Tie Me Down (Bellamy Creek #4) Read Online Melanie Harlow

Categories Genre: Contemporary, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Bellamy Creek Series by Melanie Harlow
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Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 100713 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 504(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 336(@300wpm)
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She inhaled and exhaled, nodding as if she’d expected that answer. “Can I come in?”

“Of course.” I stood back and she entered the room, turning to face me, hands on her hips.

“Let me guess. Beckett said he doesn’t have time for a long-distance relationship.”

“It wasn’t so much that,” I said, closing the door. “Although I can plainly see that such a thing would be really hard for him. He really can’t get away from here.”

“True,” she admitted. “It would be tough.”

“Our conversation was actually more about the possibility of me moving back to Bellamy Creek.”

Her mouth fell open in surprise. “Really? You’re considering that?”

“I was certainly willing to consider it. It would be complicated—I’d have to get permission from Elliott’s dad—quit my job, find a new one . . . but even those things wouldn’t have deterred me if Beckett had asked me to move up here to be with him. If he saw a future for us. But that’s not what he suggested.”

“I don’t understand. What did he suggest?”

“That I move here to take the job as caretaker for your dad.”

She stared at me, completely agog. “That’s what he said? Move back so you can be my dad’s full-time nurse and babysitter?”

“Yes.” I wiped a tear that had snuck out of the corner of one eye.

“That asshole!” She shook her head and thumped the heel of her hand on her forehead. “I don’t get it. The guy’s crazy about you. He’s always been crazy about you. And now here you both are, finally at the point in your lives where you could be together, and he offers you a job? This is messed up.”

“Listen, I don’t want to blame Beckett for being unable to say what I needed to hear. I had unrealistic expectations, you know? I saw something that wasn’t there.”

“No, you didn’t,” she insisted. “I saw it. Even Daisy saw it. She asked if you guys were going to get married. She’s hoping Elliott can be her cousin.”

I smiled through tears. “What you saw might have just been closeness. We’ve always had a great connection. But that doesn’t mean that he wants to be with me forever. He doesn’t even believe that’s possible. He thinks people don’t stay.”

“Did he say that?”

“Yes. Multiple times, multiple ways.”

She closed her eyes and sighed. “Can I tell you something?”

“Sure.” I went to the bed and sat down.

Mallory strolled toward one window, turned around, and leaned back against the sill with both hands. “You know my mom left when Beck was really tiny.”

“Yes.”

“He doesn’t remember her at all.”

“That’s what he said. He’s only seen pictures. He said that no one ever really talked about her growing up.”

She nodded. “That’s the truth. We didn’t. My dad dealt with his pain by working, and Beckett bore witness to that. I’ve always thought that’s why he was so obsessed with work. As he got older, he saw how our dad used work to cope with feelings of loss and abandonment. Amy and I were devastated too—we were only six and nine at the time—but at least we had each other to talk to. And we cried a lot. Beckett grew up thinking that men should be strong and suffer silently. They work. They provide. They protect.”

“He does all of those things,” I said softly.

“I think he ended up learning that it was better to just work off your feelings than talk about them. Or keep them bottled up. When he got older, sometimes he would ask questions, but Amy and I didn’t really have answers. And we probably made it worse by just trying to distract him or change the subject. I wish we’d known better back then. We all could have used some therapy.”

I smiled sadly.

“I’ve gone since then, and it’s helped me a lot.”

“Me too.”

“Our dad tried hard,” Mallory went on, her eyes filling. “He was the best dad he knew how to be, and he made sure we had food and shelter and clothing and never had to miss out on things because of money. And he never yelled or hit us or even got mad very often—he was like Beckett. Even-tempered and strong-willed. Kept those feelings locked up.”

I nodded. “They’re a lot alike.”

“Anyway, when I look back I can see how Beckett’s overachieving tendencies made sense. He wanted approval and validation, and he learned not to seek it emotionally. His rewards were things like good grades, home runs, scholarships, an MBA, a high-paying job. But none of that filled the hole left in his heart, you know?”

I nodded, wiping a tear. “I don’t think he wants to fill it. I think he guards it with an iron cover.”

She came over and sat next to me. Took my hand. “Don’t give up. It might take some time, but I cannot believe he’s going to watch you walk away.”


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