Chapter Twelve

CHAPTER TWELVE

TREVOR

O nly the blood angrily pulsing in the bruises scattered around my body remind me that I’m still alive. Another too-rough client that used me to the brink with my permission. “Stop” so close to falling from my lips but ultimately unable to. Because I deserve every ounce of pain rained down on me. Some sick side of me thinks if I let myself be hurt enough, that’ll make up for all the years I benefited from the money my parents stole.

The pain makes my brain blissfully shut off. No thoughts of anything but the way my body is a vessel to someone else’s pleasure. No pleasure had for myself.

My walk of shame up to the clubhouse is all too familiar. At least this time I have the cover of night to make up for it. I should go back to my own apartment, but I crave the comfort of a friend. Jackson didn’t answer my texts but I’m hopeful he’s there, ready to patch up my wounds with a steady, quiet hand.

I sniffle quietly to avoid being heard and tiptoe toward the living room. My brain is still rattled from receiving the assignment from Davis for Colby, Beau’s cousin. Even the suggestion of it had made me so ill, so dizzy with nausea that I’d done the only thing I could think to do. I passed a client off to Eli. Passing clients off to each other isn’t weird or abnormal, we all do it quite often. When one of us isn't in the mood for a certain client, a certain act, we pass them off to one that we think is better fitted for it.

Normally Claire is none the wiser.

But after I’d orchestrated the handoff to Eli last week, I dove headfirst into every client that requested rough sex. Every client that could wash my brain of Beau’s gentleness. Of the weight of what being loved by a man like that could do to me.

If I’m running, if I’m faking, then nothing can hurt me.

Carefully stumbling toward the living room, I limp toward the light of the television that hopefully means Jackson is awake, but I’m willing to accept Benji if I absolutely must. Instead, I’m confronted with the sight of Claire sitting on the sectional with a glass of wine in her elegant fingers.

“Oh fuck,” I say out loud, irritated to be caught.

Claire’s eyes flash with fear even in the low blue light of the television. “Why are you limping?”

Easing my way down onto the sectional, I aim my gaze towards the television. An old episode of a dating show is playing, a show I know for a fact she’s seen a million times. So, she’s been sitting here just waiting to catch me. I work my jaw a few times, trying to not clench up and close down.

“It was a rough one,” I admit, voice devoid of emotion.

“Should I ban him?”

“Definitely with Eli or Benji,” I say quickly, urgently needing her to understand my underlying meaning. The client wasn’t mean or malicious, but Eli or Benji couldn’t withstand what I’m able to nor should they.

She blinks slowly in understanding, then leans forward to set her wine down on the coffee table. A tremble in her fingers makes my mouth dry with worry. I did that. I made her worry.

“Claire—”

“I’m taking you off rotation.”

I wince at her words, letting my chin fall to my chest in defeat. Less at the words and more at her tone. Claire has always threatened to put me out of commission but never acted on it. A year ago, I probably would’ve argued with her, been spitting with anger even. But there’s something nice about the choice being taken away from me. If I ever get the courage to return to Beau, I can tell him that I’m done. That I'm a better man than I was the first time around. Maybe then I’ll deserve his love, really earn it.

Claire sighs and unfolds her legs to scoot toward me on the plush sofa. I lean heavily in relief against her when she wraps a tender arm around my neck. Curling her fingers into my hair, she scratches my head, and I sigh softly.

“Listen to me,” Claire whispers against my cheek, “you’ve been hurting yourself for years, you need to stop. Please, stop.”

“Okay,” I murmur helplessly, unable to withstand her tender care.

“You’ve graduated, the world is your oyster. Stop letting what they’ve done control your life. You are an amazing person and deserve happiness.”

I rub at my eyes and my fingers come away wet. Great. I’m crying. “I don’t know how to be happy.”

“I think you know exactly how to be happy. Your happiness starts in Clay Springs.”

She’s right but I don’t want to admit it. Just the thought of Beau brings glorious warmth to my chest. Bright warmth suffuses through me like the sun rising after weeks of night, just by remembering his bashful smile. The smile that I earned, that I put there, simply by being real Trevor, not the ghost of Levi.

“He won’t really want me… if he knows…”

Claire gently pats my cheek to bring my gaze back to hers. “Let him decide.”

