He’d grown up in a decent place, but his mom and dad struggled. They both worked a lot, but with two growing boys and a factory that sustained the distant suburban Denver town constantly changing hands and eventually closing down, it wasn’t easy.
He’d never had velvet couches.
He’d never had personality.
His father was a presence in the house, not a force.
His mother tolerated her husband, raised her sons and ran her house and sons like she was a single mother, and the idea of silver sponges (or whatever) that had no purpose and were a little weird (but Beck had to admit they looked cool), would not cross her mind.
He did not think of his place with Rosalie.
But if he’d thought about it, he’d realize she brought her life to it, not adding anything from their lives together. And he’d brought shit. So when she’d left him, she’d taken it all.
And if he’d thought on it, he’d realize they’d always been temporary. She’d always had her foot aimed to walk out the door.
Now he knew that wasn’t about Rose still being in love with Shy Cage.
It was that he never gave enough of himself for her to fully give herself to him.
And somewhere in her, she knew she deserved better.
She’d been right.
Now he had a bed. A couch. A TV. A set of plates and forks, knives and spoons he got at Walmart. And an overflowing trash bin since he always ate takeout.
He had shit before he had Rosie.
He had shit now.
Except when he was with Janna.
He turned the corner and saw Janna standing at the stove wearing a tight, little cami with tiny pink flowers on it and short, pink pajama shorts with a little frill at the edge.
She curled that mass of blonde hair so that now, in the morning, after sleeping and fucking, it was a messy mane of curls and tangles that dropped down in a V nearly to her waist at the back.
Her profile was makeup free.
She had the top of her hair pulled back in a little pony that made her look like Pebbles Flintstone, except hotter.
And the toes on her bare feet were painted an insanely girlie shade of pink.
His cock started to get hard.
Something pulled in his chest.
It was the smell of bacon, as it would do, that cut through.
“Babe, you shouldn’t make me breakfast.”
She turned her head, got that melty look and a smile, and replied, “Good morning, honey.”
Beck ignored the melty look.
“I gotta be at work at six thirty. You don’t.”
“It’s a trek into Denver.”
“It’s five o’clock in the morning.”
“So?”
“When do you normally get up?”
She looked to the skillet.
Right.
It was time.
It was time months ago.
Now, those legs, that Pebbles hair, her living room, the toothbrush, her going for a deep kiss, bacon . . .
It was definitely time.
“We don’t have this.”
She jerked her head to face his way again, emotions chasing across her expression until she settled on just one, and that one was a look he’d never seen.
Stubborn.
It was cute.
Fuck.
Her eyes scanned him up and down and she retorted, “Funny. It looks like we do.”
“Janna—” he started, beginning to move into the kitchen.
“Beck,” she snapped, making him stop.
She’d never snapped at him.
Never showed backbone.
That was hot too.
They held each other’s eyes.
And as they did, he decided to use this to his advantage.
“Okay, if we do, you had another bad dream last night. Wouldn’t tell me what that shit was about. Didn’t tell me about it when you had one before. So if we got this, tell me what it was about.”
The stubborn shifted out of her face. It closed right down. And she looked back to the skillet.
“Janna,” he growled.
She slid the skillet off the burner and turned full body to him, announcing, “You don’t trust yourself with me.”
Beck stood frozen still.
She wasn’t done.
“You’re the gentlest man I’ve ever met.”
“I am not that,” he bit out.
“No. You weren’t. Now, you are.”
He did not believe that.
She couldn’t believe that.
And if she did, he really had to end this.
“We’re not doin’ this. Any of this,” he stated, throwing out a hand to indicate the food cooking on the stove as well as her.
And them.
“You start to trust yourself with me, Beck, I’ll start to trust you and tell you about my dream,” she said quietly.
He did not process the fact that Janna, his sweet, timid Janna (not his, but his, Christ) was using emotional extortion to get what she wanted because he focused on one thing.