He’s here to try and rebuild my friendship with Beckett. “Seriously?” I say. “You couldn’t have waited until I got back to camp to stage this fucking coup.”
Charlie tilts his head. “It’s not a coup, Sullivan. I was coming to guilt you into talking to him. Make some story up about how he’s having a bad day. Blah blah blah.” He waves a hand. “But I have a better idea now.”
No.
He smiles wickedly. “You call my brother, and I won’t tell anyone you and Akara are fucking.”
“We’re not fucking,” I whisper angrily. “We just kissed, and fuck you—don’t talk about me like that.” The way he said fucking, he made it sound…meaningless. And it’s never been to me.
Charlie rolls his eyes, but he eases up. “I believe you aren’t sleeping together.”
I exhale a tense breath. “Thank you.”
“Only because you’re a terrible liar.”
I glare. “So you’re blackmailing me? Your own cousin?” I am a little shocked. I thought there were some lines Charlie drew in the sand. Or maybe I was just untouchable to his tactics because I used to be Beckett’s best friend. Now I’m not.
He lets out a tired breath. “He’s my twin brother. I’d blackmail my own father if it meant making him happy.”
I snort. “As if you could blackmail your dad.” I can hear Uncle Connor replying to his son, that’s very ambitious to think you can blackmail me, and it’s also completely out of your capabilities.
Charlie says, “Which is probably for the best, since I wouldn’t want to have to try.”
It is kind of sweet what Charlie would do for Beckett. In this fucked up way. And I do care about Beckett, but for some reason, I can’t easily erase the hurt he caused. I remember a word.
Forgiveness.
Why is it so hard for me? I’m so quick to cut people out. With no look back.
That scares me.
It scares me even more to let Beckett back fully into my life. To know he could hurt me again. And his words have been scarred inside my heart.
The second you retire from swimming you’re all of a sudden drinking alcohol and passing out—at least I’m not pointlessly destroying my body.
He’s never criticized me as a way to deflect off himself before. He was purposefully cruel, and I’d never ever fucking attribute that word to Beckett Joyce Cobalt.
Cruel is so far from what and who he is.
Addiction.
It runs in my family, and I want to be empathetic towards Beckett and what he was going through back then, but I’m afraid.
Beckett and I have always built up each other’s confidence, and in that moment, I realized he was the one person that could tear me down to the ground. So even if I forgive him now, I’m giving him the ability to hurt me again.
“Sulli, this offer is going to expire and self-destruct in ten seconds,” Charlie says and looks to his watch, timing me. “Ten…nine…”
“Okay, okay,” I say quickly. “I’ll call him.”
“Right now,” Charlie states firmly.
I make a face. “Now?”
He lets out an irritated noise. “That’s what I said.”
“Can’t I have a couple days?”
“No.”
“One day?”
“We’re not bartering. You have no leverage in this transaction.” He takes a seat on an overturned canoe. “You now have five seconds.”
“Ugh,” I groan and pull out my cell phone. “If you weren’t family, my bodyguard would have you pinned on the ground right now.”
Charlie barely blinks. “The bodyguard who was too busy sucking your face to notice me? That one?”
Oh my fucking God!
I’ve lost the verbal tennis match that I didn’t even want to play.
Quickly, I squat to talk on my cell, but I also want to sink into the ground. Let me just become a puddle on this floor.
I pinch the bridge of my nose as my phone rings.
“Sulli?” Beckett sounds concerned. Because why else would I call after all this time? Maybe he thinks I’d only reach out if I were on my deathbed.
Then again, I didn’t even call to tell him about the cougar attack. The room is stifling all of a sudden. I feel like a jerk. It’s been too long, and I don’t know how to do this anymore. I’m the Friendship Assassin. Not the Friendship Necromancer. I don’t know how to bring a friendship back to life.
I want to hang up.
“Sulli?” Beckett asks again. “Are you okay?” On the background of the call, I hear classical music. Songs to Romeo & Juliet, the ballet he’s cast in. Unsure of his schedule, I can’t determine whether he’s at a rehearsal before the performance or whether he’s backstage during it, but I also can’t see him dipping out of an actual show just to talk to me.
Just like I wouldn’t dip out of a swim meet to talk to him. Our dedication has been a link that ties us, an understanding that no one else really gets. And it feels good to be understood so deeply by someone.
Charlie clears his throat. I glance over at the canoes, and he gestures at my phone to speak.
“Um…” I swallow hard. “Yeah, I’m alright. I fucking guess. Charlie just blackmailed me into calling you.” I don’t even know why I told him the truth. It’s just not natural to lie to Beckett.
He sighs heavily. “I apologize on Charlie’s behalf.” He must move somewhere quieter because the music falls more hushed. “Shit, I’m sorry,” Beckett says, “this isn’t how I wanted you to talk to me again.”
“Well, it’s fucking happening.” I stare at the dirty floor tiles.
“Is he watching?”
“Yep.”
Beckett laughs a little. “Then I’m sorry again. I’d tell you to hang up, but he probably won’t find this call sufficient enough. Do you want me to hang up? You can pretend to keep talking for a bit.”
Beckett is kind.
My dad used to always say that all the Cobalt boys are mischievous in some way. All but one.
Beckett.
Honest and kind. Though, he can be extremely blunt. I know that. And after he snuck around doing drugs, I’m not so sure my dad would say today what he used to say back then.
But right now, Beckett’s kindness rushes back into me, almost as a reminder of the Beckett I grew older with, my best friend.
“No, it’s okay,” I whisper. “We can talk for a second.”
My pulse ratchets up. On a steep incline.
The second you retire from swimming you’re all of a sudden drinking alcohol and passing out—at least I’m not pointlessly destroying my body.
I push that memory back to ask, “How’s ballet?” I want to ask whether he still “loathes” Leo Valavanis, his rival in the company, but those extra words lodge in my throat.
“It’s challenging lately, but I like that about this performance we’re on.” He pauses. “How’s swimming?”
“I’m climbing. Not swimming.”
“I know, but your first love is swimming. First loves just don’t go away.” He uses love in context of a thing, a sport, an ambition—not a person. Beckett doesn’t want to fall in love with anyone.