She brushes a sweet kiss across my cheek, then disappears out of the clubhouse without a word, leaving me alone with my own anxious thoughts. I clench and unclench my hands a few times, focusing on the feel of my tingling palms. Everything hurts when I stand up, my body rebelling against the last few days.

My bedroom is empty as always, devoid of any ounce of personality. I grit my teeth against the loud chatter in my brain as I painstakingly shower away my last client. When I toss myself into the bed, my heart hammers painfully against my rib cage.

I squeeze my eyes shut to imagine Beau, the springs, and the smell of cedar lingering on sheets made soft with time.

The memory of seeing Colby’s name come across the email assignment from Davis still shakes me to my core. I’d done the only thing I could in my anxious state. I passed Colby off to Eli in hopes that it would give me more time, spare me the idea of confronting Beau. Not just for him to know who I really am but the absolute awful thing I did to him by leaving without a word.

But I handed Eli off to Colby and now they’ve fallen in love. Thanks to Eli finding forever love with Colby, I’m finally heading back to Clay Springs. Can’t even get out of it either because that’ll mean more explanation than I’m willing to give. Anxiety like I have never felt before in my life has my hands trembling, mouth dry. I hate this, everything about it.

What if Beau’s found someone that he can make a life with? What if I have to see that… see him in love. Cool, great for him, but I think I’d rather die than see him with someone else. But I’ll also die if he takes one look at me and decides I’m not worth playing for keeps.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Benji hisses while roughly manhandling me into Jackson’s G-Wagon.

“I think I’m having a heart attack,” I hiss back, completely serious.

Benji pauses, eyes frightened. “Wait… are you serious?”

“No!” I whisper-shout.

Jackson pauses at the driver side door, eyes calculating. “What’s going on?”

“I think Trevor is hyperventilating,” Benji says gravely.

Oh. Yes. Maybe that’s what’s happening to me. It feels like no air can get into my lungs despite my frequent intakes of breath. My body feels like it’s slowly dissolving into ash. I’m melting. I bang my head a few times against the door, only stopping when Jackson carefully tugs me away.

Jackson’s fingers grip my chin, forcing me to meet his sharp gaze. “Tell me.”

“Do I really have to go?”

“No.” Jackson releases my chin, folds his arms over his chest, and stares down at me with all the irritation he can seemingly muster. “It’s either come with us or tell us why you’re acting like a rabid raccoon about making the drive down to support Eli.”

Benji gasps theatrically, the little shit. “Are you in love with Eli?”

I pinch the bridge of my nose in irritation. “Okay, hard pass on talking about my emotions with you. Also, two, no, I’m not in love with Eli. That’s disgusting. Anyway, we’re both bottoms.”

“You’re vers,” Benji patiently and irritatingly points out, as if rooting for team Eli and Trevor.

I narrow my eyes. “I’m not in love with Eli. I’m in love with someone else.”

Benji gasps again, this time dramatically placing his hand over his heart. “With whom? Jackson?”

Jackson’s eyes comically bug out of his head in alarm. “Please say psych.”

“I’m not in love with any of you assholes. Jesus. It’s fine. Just get me in the damn car, start to drive, and I’ll be fine. It’ll be fine. Everything is fine.”

Everything is not fine. My phone vibrates without ceasing for the first few hours of the drive and the contact ID says PARENTS’ LAWYER - DO NOT ANSWER. Great. Benji takes the annoying phone from me with a frustrated growl. He huffs through updating my settings so that it’s totally silent, no vibrations or noise at all. But the screen still stares up at me as we drive, a haunting reminder of why I’ve stayed away from Beau for so long. Why I left to begin with. Why I don’t deserve a second of Beau’s time.

The closer we get to Clay Springs, the more unsettled I feel. Fear courses through me at the idea of being denied by Beau. Just the thought of him not wanting me could bring me to my knees, overpowering every other thought in my pea-sized brain. Scenery slowly changes, signaling the fast approach of our destination.

Benji turns around in his seat as we pass the sign for Clay Springs. There’s pity in his eyes and I loathe it.

“You look like you’re going to barf,” Benji announces, fear coloring his voice.

“Do not puke in my car!” Jackson shrieks on the edge of hysteria. The car even swerves a little.

“I’m not going to puke.” Most likely. Probably. I might.

Benji’s eyes turn tender, his hand gently settles on my knee. “You can tell us anything.”

“I’m fine,” I promise him.

