hand towards the huge dent in my hood. “This isn’t helping anything.”
“I just got carried away.”
I opened the door and got inside, then snapped, “I shouldn’t have come.”
“Wait, Lyssa. I’m sorry. I’ll fix your hood first thing tomorrow.”
“Just forget it.”
I don’t know why I’d gotten so angry with my brother. He was just trying to look out for me and had let his emotions get the best of him. I should’ve accepted his apology, but I was just too worked up. I slammed the car door shut, then sped out of the clubhouse parking lot. By the time I got to my house, my anger at Clay had dissipated; instead, my fear had returned. Once I was inside, I locked all the doors, then turned on every light in the house. Deep down, I knew I was being crazy. Lucas didn’t know where I lived, and it was doubtful he had any idea that I was even in the city limits, but seeing him tonight in that parking lot rattled me, bringing back all those feelings of helplessness I’d tried so hard to overcome. I went into the kitchen and took out a bottle of wine from the fridge. After I poured myself a large glass, I went to my room and changed into my sleep shorts and an oversized hoodie. I’d just crawled on top of my bed when my phone chimed with a text message.
Beckett:
Are you okay?
Me:
No, not really.
Beckett:
I’ll be there in ten.
I should’ve told him not to come. I was a complete mess and hated the idea of him seeing me this way, but I didn’t want to be alone. I picked up my glass of wine and finished it off, then went to the kitchen for another—and then another. I was just starting to feel the effects when I heard a knock at the door. Beckett was standing on my porch wearing a pair of worn jeans and a dark t-shirt along with his cut. He hadn’t shaved in a couple of days and his eyes looked tired, which made the fact that he’d come to see me at such a late hour even more thoughtful. I could hear the concern in his voice as he said, “Hey, how ya making it?”
“I’ve been better.”
“I see that.” As soon as he stepped inside and took a quick glance around, the concerned expression on his face only grew more intense when he noticed that every light in my house was on. Once I’d locked the door, he turned to me and said, “I heard you talking to Clay.”
“Yeah.” I walked over and sat down on the sofa. “I figured that’s why you messaged me.”
“You wanna tell me about what happened?”
“No.” I took big sip of my wine. “I’d really rather not talk about it.”
“Then we won’t.”
He took off his cut, then sat down next to me and didn’t say anything more. For the first time since I’d seen Lucas in the parking lot of the Peabody, I felt like I could actually breathe. Almost an hour had passed when I looked over to him and said, “Thank you, Beckett.”
“You don’t have to thank me. I’m exactly where I want to be.”
I didn’t know what it was about him that made me feel so safe. This big, badass biker guy lived in a world that I’d never truly understood, but his strength and calm nature made me feel protected, like nothing—not even Lucas Brant—could hurt me. I curled up next to him, and it wasn’t long before I dozed off. I had no idea how long I’d been sleeping when I felt myself being lifted up and carried down the hall to my room. Beckett carefully lowered me down onto the bed, and as he pulled the covers over me, I looked up at him and said, “Please don’t go.”
“I’m not going anywhere, Lyssa. I’ll be on the sofa if you need me.”
“Okay.”
He turned out the lights, and I watched as he walked out into the hallway. Knowing that he was just in the next room, I was able to fall right back to sleep. Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough to keep me asleep. It was almost three when I woke up in a panic. There was no way I’d be able to go back to sleep, so I got out of bed and started towards the kitchen to make myself something to eat. I noticed that the TV was on in the living room and figured Beckett had nodded