Page 64 of Spicy Ever After
I frown. That’s not what I meant. “No… I’ll be quiet. You talk.”
His chuckle is my favorite. “You want me to talk?”
I don’t bother opening my eyes. I just nod.
“As you wish,” he says, and I immediately remember our first meeting. When I called him Farm Boy like Buttercup in The Princess Bride. A little shiver tickles my back.
I hear him draw in a long inhale. “Well, first, thank you. For agreeing to this… what did you call it? Hell-Yes-It’s-a-Real-Date-Coffee-Date?”
I smile, and, thank goodness, he doesn’t require more of a response before continuing.
“Knowing I was seeing you again is what kept me going this week,” he says, sounding a little tired himself.
Keeping my eyes closed, I croak, “Why?”
Beck sighs. “I don’t think I’ve mentioned that my dad’s sick, have I?”
I frown. It takes me a second to form the thought. “Like COVID?”
“Um… no.” He takes his own time responding. I don’t mind. Maybe he’s just as tired as I am. He’s a farmer, after all. His job has to be physically exhausting. Plus, he ran across the park for me.
“Like… Parkinson’s.”
My eyes fly open. “What did you say?” But I’m pretty sure I heard him. And when I see the bleak look on his face, I know I did.
“My dad has Parkinson’s.”
I squeeze his hand before really even thinking about it. “Beck…”
I don’t know a lot about Parkinson’s, other than that it’s degenerative and a lot of older people have it. But I do know Beck has already lost his mom, and if his dad is sick with a degenerative disease, then his life is probably really hard.
“Yeah.” His eyes soften, and I think he must be reading my face. “It sucks.”
“Did you just find out?”
Confusion narrows his brows. “No. He’s had it for a few years. Why?”
I blink. “You said knowing you were seeing me again kept you going this week. I figured?—”
“Oh. No.” He shakes his head. “He’s just—” Beck’s forehead wrinkles with a new expression. Like he doesn’t know how to explain this to me, but that it isn’t going to be something good.
“He’s difficult,” he says finally. “He loses his balance and falls a lot, but he doesn’t want to use his walker. He’s angry. He doesn’t want help, but he still needs it.”
I huff. “That last part sounds like me.” I blurt the words, and the surprise on his face has me regretting them immediately.
“What? No way.” He shakes his head. “I wouldn’t describe you as angry. Besides, you don’t push me away. You let me in.”
“I want you in,” I blurt again. And then I blush when he cracks a smile.
But I cover my face with my free hand. “Closing my eyes again. Keep talking.”
Beck chuckles and his hand closes around mine, and before I know it, his lips are on my knuckles.
Wow. No one’s ever kissed my hand before. It’s nicer than I thought it would be.
My blush grows hotter.
“Anyway, he’s had a bad week. And Griff and I spent almost all day yesterday mounting handrails around the house and building a ramp off the front porch so he doesn’t have to struggle with the steps.” I hear Beck scoff lightly. “I didn’t expect him to thank us or anything. But I also wasn’t exactly prepared for him to curse us out for messing up Mom’s house before hobbling to his room and slamming the door.”
