The fight had gone out of him.
“I guess that’s why I can’t wrap my head around Franklin. He’s not Dad. He can’t be Dad. But she loves him. And that’s fine.” He ducked his head when Gianna shot a searching glance his way.
“It really is,” he told her. “But it means she could get hurt again. And I’d do anything to make sure she never goes through that again.”
Carter and Jax absorbed it all. The hurt was palpable.
“It almost broke her and that almost broke me,” Beckett said quietly. Silence descended on the kitchen.
“Good,” Gia said, breaking the silence.
“Good?” Beckett’s hands clenched to fists at his side.
“You finally said what you needed to say instead of keeping it all locked up,” Gia nodded. “Let me ask you this. Do you resent your brothers for not being here when you needed them?”
Beckett looked from Carter to Jackson. There had been a time when he had. When he was so tired of carrying the burden alone. But his brothers, he learned, had burdens of their own.
He shook his head. “Not anymore.”
“Good,” Gianna said again. “The way it looks is that each of you had your own path to follow and they all brought you back here. So now it’s up to you to decide what to do with that.”
“Where are you going?” Beckett demanded when she started for the kitchen door.
“I’m taking my daughter to a bachelorette party.” She bustled out the door and down the hallway, returning a moment later with Aurora.
Beckett followed her out the door and onto the back porch. “Don’t you want to know what happens?”
“I already know,” Gianna said, pausing as Aurora skipped down the steps and scampered toward home.
He snagged her wrist and pulled her back to him. “Tell me.”
“You’ll make the right call,” she said quietly, staring into the middle of his chest refusing to meet his gaze. “Because you’re Beckett Pierce and you have the biggest, kindest heart. And as much as you want to protect your mom from pain, you’d rather see her happy. Now, go make your dad proud.”
This time she raised her gaze to his. He could see tears swimming in her eyes, but didn’t know why.
“Gianna.” He didn’t know what else to say. It was only her name on his lips.
“You’re a good man, Beckett. You’ll do the right thing. Or I will make Trudy look like a walk in the park.”
It had the makings of the lowest key bachelorette party in history. Gia opened up the studio to Summer, Joey, Phoebe, Annette, and a few of the ladies from town for a yoga class, snacks, and bridal shower.
She couldn’t have been worse company.
While Aurora helped Summer attack her giant pile of wedding and baby gifts, Gia stood in the corner and sulked into her wine glass.
“What the hell is your problem?” Joey sidled up next to her with a plate of crudités. “Also, why is there no meat here?”
“Men are idiots, Joey. Complete and total idiots with no regard for anyone else’s feelings,” Gia ranted.
“Are men behind the no-meat thing?”
They applauded politely when Summer unwrapped a jumble of macramé.
“Oh! Is this a plant hanger?” she asked, trying to hide her confusion.
“No, dear,” Elvira Eustace giggled. “It’s a baby swing.”
Summer held up her treasure and smiled widely for the camera. “It’s wonderful. Thank you so much.”
“Ten bucks says she puts the kid in that and they’re flat on the floor in less than thirty seconds.”
“I’m not taking those odds,” Gia agreed.
“So you were saying something about men being idiots?”
Gia looked over to where Phoebe and Annette had their heads together over a set of lumpy, handmade mixing bowls. “I can’t say much here.”
“How much can you say at Shorty’s in half an hour?”
“I can’t take my daughter to a sports bar.” Gia rolled her eyes and felt the slightest bit guilty that she had considered it for a second.
“You’re not,” Joey said. “Phoebe’s taking Rora back to your house after this shindig wraps up. When Paul comes home from Beckett’s, she’ll head out. She gave me fifty bucks and told me to buy ourselves a bottle of something strong and Summer every fried menu item.”
“God, I love that woman,” Gia sighed.
Shorty’s was Blue Moon-famous for wings and pool tournaments. And Gia could think of no better place to unwind.
“I’m a built in designated driver,” Summer screeched over the twangy country someone played on the jukebox. “So you all have at it.”
Julia from OJ’s cracked open a drink menu. “No breastfeeding tonight!” she announced cheerily. “Ed, my friend,” she said to the bartender. “A dirty, dirty martini for me and whatever these lovely ladies want.” Her pink tipped silver blonde hair shimmered under the bar lights.
“Cranberry juice for me,” Summer sighed. “And a cheese quesadilla. Oh, and the fried pickle chips. To start.” She smiled prettily at him.