Chapter One

CHAPTER ONE

BEAU

L onely seems to be my default state. Maybe a little ironic considering I’m constantly surrounded by family. But somehow the loneliest I feel is in a room full of loved ones. Looking back to childhood, that odd feeling of loneliness was present even then. I’m always an outsider looking in. Just an onlooker to everyone else’s life.

One hundred bucks that no one would ever think I feel that way. Strong Beau. Reliable Beau. Perfect son Beau. Former high school quarterback star Beau. The one that gets called when a friend needs help moving. The one that steps up to run the farm when the elder family members start dropping like flies.

Sometimes I ache to be the one that gets cared for. The person that someone else makes sacrifices for to make happy. But people take one look at my six-foot-five frame, my easy nature, and assume that I am never in need of anything. Someone that takes up as much room as me could never need to be cared for, to be loved gently. My entire life has been a cycle of helping everybody else, without anyone thinking of me. Why would it change now?

The truck rumbles beneath me as I head down the familiar gravel road that leads to my parents’ property. It’s not far from mine, we all live within ten minutes of each other. My cousin Colby even lives right across the street from me. A fifteen-minute walk in country terms.

A few months ago, I took over running the family farm, Clay Road Farms. The farm has been in business for over a hundred years. Providing fresh produce to the region along with seasonal U-pick of strawberries, blueberries, peaches, and our renowned sunflowers. The land is my safe place. Growing up here, running free on soil that belongs to me, to my ancestors, rooted me to this land in a way I can never explain. Rooted me to my family.

Which is why everything about what’s happening to us now is so emotionally crippling. At least for me.

Pulling into the long driveway, I park just outside my parents' large farmhouse, right behind my sister’s beat-up green truck. For a few moments I sit quietly, taking it all in, with all the weight of a bomb sitting on my chest. Just months until it all explodes. I blink back tears of frustration, of sorrow, then take my hat off to run my hands through my still-sweaty hair. Days start early and end late at the farm, leaving me beyond exhausted most days. Fatigued to the very bone.

And now my dad.

After steeling myself, I climb out of the truck to head into the house. Heart viciously pounding against my ribs, I quietly push the front door open. Everything about the house is the same as always. Warmth and love and a million different memories that are impossible to narrow down to a handful of favorites. So many memories that bring me wild amounts of joy, stacked right on top of each other, but new ones that bring immense grief filter through and infiltrate the happiest moments of my life.

The sound of Andy’s harsh sobs echo around the house, pulling me out of my reverie. Andy crying has always broken my tender heart, making me want to burn the world down to stop her tears. A big brother’s job, my mama always said. Andy doesn’t cry much now that she’s an adult, but when she does, the need to fix it is almost insurmountable. The fact I can’t fix it this time tears my heart apart with awful grief.

“Daddy, please.” Andy’s whispered plea is so full of pain that it almost brings me to my knees. But I hold firm and continue into the living room.

Andy and my dad sit together on the large sectional, her head resting on his chest, tears soaking through his shirt. Mom looks on from the kitchen, a mug of tea in her trembling hand. They were supposed to wait for me. That was the deal.

Dad’s terrified gaze lands on me. The absolute pain and anguish on his face silences all of my own fears, all of my own needs. I’ve got to fix this.

“Andy,” I whisper softly as I slowly kneel in front of her.

Andy sniffles loudly, then turns her stormy blue eyes towards me. Crimson splotches dot her freckled cheeks, her dark curls soaked with fallen tears. Taking her hands in my own, I squeeze them tight, and aim the most affectionate smile I can muster towards her.

“Pops made his choice. We gotta respect it, darlin’.” My voice comes out even, despite the waves of grief crashing against the shore inside me. Andy and Mom need my strength right now. They need a strong Beau, protector Beau, there’s no room for me to fall apart too.

“It’s just not fair.” Andy’s bottom lip trembles. Another tear slowly slides down her cheek.

“Who told you life was fair?” I repeat the family motto with a gentle wink.

The phrase startles a wet laugh out of her, and she angrily wipes her tears away with the backs of her hands. Thankfully, the tension dials down just a little, but Andy still clings tightly to Dad’s shirt. His fingers lovingly sift through her long brown curls, untangling the knots that have gathered from her day. A few moments later, Mom wanders in with a tray of cookies and glasses of lemonade. None of us are hungry or thirsty, but we put on the show, acting like our world isn’t falling apart.

Once Andy and Mom flee to the back porch, I turn my gaze back to Dad. Exhaustion flows from him in huge waves. He’s more tired than I’ve ever seen him. Months of cancer treatment have turned the strongest man I know inside out. The colon cancer diagnosis had been out of the blue. We’d thought for sure that with radiation and chemotherapy he’d be just fine but… when one makes plans, God laughs.

“After the wedding… we’ll get with hospice,” Dad tells me, eyes distant and empty.

“You’re sure?” I ask, voice a hushed whisper.

Dad nods once, swallowing slowly. “It’s how I want to go. I want to go gently, quietly, with all of you around me. I’m so tired, Beau.”

“I know, Pops. I know.”

“You’ll have to step up, Andy and your mama are going to need you now more than ever.”

I nod quickly. “I know. They can always count on me.”

Dad’s gaze softens, his fingers linking with mine over his thin thigh. “You’ve always been the strong one. The good one. We never had to worry about you. I know you’re going to do right by them and the farm, but you’ve got to promise me you’ll think of yourself sometimes too. Life is so beautiful when you let love in, Beau. So precious. And it goes by so, so fast. Do you understand?”

