twenty-one million dollars doesn’t change the fact that my kids’ father is never coming home, or that my bed is empty at night. Or that I’m so, so alone.”

  I was limp and illogical and totally spent.

  Kit patted my back awkwardly. “You’re not alone, Natalie. You’re never alone.”

  He squeezed my hand, and his eyes were troubled. Tortured, actually.

  “Sam loves you. The kids love you. Vinny loves you.” He paused. “I love you.”

  “I know.” And I knew they all loved me, but it didn’t help the hole in my heart, which was so big, too big.

  There was tension now, though, in the air between us. Some sort of . . . something. The words I love you held such weight. He loved us all. It wasn’t a big thing, but yet, in this moment, it was.

  And in this moment, for some reason, it was what I needed.

  I needed to not be alone. Just for one goddamned minute.

  He started to get up, to move from beside me, and I grabbed his hand. “Stay,” I urged him. “Stay.”

  “Always,” he said evenly.

  He looked at me and I looked at him, and then everything happened at once.

  I reached for him, and he folded me to him against his chest.

  I lifted my face and his lips met mine, and they were not Matt’s, and that was okay. In this moment, that was okay.

  His hands stroked my back and soothed me in a way that no one else’s could. His touch spread fire along my skin, tiny flames that lapped at me, at my nerves and my cells, and he could extinguish them.

  Kit.

  I was breathless and he started to pull away.

  “No,” I told him and I was dizzy. He paused.

  “I don’t want you to do something you’ll regret,” he said quietly.

  “I could never regret you,” I told him, and it was true and he crushed me to him again with a groan, and then everything happened fast.

  So fast.

  I kissed him hard, with need and pent-up frustration. He met my desperation and lifted me up onto him, and I was cradled on his lap, and he was hard against my hips.

  He was hard for me.

  This was Kit.

  I was in wonderment now, wonderment that I wanted this, that I needed this. That this was Kit and me. It was wrong, but it felt right. In this moment, it felt right.

  “Are you sure?” he asked against my lips, and I nodded, unable to speak.

  His hands were in my hair, and my legs lifted, and he slid into me and it was like breathing.

  Easy, normal, familiar, safe.

  He was my safe haven.

  He was strong and he made me strong.

  He slid into me, and his breath was on my neck, and he murmured words that I couldn’t understand because I was in a hazy fog.

  When we finished, we were limp and the room was no longer spinning.

  Reality was back and with it came the guilt.

  How could I have done this?

  There was a sheen of sweat on Kit’s forehead, and he was looking down at me. It was almost like he knew I was starting to spiral.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, his hand on my hip, and that wasn’t right.

  Matt should have been doing that. Not Kit.

  “I don’t know,” I answered honestly.

  “Nat, hey, you’re okay,” he told me.

  But he was lying in the place where Matt used to sleep, where he rested his h
ead, where he came to me every night, without fail.

  He was in Matt’s spot.

  I cleared my throat and tried to figure out something to say, something that wouldn’t hurt Kit. Because I never wanted to hurt Kit.

  I couldn’t think of the words, though. My heart pounded.

  Fight or flight?

  I got up and pulled on a robe. “I need a drink. Do you?”

  “It’s only four in the afternoon,” he said, but then he looked at my face. “I could always use a drink.”

  We went downstairs and I grabbed a bottle of wine, taking it to the living room. I sat in the chair, not the couch. I needed to be alone, without the heat of Kit’s body next to mine. I needed to think clearly. I opened the wine and poured us glasses, filled to the brim.

  “You’ve had a rough day,” Kit said, taking a gulp. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s not your fault,” I told him. “You came to my rescue.”

  And then he’d slept with me.

  My belly tightened. I had slept with someone other than Matt. I was a traitor.

  I took another drink and so did Kit, and then he spoke.

  “Have you ever wondered about roads?” Kit asked, and I was confused by the change of subject.

  “Roads?”

  “Yeah. The roads that lead us to where we’re meant to be. You were on your road with Matt, minding your own business. I had a road too. We all had a path and we were walking on it, and then he died. I thought the world ended, but my path continued and it led me to you, only you were always with me. Always there. Was I always meant to be with you in the end?”

  I was frozen because this wasn’t what I wanted.

  I wanted comfort. I wasn’t ready for this.

  I sat up a little, and the wine in my glass was hit by the sunlight, making it gleam purple, and then there was a voice speaking, only it wasn’t Kit.

  “That’s an excellent question, Mom,” Beck said from the doorway. “Maybe Dad had to die so that you could fuck his best friend.”

  I could feel the blood drain from my face.

  My son is here.

  And the look on Beck’s face . . . He was so angry, so hateful. I’d never seen that expression before, and then he was gone, and I was scrambling to follow him.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked, and he glared at me over his shoulder.

  “You forgot to send Devin’s backpack. I came to get it.”