Inked Obsession (Montgomery Ink Fort Collins #2) - Carrie Ann Ryan Page 0,24

to cry. I wouldn’t. This day would not get the fucking best of me. I would not give it the satisfaction.

Beckett wasn’t in his truck, meaning he must be in my house. Where I’d told him to go when he stopped by before. He had a key, and he was on a tight schedule. I had given him permission. I couldn’t be angry about this. Damn it, I was exhausted.

I walked into the house and slammed the door behind me.

Beckett looked up from his toolbox and blinked. “Jesus. Are you okay? What happened? Dear God, hold on. Let me get you something to dry off.”

“Why is today such a horrible day?” I asked, my voice cracking.

He looked at me, blinked, and I promptly burst into tears.

I covered my face with my hands and shook my head. “Please don’t look at me. Pretend I’m not doing this. I do not cry.” I hiccupped through the words, sobbing, hating myself. I could not break down. I hadn’t broken down at the funeral. I hadn’t broken down in front of my friends. Nobody needed to see me as a widow. The woman they thought was so strong because she could handle everything. Nobody needed to see me break down.

And, of course, I had to go and do so in front of Beckett fucking Montgomery.

Strong arms pulled me against an even stronger chest, and I wanted to push at him, to pound on his pecs and tell him to go away. I couldn’t. Instead, I just cried as Beckett held me, and I tried to catch my breath.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

“No, you don’t,” I whispered. “Nobody does.”

Marshall had used to say that to me. He used to say that he had me and would always. Had he said that to Natasha, as well? Oh, I was sure he’d damn well said it when they were together before. I was just the rebound.

“Rebound?” he whispered.

“Did I say that out loud?”

“Who is Natasha?” he asked.

I almost didn’t say anything. I almost held my tongue and walked away and left to cry in my bed. I was tired. So tired.

I pulled away, and he reached out and wiped the tears from my cheeks. I tried not to wonder what it would be like to have him touch my face when I wasn’t sobbing and looking like a coffee-stained, panicked mess.

That wouldn’t have accomplished anything.

“What’s going on, Eliza?” he whispered, pushing my messy hair from my face.

I might as well tell him everything. He’d already seen me at my best. “Apparently, my husband cheated on me. With his high school girlfriend. The woman my in-laws love more than anyone else. The one they chose for him over me. He cheated on me with her, and according to them, he has a little girl—a daughter. Everybody knew but me. My husband is dead. Gone. There’s a little girl out there with his eyes. I don’t know if I’m supposed to believe it, but of course, it has to be true. Because why else would my former in-laws ask me for money for her?”

My voice shook, and it felt as if the world tugged at me, taking everything from me.

“Why wasn’t I good enough, Beckett? Why wasn’t I good enough for him to stay faithful? Why did he have to go back to her? Why did they have to lie? Why did he have to go? He could have stayed here, and we could have fought, and I could have figured out what to do. But I can’t hate a ghost. I can’t hate a dead man. Instead, I have to live here in my misery and pretend that I’m going to be okay, no matter what. I can’t hate a man who can’t speak for himself.”

The tears fell, and Beckett just stared at me and then cursed under his breath. “Come here, let me hold you some more.”

“I can’t.” The tears fell harder, and I shook. Then I was somehow falling to the floor, my legs going out from under me. Beckett was there, cushioning my fall, holding me close on his lap as he sat with me. He rocked me, his words soft and soothing as he slid his hands down my sides, keeping me calm. Or trying to. I was sticky with sugar, covered in coffee and the tears of betrayal and everything else that was my life.

“What do I need to do?” I whispered.

“We’ll figure it out. Tell the girls. Your brothers. I’ll help you.