JACK
Beckett and Imogen weren’t with Finn. I found them both out front; Beckett pacing next to the steps, Imogen watching.
The exterior door clicked shut behind me, but Beckett didn’t acknowledge my presence.
“Cunningham’s an asshole,” Beckett said. “I don’t trust him, and if it weren’t for Finn, I wouldn’t bother coming back.”
Imogen glanced at me wearily, like she’d been trying to rationalize with Beck for a few minutes already.
“Just because we save her,” she said, “doesn’t mean we have to hand her over to Dr. Cunningham. One thing at a time. We start with getting her back, and then we make plans from there.”
I made my way steadily down the steps.
“She’s right,” I said. “Step one, get Sage. We don’t even know if Finn’s going to live. And if he doesn’t, we don’t know that Sage will even care to meet her father.”
Beckett stopped pacing. His eyes narrowed to slits. “You talk about him dying like it doesn’t matter to you.”
I stiffened. I couldn’t take Beck if he was going to act like this right now. We had work to do, things to get done. His attitude was getting to me.
“I accept what is happening. I do what needs to be done,” I said. Then, irritated, I added, “That’s more than you’re ever willing to do.”
“Don’t you talk about what I’m willing to do.” Beckett’s speech slowed. “I buried Aunt Peg. Uncle Jeff. Sage’s mom.” He said each name as if they carried enormous weight and required work even to speak them.
“And whose fault is that?”
Like always, I was throwing words out there, not attaching myself one way or another, just letting the sentence fester in space. It was a low blow, knowing how much guilt Beckett already carried about it all. Why did I say it? Maybe this day was getting to me more than I realized. Maybe Dr. Cunningham got under my skin in a way I wasn’t prepared for. Maybe Beckett’s attitude pushed me too far.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” His body tensed, livid.
My stomach tightened, but I didn’t let my discomfort show. I raised my eyebrows in a sign of indifference and shrugged.
Beckett’s arms raised slightly from his sides, his arm and shoulder muscles contracting. “Do you really think I’m the reason they died?”
I didn’t respond, unwilling to apologize or contradict.
“Do you?” he repeated.
I wouldn’t answer his question, because he hated when I did that that, and we both wanted a good fight. The tension had been rising between us ever since I stepped into that cell on the island.
“Go on,” Beckett said. “I can tell you want to punch me. That’s what happens when things don’t go your way. When everything doesn’t happen according to your plan. I know you’re pissed at yourself because you didn’t save Sage from Dad. So go ahead. Punch me. Get it out. I’d like to hit your jaw a few times, anyway.”
I felt my blood start to heat up, and I was afraid of what that would mean for Beck. Three years on that farm in Canta had beefed Beck up a bit, and he was stronger than I remembered, but when we started in with a fight and it got too deep, I lost myself in it.
I needed to walk away. I had too many emotions pent up: Caesar’s death, failing Sage, Finn dying.
“I’m not fighting you right now. Not worth it,” I said.
“Boys,” Imogen said, stepping closer. She looked exasperated. “We’re not doing this right now. Can we make it a full twenty-four hours before I have to stave off another brother brawl, please?”
Beckett ignored Imogen. His eyes narrowed in on me.
“At least I don’t run away when it’s time to be real with people. You roll through the motions without feeling anything at all. No one matters to you. No relationship, no person. Which is good.” He smiled, like he was pleased with whatever he was about to say next. “It means I’ll eventually get her because all you’ll do is shut her out.”
The words hit too close to home.
I dove for him, and Beckett was ready. It’s why he said it.
His left hook connected with my jaw. Heat exploded from my jawbone up to my ears, the pain intensely gratifying.
I aimed my shoulder for Beckett’s waist.
Imogen backed up as Beckett and I rolled from the concrete sidewalk to the grass.
“Aaand … yes, people, congratulations. We’ve reverted back. We’re nine years old again.”
Beckett’s fist connected with my side, right at my kidney. I reveled in the throb that spread through my torso.
Just before I let myself get fully lost in the bliss of the fight, I heard Imogen sigh.
“I can’t believe we’re really doing this right now.”