He turns around with a disbelieving sigh, just as we take the turn that'll deliver us to Colby’s house.

Jackson carefully parks between two beat-up trucks that obviously belong to relatives of Colby. Both of my friends spin around in their seats to pointedly stare at me.

I plaster a smile on my face. “Leave me alone for a bit?”

They turn towards each other, exchanging some telepathic conversation that I’m not privy to. Without another word, they climb out and head towards the house. My heart races as I sit alone in the car. Everything is so impossible; everything is too much. Time passes slowly as I sit in the dark of the car, attempting to rein in my warring emotions. Nausea overwhelms me so badly that I’m momentarily afraid I might barf. Jackson will violently murder me if I ruin the interior of his prized matte gray G-Wagon.

I climb out of the car and shake my limbs out. What I need is a good old pep talk. I am going to walk in there, look at Beau, and ask him if he still wants me. I’m going to tell him that I’ve thought about him every day for the past three hundred and forty-two days. Yeah, I’ve been keeping count. Once my brain and body connect, my feet carry me up the stairs of Colby’s farmhouse.

A sign on the front door says to come on in through the back.

I’d missed this too.

I walk around the house to the backyard and just freeze like a deer in headlights. So many faces I know are scattered around... and I am obviously the last to arrive. Alright. I was aiming for fashionably late and instead got here dead last.

Eli notices me first, not to my surprise.

But then the heat of Beau’s gaze lands on me with the force of a meteor slamming into Earth. It sends a shiver rolling through my body. One moment Beau’s standing beside Colby on the raised porch, then in the blink of an eye he’s running full tilt towards me.

A moment of pure fear rolls through me until I catch sight of his beautiful face. The joy in his eyes, the grin on his lips, everything about him is blinding. My heart skips ten beats just at the sight of him. The absolute unbridled pleasure of laying eyes on me. How did I ever think he couldn’t really want me?

Beau crashes into me, forcing a grunt from my lips at the slightly too rough contact. Quarterback my ass. This man had to have been a linebacker.

Falling to the ground in a tangle of limbs, his hand gently rests under my head to soften my fall. Even in his frantic need to get to me, he’s gentle to the core. I blink up at him, breath painfully caught between my ribs. He looks exactly the same as I recall so fondly in my dreams. Dark brown hair, with a little grayer than I remember. His beard is trimmed perfectly, and his lips tilt up in a breathtaking smile.

“I’ve been waiting for you, sweetheart.”

I laugh in shock underneath him. “Beau.”

“Sweetheart,” Beau whispers, voice carrying a million emotions all at once. His eyes take in the sight of me, traveling over my face as if making sure it’s really me, before his lips crash into mine.

The crowd of Beau’s family and friends disappear to the back of my mind. Just for a moment, I let him kiss me like I’ve been away at war. The taste of his mouth is like finally going home after years away. Homesickness I didn’t realize I’d had ebbs away just from the onslaught of his mouth against mine. His fingers tighten in my hair, biting into my scalp, reassuring me that this isn’t a fever dream. It’s real, Beau is so real. When he tears away from my lips, I chase after him, unwilling to lose him yet.

He chuckles darkly, eyes full of amusement, gazing down softly at me. “Come back to my house. We gotta talk, sweetheart.”

“Alright,” I agree with obvious trepidation.

Like my weight is easy for him to bear, he easily helps me to my feet, hand firmly gripping mine. Ignoring everyone, we leave the party without a single word uttered between us. This moment needs to be about me and Beau, not anyone else. The anticipation of our looming conversation sends my heart racing dangerously despite our Hallmark-style reunion.

Beau opens the door of his Chevy, then with a gentle hand at the small of my back, pushes me inside the warm cab of the truck. Leaning inside, he carefully buckles my seat belt, and I close my eyes as the familiar smell of him washes over me. Hard work, grass, and engine grease. The smell of home.

I watch him close the passenger door and walk around the front. He dances his fingers along the hood as he walks around the truck, lips tilted up in a beaming grin. He climbs into the driver’s seat, starts the engine, and turns his face to me for a moment as if checking to see if I’m a hallucination. My smile is awkward, a breath I didn’t realize I was holding escapes me when he starts to drive.

