Return to Poughkeepsie (2 page)

It took him two days to get back to Poughkeepsie, where it all had started. He’d driven these streets as a king. A man to be feared. And now he was twitching at the cop cars and bright lights, pulling his hat down low and trying not to act like the fucking suspect he was.

Beckett could see the lights on in Blake’s apartment. He parked in a spot and quietly closed the door of his paid-for-in-cash Lincoln. If the police were still searching for him, Blake’s place should be first on their list. But he was going to get to see his brother’s home—his first real home. The thought stopped him mid-stride.

Thank you, God. He has a home inside, in a building, in a girl’s arms. I don’t think you’re taking my calls anymore, but take this: Thank you.

Back when Eve was still his and she was helping Blake deal with his sun thing, she’d told him about the apartment in detail—like they were a SWAT team about to attack. He knew where every piece of furniture should be, where the windows were, but he was dying to see it. With his own eyes he wanted to see his brother standing and breathing and happy.

He knocked softly on the door. He listened as two locks clicked and watched the knob turn. Livia’s arms were around him as soon as the door flew open. She had enough sense to not say his name out loud.

He mumbled into her hair, “Don’t you look in the peephole before you open the fucking door?” He could feel warm wetness on his T-shirt and knew she was crying. She was happy to see him. He put one thick arm around her back and walked her into the apartment, closing the door behind them.

“Beckett, I missed your crazy ass.” Livia put her hands on his shoulders and looked into his eyes.

“Mrs. Whitebread, you look as fantastic as anyone could in a pair of polar bear pants.” Beckett smiled for her.

“You just missed Blake. He left for work. Let me call his cell and tell him you’re here.” Livia let go of him long enough to retrieve her phone from the end table in the living room.

Beckett covered her fingers as she began to call. “Wait, babycakes. Work? He has regular work?”

She was like metal in a microwave, she lit up so instantly. “I should let him tell you.”

Beckett raised an eyebrow. “Say it. Spit it out.”

Livia took a deep, smiling breath. “Okay, so he’s been working at the piano bar? He took over for the full-time guy, and he’s been a big hit. Of course, right?”

Beckett nodded. “Of course.”

“Well, just yesterday an agent stopped by and wants Blake to make a demo. In a studio. With microphones.” Livia’s voice went up an octave with every sentence. Beckett was pretty sure she now hovered a few inches above the floor.

“That’s fucking amazing news, I can’t even tell you. Look how great you guys have been doing with me gone.” Beckett wanted this to be a compliment, but Livia’s eyes widened, then narrowed.

“Oh, no. You don’t get to say that. He misses you so much. Things that remind him of you? They just stop him in his tracks. He even wrote a song about you.” Livia put her hand on his arm.

“As fucking gay as that is, it chokes me up like a bitch.” Beckett laughed but covered his mouth with his fist.

He took a moment to look around, finding touches of his brother: two glasses in the sink, a pile of music paper, a picture of Blake and Livia in front of a Disney castle stuck on the fridge with a magnet, an extra pair of his shoes by the door. An extra pair of
Blake’s
shoes by the door.
Fuck yeah.
It was better than he could’ve ever imagined. On the coffee table, he saw a brand new pair of baby socks and a teeny, tiny hat.

“Wait a minute, is your sister knocked up? Did Cole do this?” He pointed at the pile of hope. Livia shook her head and put her hand on her own belly.

“You? You! Oh, baby, come here.” He gathered her again in his arms, patting her back. “You and my brother are having a kid?” Beckett kissed her on the forehead.

She smiled even wider now. “We just found out on our belated honeymoon last week. The honeymoon you paid for, by the way. Thank you.”

Beckett brushed away her thanks. “That’s you guys’ money. I’m glad you did something cool with it.”

He let her go and picked up the impossibly small baby clothes. Winnie the Pooh was printed happy and fat repeatedly on the fabric. “Kids start out this freaking small? Holy crap.”

Livia nodded. “Yeah. I’ve got to say, I’m a little scared. I’ve never even
held
an infant.”

Beckett put the hat and booties down as if they were made of glass. “Whitebread, I can just picture you, hair in a ponytail, spooning some glop into an adorable kid. You’ll be amazing.” The whole sight of Livia, glowing and smiling, made him think of Eve and everything he’d taken from her. He needed to find out if she was happy.

“Thanks, Beck. I sure hope so.”

“So, is Eve married yet?” Beckett looked at his feet, but he knew he’d tipped his cards. Women were so fucking intuitive.

“Ahh. I see. I’m glad you’re looking for her.” Livia sat on the couch.

Beckett shook his head and sat next to her. “No, see, I’m just checking on my people. So they’re not pregnant, but how’re Fairy Princess and Cole?”

“They’re doing really well. Cole has gone back to college to become a teacher. He’s going for his special education degree. His church congregation has provided him with the first-ever Riverside Church College Scholarship. Kyle is still at Mode, working her fashion magic, and the owner has made her a manager. Kyle and Cole also spend a lot of time hiking and volunteering at the church.”

Beckett ran his hand through his messy hair. “What does ‘special education’ mean? Who’ll Cole be teaching?”

Livia took his hand but waited until he looked at her to speak. “He can teach anyone, but his focus will be emotionally disturbed students. The ones who only have anger to respond to feelings. The ones who have big hearts, but big fists as well. He’ll be teaching them how to love without pain.”

