It's Complicated: A Reservations Story

Julian sifted his fingers through Woofer’s fur, petting him right behind his ear where Woofer loved it the most. “I can’t believe I slept so long. I’m still tired.”

“You should be. You’ve been through hell. I suspect you’ll need quite a bit of downtime to recover. I don’t know how you’ve done so well. Those pictures…”

Julian gently squeezed Beckett’s thigh. Beckett had studied the investigators’ photographs when they found him bloodied and abused, on the cusp of death in that dingy motel’s bathroom. As he started to bring the subject up, Beckett turned the truck around a curve, the headlights illuminating a large structure in the distance.

“What’s that?” Julian leaned in closer to get a better look.

Beckett chuckled, tilting his head toward Julian as if he should know this answer. “It’s my cabin.”

“Cabin?” Julian barked and changed his position, dislodging Woofer as he tried to glance this way and that until the truck aligned itself in the same direction as the two-story log cabin. “That’s a sizable home. Cabin means one or two rooms max. That looks huge and has two stories. You built this?”

Beckett didn’t hide his humor at Julian’s surprise. “When you’re in the closet, hiding from yourself and the world, you have lots of time on your hands. The upstairs is incomplete, but as I got started, it felt right to build up. I kept pretending I’d find a wife and have a pack of children someday,” Beckett explained, pulling the truck to a stop in a gravel driveway. “There were holes in my plan. I had never dated a woman, and I lived in the middle of nowhere, so I don’t know where this imaginary wife was going to come from.”

He put the gearshift into park and unwound his arm to reach for his cell phone tucked into a cubby. “We have one of those Starlink satellites. You should be able to get coverage anywhere around here. My password is Julian. Don’t judge me.”

Beckett worked his phone’s screen, and seconds later, the lights on the front porch and some of the trees came to life, guiding their way. The lamps in each window followed suit until the whole house welcomed their arrival.

“It’s beautiful, Beck. I was expecting to have to battle varmints and bugs. I was afraid it wasn’t going to end well for us.” Julian stared at the gorgeous scenery. A picture-perfect place. If the inside was as tranquil as the outside, Julian saw nothing but relaxation in his near future.

“Varmints?” Beckett asked, turning his body as he stopped in mid step of getting out of the truck. “You been watching Gunsmoke or Yosemite Sam?”

“Rocky and Bullwinkle,” Julian shot back, smiling at the happiness rolling off Beckett. He tenderly elbowed Beckett, pushing him out of the cab as Woofer bulldozed his way out of the truck in front of Julian. He ultimately scooted back, letting the dog go first, his paws and hair leaving Julian’s clothing in disarray.

“Come on, slowpoke,” Beckett teased. He took long strides toward the front door, laughing at their silly exchange as he pushed the front door open then moved to the side, waiting for Julian to join him. Woofer clearly knew the path. He trotted his way up the porch steps.

“Hey now,” Beckett said to Woofer, who pushed past Beckett to get inside. Woofer turned in the frame of the doorway, sticking his head back outside, both his guys were watching, waiting for Julian to start their way. He did just that.

It had been a long twenty-four hours on top of a long couple of years. He took a shuddering deep breath as he stared at all the goodness in front of him. He digested the chaotic mess of his life. His life had been messed up for even longer than the accident. He couldn’t remember a time that he’d ever been truly happy. Sure, it had taken a minute for him to recognize what he had, but with his heart pumping wildly in his chest and tears welling in his eyes, a certainty settled in his soul. This was what he’d been missing. The love embracing his soul: happiness. That honest, endearing man and that silly dog waiting for him made the tears spill over and trail down his cheeks.

“What’s wrong, Julian?” Beckett asked, meeting him halfway across the porch. Julian rubbed his hand over his eyes as Beckett tenderly took him into his arms. His concern and confusion were Julian’s only focus. He wanted to ease Beckett as much as he wanted to take his next breath. “What happened?”

“I’m a fucking mess.” Tears flowed in earnest now. “I never cry. What the hell?”

Beckett let Julian go long enough to pull his cotton T-shirt over his head. Julian only rolled his eyes. It wasn’t the hot, muscular chest that seared Beckett into his soul but the sweet man giving him the shirt off his back to wipe away the tears. A symbolic gesture that spoke of their future so clearly.