Uncharted(44)

“So, I told her, ‘I’m sorry ma’am, I don’t know what you thought your first class ticket entailed, but I can assure you what you’ve just done in the bathroom with the gentleman from seat 3C is not on the menu.’”

I giggle until there are tears gathering at the corners of my eyes.

“You should get some rest,” Beck tells Ian, when our laughter tapers off. “Save your energy for tomorrow.”

“Ah yes, another big day spent sitting in this same spot.”

“Actually, if you’re feeling up for it, maybe I can carry you to the pool Violet found the other day — get you washed up, give you a change of scenery.”

Ian’s throat works rapidly, and I can tell he’s moved by the offer. “Thanks, man. I’d like that.”

“Also, there’s this.” Beck rises to his feet and walks to the edge of camp, where his things are stacked. When he returns, there are two long wooden branches in his hands, their tops shaved smooth.

Crutches, I realize. He’s made Ian crutches.

My eyes well up. I have to look away to keep the tears from falling. Ian is similarly affected, judging by the thickness of his voice when he thanks Beck.

“Least I could do.” Beck shrugs. “They’re not finished yet, but they will be by the time you’re ready to use them.”

“Means a lot, man,” Ian says shakily. “Appreciate it.”

Beck merely nods. As if it’s no big deal that he’s just given a man trapped by pain and circumstance something to look forward to. A reason to get up in the morning.

I am a grown ass man, weak as a fucking kitten, withering away in hundred-degree heat.

Worse, I’m a burden on you.

I think perhaps Beck doesn’t know what he’s just done, but as I catch his eyes I read awareness on every plane of his face. He heard our conversation earlier, heard how disheartened Ian was becoming… and he did what he could to rectify it. Not using a method I would’ve chosen, not in a manner I would’ve even considered… In his own way, on his own terms.

That’s simply… Beck.

He shows up. He saves people. Not because he wants praise in return. Not for credit. Not for notoriety. It’s just who he is, beneath the cutting commentary and blunt rebukes.

Hidden deep below that caustic exterior is a heart of solid gold. I’m sure of it.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” His voice is barely a whisper, so as not to wake Ian.

I give a start. “How am I looking at you?”

“Like…” His inhale is audible. “I might not be the biggest asshole on the planet.”

“Ah. I feel confident saying you’re probably not the biggest asshole on the planet.” My head tilts. “You’re definitely the biggest asshole on this island, though.”

His grin is a bolt of lightning in the dark. “I guess I deserve that.”

I don’t contradict him.

“I’m sorry I was such an asshole, yesterday. Actually, I’m sorry I’m an asshole all the time… but yesterday especially. When I got back and you weren’t here, when I couldn’t find you… I thought you were hurt. Or worse.” His head shakes, as though he can’t bear to contemplate that thought. “In my mind, as I searched the water and the woods, I kept imagining what this place would be like without you. Waking up without you here singing under your breath as you tidy the camp, smiling at the damn hermit crabs who steal our breakfast every morning, grinning at the baby birds who live in that nest over by the boulders. All those tiny moments of life you bring to this place… gone.”

My heart clenches as I realize I’ve been wrong about something.

He doesn’t see straight through me.

He sees my every detail sharper than a telephoto lens.

“I know it doesn’t excuse how I’ve been acting.” Beck’s voice grows so soft, it’s hard to make out his next words. “But the thought of losing you… I about lost my damn mind. And my temper was quick to follow, I’m afraid.”

How on earth am I supposed to respond to something like that?

“I know I’m not like Ian. I know things between you and me are… complicated,” he says carefully, sidestepping an atomic bomb. “But I’m hoping you’ll give me a chance to prove that I can do better. Be better. I—” He breaks off abruptly. “Look, I’m no good with words. We both know that. But I also don’t make false promises. I don’t commit to things and back out when it gets tough. So, when I tell you I’ll be there, I will. No exceptions. If you let me… I’ll show up for you. I’ll be your support system, whenever you need me. You can count on that.” He pauses. “Always. Even when I’m being a dick about it.”

My eyes are watering. I lie to myself that it’s caused the fire sending smoke into my face, instead of the apology I’ve just received. I don’t know whether to be stunned Beck can, in fact, own up to his own arrogance, or awed that the peace treaty I’ve been praying for has manifested without my lifting a finger.

As I contemplate his words, I look at his face, cast in contradictory hues from two angles — the moonlight above, the firelight below. A true dichotomy, much like the man before me.

Unapologetic curmudgeon.