“Kids like he was? That’s perfect.” Beckett could easily picture Cole driving to a school in his grandpa car. No kid would get one over on him. Cole knew all their tricks already.

Livia curled Beckett’s hand into a fist. “He says, and I quote, ‘I want to be there for the kids like Beckett. I want to be for them what I couldn’t be for him.’ He’s so proud.”

Beckett took his fist from her hand and stood. They were all doing great. Coming here was a selfish mistake. He didn’t even trust himself in the room with her, with a little baby in her belly. God, what if one of his old enemies spotted him and took aim through the window? He had a flash of her beautiful hair tangled in blood, lying on the floor, a bullet putting an end to all this perfect. He moved so fast, she gasped as he pulled all the curtains closed. Slapping light switches off, he pulled her to the safest place in the room.

“You have to promise to take good care of yourself. Good care of that baby. Good care of my brother. Okay? I’ve got to go. I need to go. I need to leave all of you here—in this storybook ending in my head.” Beckett hugged her again and headed for the door. He could feel his poison spreading through all he’d found.

Livia spoke harshly, “Beckett. You will not leave now. I need to know what the hell is going on. Why do you look like shit? Why are you acting paranoid? You show up after a year? I want answers. Blake will demand answers, and if I can’t give them to him, he’ll quit his job and go find you. Do you want that?”

Beckett paused with his hand on the door.

“Livia, please let me leave while I can.” He waited.

Livia grabbed her cell phone again.

Good, baby. Call the cops. Get me out of here.

She scrolled until she found what she wanted. She handed him the phone:

Lollipop’s Ladies: 702-555-1354

“We haven’t seen Eve since before the wedding. She calls from this number once a week to talk to Blake about the sun. She refuses to give him any information about what she’s doing. But Blake says he’s heard people calling her January.”

Beckett stared at the phone and smiled an evil smile. “Lollipop’s is a strip club—a skin shop outside of Vegas. She’s taking her clothes off for money. Which makes no fucking sense, because I paid her enough to live two comfortable lives.”

He was beginning to rage. Livia hugged him. “Beckett, I want to know what you’ve been doing.”

Livia was in front of a window again. Though the curtain was secure, Beckett had another flash of her being shot in his arms, so he pulled her back to the couch where they could sit in the semi-dark. He handed her back her phone.

“You want to know, Whitebread? Well, I can’t tell you most of it. Honestly, I wouldn’t even try in your delicate condition.” But the minute the words were out of his mouth, he knew she would be anything but delicate as a mother. She would be fierce and devoted and tireless. “I’ve spent a year wishing,” he finally said. “Wishing the best for all of you. And looks like I got my wish, right?”

He looked at her. It was her deep gray eyes that made him tell her. “I was this fucking close to blowing my brains out a few days ago.”

She nodded, waiting for the rest.

“I wanted to make my absence permanent, because I can’t trust myself. I want to be close to my family. I’m too selfish to leave forever.” He held his head and looked at the floor, ashamed to be admitting his weakness to his brother’s wife.

“No. No.” Livia turned his face toward hers. “You love us too much to take away someone we love. Beckett, please, your life is dangerous enough. You don’t need
you
as an enemy too.”

“Don’t make me out to be something worth saving. We both know I’m a waste.” His voice was so quiet.

“I wish I was better at telling you why you have to stay here. I wish I could put into words the part of my heart that has your name written on it. That part hurts right now. You have to be here. You love life too much. You’re so important. I wish I could make you understand this.”

He tried to smile at her valiant efforts.

“I would keep you if I could. You can sleep here, right on this couch. Beckett, I will let you hold this baby when it comes.” She touched her stomach. “Does that tell you how much you mean to me? It’s the only thing I can come up with.”

He shrugged.

“Mouse would be disappointed. He’d feel like he didn’t do his job if you died…Eve loves you. Wherever she is—in this strip club—is that what you’ve been wishing for?”

Beckett shook his head.

“No, right? She loves you. You can’t kill someone she loves. You just can’t.” Livia’s earnest efforts filled the room.

Really? I already did that, baby. Twice.

Livia bit her lip.

Beckett picked up her hand and kissed it. “Thank you. I’m sorry for bothering you.” He stood.

“Please promise me you won’t try to hurt yourself again. Just promise me that, and I’ll let you go.”

He loved that she thought she could stop him from doing anything. He knew she would try. “You tell my brothers they’ll hear from me again and to keep up the good work. I’m so fucking proud of them. Tell your sister I told her to get knocked up too.”

“And? For me?”

In that moment Livia looked exactly like the wife every man should want: flannel pants, little booties on the table, love written all over her soft skin like it was a newspaper. “I won’t hurt myself on purpose. I promise you.” Beckett turned to leave but didn’t miss the tears on her cheeks. “You lock this door behind me,” he added. “And name that kid Beckett.”

Just before he closed the door he heard her retort, “But I already named the plant Beckett!”

He waited until he heard the locks click back into place.
Safe again.

He wanted to go listen to Blake. He wanted to pound Cole on the back. But he needed to find Eve. If one more dude saw her tits, his head might explode. Livia
had
said something that changed his mind. He would keep his promise to her. He wouldn’t blow his own head off.

“She loves you. You can’t kill someone she loves. You just can’t.”
If Eve loved him still, even a little, he couldn’t kill yet another person she loved.