“I understand, Pops. It’s alright.”

Standing slowly, I sit on the couch beside him, tossing my arm over his shoulder to hold him close. Pops has always been the only person closest to my height and width, but now he seems so small, so fragile in my hold. My heart does another dangerous dip and dive, stomach knotted with nerves, but I push it down where it can’t hurt me.

I hold him for many long quiet moments, just listening to him breathe. Thinking about how one day I’ll forget about the sound of his soft breaths, the smell of his cologne at the end of the day, the hearty chuckle when he finds something particularly funny.

One day he’ll just be a memory, and I’ll be lonelier than ever.

“You got a date for Andy’s wedding?” Mama asks me as I stand in the doorway of her office at the farm.

I wince at the question. “Not yet.”

“It’s in a month,” she reminds me, a sour look on her face.

I know she’s thinking about how time is slipping through our grip. Andy’s wedding, then however many months we have with Dad afterwards. Time is moving so fast, only to slow to a crawl afterwards.

“I’ve been talkin’ to someone online. I’ll invite him.” The lie just slips out. I’m not sure what really possessed me. Maybe it’s the idea of Pops worrying about me, Mama being stressed. I don’t know. But the lie doesn’t feel quite as wrong as I expected.

“Really?” Mama asks, eyes lighting up with curiosity.

“Just for a little bit. It’s long distance.”

“Long distance?” Mama repeats skeptically.

“Yeah, mostly over the phone. That sort of thing.”

Mama hums and eyes me shrewdly, all the weight of a stare only a mother can truly give. “Beau, you’ve been my son for thirty-six years, and you’ve never been one for many words. How do you date someone mostly over the phone?”

The little dig isn’t unusual, by now I’m not sure people think it’s a dig when they talk about my lack of talking. Most of the time I don’t have much to say. A man of action instead of words, most of my teachers in school used to write on my report card. Even my football coach liked that about me, especially when I came out. Easier to ignore the elephant in the room if the elephant isn’t blabbering about it. It probably helped that I was bigger than most of our linebackers even back then.

“I can talk enough when I need to, Mama. Anyway, you got those orders for the new sprinkler hoses in lot thirteen? We talked about it a few weeks ago. I'm afraid the blueberry bushes will die if we don't get it fixed.”

“On back order,” she murmurs distractedly, face turned towards the computer screen. “I’ll try another vendor. I meant to tell you… it just slipped my mind.”

Now’s the time to mention the other thing I know she won’t like. “Have you thought about taking the next few months off? Anna can cover the front office in the meantime.” After all, the girl has been shadowing my mother since high school.

Letting out a weary sigh, she throws herself back into her office chair. Her normally vibrant red hair is a messy nest on top of her head. I’m not sure she’s even brushed it recently. Dark circles rest under her eyes. For the first time in my life, I can’t fix something for the people I love most. And that in itself is enough to bring me to my knees.

Leaving Mama to it, I head back to the front office. Everyone greets me with friendly faces, but there’s still that annoying element of pity in their eyes. What am I going to do? Mama will be expecting me to have a date for the wedding now. Probably much to her relief after spending years harping on me to date, to get out there, to find someone.

It’s not like I don’t like dating. I just don’t trust most people. The times I have tried to date haven’t exactly gone well. People take one look at me and expect one thing. But my heart aches for something else. I ache for someone to hold me like they cherish me. For someone to take on the world with me when life is just a little too hard to bear. But most days I’m not sure that person exists. So maybe, I should fake happiness. Like I fake everything else.

With my mind made up, the farm disappears behind me in a cloud of dust. The setting sun dips below the trees along the road, casting orange and pink hues along the earth that I know better than the back of my hand.

An empty house greets me. Like always. Sometimes my most fervent, slightly frightening dream is to come home to a house with someone waiting on me. A smile, a kiss to my cheek, and arms that can hold me when vulnerability hits me. That’s a landslide of a dream though, one that I’ll keep dreaming, until the loneliness consumes me.

After a few chilled beers on my back porch, my fingers have a mind of their own. Googling about fake boyfriends is about as easy as one would imagine. Only books appear when I search, which is frustrating. I’m not much of a reader. Some of them do look entertaining though.

Sidetracked.

An hour of searching later, a social media website for a company called The Boyfriend Experience comes across my phone. Interesting. It seems mostly legitimate. A service that provides fake boyfriends for weddings, work events, and even just for companionship. The young woman that owns the place seems friendly enough. She’s got tight blonde curls and a sweet smile that eases a lot of my discomfort at the idea of doing something so far-fetched.

What if everyone figures out that I’ve hired someone? The only person that might see through me would be Colby, but he’s been so caught up in his own grief over the loss of his husband that maybe it’ll slide right by him. Maybe I can convince everyone I’m happy, that someone loves me. If I can give my dad just an ounce of peace before he passes, wouldn’t it all be worth it?

I’m not much of an impulsive person but I fill out the survey, type up an email, and send it off without a second thought. The silence of my house has never been so loud. So deafening. Even the cicadas outside seem quieter, hushed after my quick decision. But I know it’s the right one. If only to get me through the wedding, so no one wonders for a minute how I’m doing.

Not that they would wonder. After all, I'm strong, steady Beau. The one that never falls apart.