Watching Beau drive is still one of my favorite pastimes. Hand loose around the wheel, his strong forearms bared for me to see. The muscles in his forearms leap as he tightens his fingers around the wheel when we meet a few bumps along the gravel road. I have to swallow and turn away to prevent myself from doing something ridiculous like leaning over and kissing his stubbled cheek. Or telling him I’ve thought about him every day for months. Or saying three words that’ll no doubt scare him away.

Before things get out of hand, I sent a quick text to the boyfriend group chat, just to let them know I’m fine. I’m sure our exit was dramatic, and I don’t want them to worry. Not after everything else.

The sight of Beau’s house coming into view sends shock waves of pure relief rattling through me. Four days spent in that house made it feel more like a home than my childhood house ever did. No mansion could ever compare to the white farmhouse with a wraparound porch lined with rocking chairs. Beau has felt like home from the very beginning.

Beau’s eerily quiet as we walk into the house, hushed even as he points at the couch in silent demand for me to take a seat. My feet take me to the couch before my brain can even catch up. That’s the effect that Beau has on me.

“So.” Beau stands like a statue in front of me, arms gently crossed over his barrel chest. “You want to stay?”

A man of few words. “If you’ll have me.”

Rubbing a thoughtful palm over his beard, his eyes stay firmly on me. “Sweetheart, that door has been open to you since last October. Been waiting on you. But you gotta give me some answers. I’ll be damned if you walk in here just to walk out again.”

I swallow loudly. “That’s fair.”

“And if you stay, we’re doing it right. I’m going to date you, woo you, make you mine. For keeps now, sweetheart.”

“Easy as that?”

“Levi.” Beau says my real name like a curse, but there’s an undercurrent of love that stops my anxiety from spiking. I don’t think I like my real name on his lips. “I’m not a complicated man. You want me? You can have me. But there won’t be any going back and forth like last time. I’m not hiring you. This time, you’re mine because you want to be, because there’s something between us that I’ve been waiting for you to see.”

“I saw it too,” I interrupt him, not caring a bit when his eyes flash at me. “I just need to be clear. I felt it last time too. I just… I’m not even twenty-five. I carry so much shit with me and I needed to finish my degree, and it all felt so… much. It felt so much. Don’t you understand?”

“Yeah, I know,” Beau agrees and takes a seat next to me on the couch. He carefully takes my hand in his own, caressing my knuckles with his thumb. “I wish you had just talked to me last time. Tell me why you couldn’t?”

Just rip the bandage off. “My real name is Levi Shaw.”

He stares at me in confusion. “You told me that already.”

A riot of nerves rolls through me. This is Beau. He waited for me, and I came back here for me. To see if we can have something real. So, I owe him the truth, the full truth, so that he can decide what he wants.

“My parents are Turner and Lyla.”

He continues to stare blankly at me. It must be so nice to be so disconnected from national-level news.

“Turner and Lyla Shaw. My parents are serving life in federal prison for swindling thousands of people out of their retirement in a Ponzi scheme. They… took everything from people. Most of the country thinks they’re the worst villains in the world. And they’re right. My parents did evil things, made awful decisions, but sometimes people think that I’m just like them. I mean, they raised me, so I have to be kind of evil too?”

Out of breath by the time I finish, my chest heaves with the weight of my words. But Beau remains staring at me, fingers playing with my hand, gaze warm and intent.

“Can you say something?” I ask quietly.

“Sweetheart, what makes you think what they did is a reflection on you at all? Weren’t you a kid?”

Oh God. Beau makes it sound so simple. Tears well up in my eyes because his words are just so matter of fact. So Beau. Something I’ve struggled with for so many years is just… narrowed down to the truth of one single statement.

“Yeah,” I admit around the rock in my throat. “I was a kid.”

“Well then, you didn’t help them make their mistakes. I think you’re trying to do better, right? You finished school this spring?”

I nod as I take a few steadying breaths. “I did. I also don’t do the boyfriend anything anymore, just so we’re clear.”

“Even if you did, that’s not something I’d have an issue with.”

It’s my turn to aim a confused look at him. “You’d be fine with me fucking someone else?”

He chuckles wryly and shrugs his broad shoulders. “I don’t know about fine, but sex work is sex work. Matters more to me that I’m the one you come home to at the end of the night, the one you say three special words to before bed.”

“Beau.” My lip trembles as I fight back tears. “You’re perfect.”

“Not really.” Beau gives me a sheepish look.

