Read Online Fall Into Temptation (Blue Moon #2) by Lucy Score - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Lucy Score
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toast to their father at sunset, but decided against it. It was an unofficial tradition that he and Carter had shared in the years since his brother came home from Afghanistan.
It would have been even better now that Jax was home again. But neither of his brothers seemed to be interested in the threat Franklin posed to their family. In fact, they probably weren’t even aware that it was their father’s birthday and he wasn’t going to be the one to remind them.
It was up to him to carry on his father’s memory and that’s just what he would do.
Their mother had never joined them on the bluff and Beckett wondered what she had done in years past to remember the husband she had loved so fiercely. He always made it a point to call her or take her to lunch on his father’s birthday. Every year except this one.
He allowed that thought to eat at him until he closed the office down. He took off his tie and pulled on a lightweight sweater over his button down.
In his refrigerator he grabbed a six-pack and avoided looking into the backyard from any of the windows.
Beckett took his time driving out to the family farm. As often as he visited, the drive today always held a special solemnity. It was a somber tradition cloaked in stubbornness. It was Beckett’s way of refusing to forget, to let time mellow and dull his memories.
Tonight, he would drink a toast to his father, very likely alone. But with or without his brothers, he would remember. He would carry on. Great men didn’t just vanish from the world. They lived on in memory and tradition.
Beckett passed the farm’s drive and instead turned onto the lane that wound around to the stables. It wasn’t any faster this way, but at least he could avoid the farmhouse and its occupants. He followed the trail behind the barn and hung a right at the fork, bumping along the trail flanked by fence posts and fields.
When he rounded a copse of trees, he stopped, surprised to find three figures in his headlights.
Beckett turned off the ignition and slid out of the driver seat.
“About damn time,” Jax called out.
His brothers were kicked back, beers in hand, in two of the four lawn chairs set up on the ridge facing west.
The third figure wandered toward him. Phoebe smiled sadly and opened her arms to him. What had been a dull throb in his chest bloomed into full-blown pain.
Beckett walked into his mother’s arms, tucking her under his chin and holding her close. “Mom.” It was all he could think to say. In all of his years observing this sunset ritual, his mother had never joined him.
“This is the first year I’ve been strong enough, happy enough to come out here to remember him this way.” She sighed into Beckett’s chest.
“Where’s Franklin? And Summer?” he asked.
“They’re back at the house. They wanted to give us Pierces some privacy,” she said, looking up at him, her eyes misty behind her glasses.
He was an asshole. An overgrown, immature, pathetic asshole, Beckett decided .
Maybe, just maybe, the man he’d been blaming for fading his father’s memory was actually somehow making it more vibrant for his mother.
And the brothers he’d thought had forgotten had beaten him to it.
He draped an arm over his mother’s shoulders and walked her back to the chairs.
Wordlessly, Carter handed him a beer. Beckett took a seat between his brothers and they all sat in silence, lost in their own memories as the sky went pink and orange.
“Remember that time Dad brought home the three-legged cat he found on the side of the road?” Jax asked, breaking the silence as the sun slipped behind the trees.
“Good old Tripod. He always did have a soft spot for strays.” Carter grinned.
The sound of his mother’s laugh was balm to Beckett’s heart.
9
G ia was feeling decidedly un-yoga-like. She’d considered pawning off her Pierce brother yoga competition judging to Destiny. But that was too cowardly.
Beckett’s blow-up at the gym the previous morning
It would have been even better now that Jax was home again. But neither of his brothers seemed to be interested in the threat Franklin posed to their family. In fact, they probably weren’t even aware that it was their father’s birthday and he wasn’t going to be the one to remind them.
It was up to him to carry on his father’s memory and that’s just what he would do.
Their mother had never joined them on the bluff and Beckett wondered what she had done in years past to remember the husband she had loved so fiercely. He always made it a point to call her or take her to lunch on his father’s birthday. Every year except this one.
He allowed that thought to eat at him until he closed the office down. He took off his tie and pulled on a lightweight sweater over his button down.
In his refrigerator he grabbed a six-pack and avoided looking into the backyard from any of the windows.
Beckett took his time driving out to the family farm. As often as he visited, the drive today always held a special solemnity. It was a somber tradition cloaked in stubbornness. It was Beckett’s way of refusing to forget, to let time mellow and dull his memories.
Tonight, he would drink a toast to his father, very likely alone. But with or without his brothers, he would remember. He would carry on. Great men didn’t just vanish from the world. They lived on in memory and tradition.
Beckett passed the farm’s drive and instead turned onto the lane that wound around to the stables. It wasn’t any faster this way, but at least he could avoid the farmhouse and its occupants. He followed the trail behind the barn and hung a right at the fork, bumping along the trail flanked by fence posts and fields.
When he rounded a copse of trees, he stopped, surprised to find three figures in his headlights.
Beckett turned off the ignition and slid out of the driver seat.
“About damn time,” Jax called out.
His brothers were kicked back, beers in hand, in two of the four lawn chairs set up on the ridge facing west.
The third figure wandered toward him. Phoebe smiled sadly and opened her arms to him. What had been a dull throb in his chest bloomed into full-blown pain.
Beckett walked into his mother’s arms, tucking her under his chin and holding her close. “Mom.” It was all he could think to say. In all of his years observing this sunset ritual, his mother had never joined him.
“This is the first year I’ve been strong enough, happy enough to come out here to remember him this way.” She sighed into Beckett’s chest.
“Where’s Franklin? And Summer?” he asked.
“They’re back at the house. They wanted to give us Pierces some privacy,” she said, looking up at him, her eyes misty behind her glasses.
He was an asshole. An overgrown, immature, pathetic asshole, Beckett decided .
Maybe, just maybe, the man he’d been blaming for fading his father’s memory was actually somehow making it more vibrant for his mother.
And the brothers he’d thought had forgotten had beaten him to it.
He draped an arm over his mother’s shoulders and walked her back to the chairs.
Wordlessly, Carter handed him a beer. Beckett took a seat between his brothers and they all sat in silence, lost in their own memories as the sky went pink and orange.
“Remember that time Dad brought home the three-legged cat he found on the side of the road?” Jax asked, breaking the silence as the sun slipped behind the trees.
“Good old Tripod. He always did have a soft spot for strays.” Carter grinned.
The sound of his mother’s laugh was balm to Beckett’s heart.
9
G ia was feeling decidedly un-yoga-like. She’d considered pawning off her Pierce brother yoga competition judging to Destiny. But that was too cowardly.
Beckett’s blow-up at the gym the previous morning
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