“To me you are.”

“So, if you don’t do the boyfriend thing anymore, what do you do?”

“I graduated with a psychology degree. I want to go on to get my master’s in social work so I can become a therapist.”

Beau smiles that gorgeous, sweet smile at me. “That sounds perfect for you.”

“But there’s online degrees for graduate school… so I can do most of it online. Minus any clinical hours I need. It’ll take some time. But I need to apply… it probably won’t be until next year.”

“And you want to do that here with me?”

My face heats under his scrutiny. I can’t believe I’m talking about uprooting my entire life in Georgia. But there’s nothing left for me there. It’s time to quit the agency, I finished school, and my next step is on the horizon. The next step seems unfairly easy sitting here on Beau’s couch, in Beau’s house.

“If you’ll let me.”

Beau chuckles again, sending my heart on a rapid gallop through my chest. Everything about Beau makes me feel free and light, like I could fly if I really put my mind to it. No one could ever give me what Beau does.

“I’m going to date the hell out of you,” Beau vows, voice low and sure.

“I don’t want to talk about me anymore. I left you at the worst possible time. How are you doing?”

My question seems to momentarily startle Beau. Makes sense to me because I’m sure not many people have checked on him the past few months. My darling, sweet Beau, everyone’s rock but no one is there for him. That’s going to change now that I’m back. I’m going to carry him, just like he’s so willing to carry me.

“I’m… okay.” Beau squeezes my hand tightly. He lets out a careful, slow breath. “I’ve been focusing on the farm. Been working on other projects too.”

“Tell me,” I beg because I need to know everything I’ve missed.

His eyes twinkle with unrestrained joy. “I can show you.”

His large hand envelops my own as he drags me through the house to the back porch. Just as inviting as I remember, even the smell is the same. Sound is a little different now though. The cicadas aren’t oppressively loud, in fact I don’t hear any at all. Their absence is actually sad to me. The sound of the bugs had been comforting. A distraction from the constant racing of my heart when I was in Beau’s dizzying orbit.

But maybe I don’t need the distraction anymore.

Beau leads me out further into the yard, away from the house. Something else is different now. That’s when I spot it. A garden rests between two large oak trees, but it’s not full of plants, instead full of flowers and small bushes. White flowers bloom from the bushes and the scent is heady, like jasmine but with a sharper edge. The warm scent is inherently comforting, filling my lungs until all I can smell is flowers and Beau.

“It’s beautiful, Beau.”

He smiles sheepishly at me again, awkwardly clearing his throat. “I built it for you.”

My eyes go cartoonishly wide. “For me?”

“Yeah. Gardenias are the southern rose… my mama always said they’re the flower of love. So, I planted them here to wait for you. I knew you’d come back to me, so I wanted to have this for you… to show you that I was thinking about you the whole time.”

“Jesus Christ.” I launch myself into his arms with a delighted laugh.

One of Beau’s hands tangles in my hair, the other under my ass to hold me close to him as I wrap my legs tight around his waist. My joyful laugh presses into the warm skin of his neck, full of more happiness than I knew was possible. Four days is all it took to fall for this man, and he waited for me, like a man from a bygone era. Deserving him will be my life’s mission.

Hope blooms in my chest as I gaze down at Beau. Love radiates from him, through his eyes, his tender smile, even in the wrinkles at the corner of his mouth hidden under his unruly beard. Abundant amounts of love reside within him, so much reserved solely for me.

“Sweetheart,” Beau murmurs softly, fingers gently flexing in my hair. “What do you want me to call you? Trevor? Levi?”

“I don’t feel like Levi anymore.” I tilt my head, so his thumb slides along my jaw. He smiles, warm and sweet. “I thought maybe I would, that’s why I asked you to call me Levi that night… but you make me feel like Trevor. I’m the real me when I’m with you.”

“Trevor, then? And sweetheart when you make my heart skip a beat?”

I nod rapidly against his firm grip. A wide grin spreads across my lips when he pulls me down for a palpitation-inducing kiss. It’s difficult to kiss when both of us are grinning, but we make a solid attempt. His beard scratches against my face, and I oddly missed that too. I expect him to carry me into the house, to the bedroom, and make love to me, but Beau always surprises me.

He gently places me back on my feet and carefully fixes my hair with his work-roughened fingers. Seemingly happy with the state of my hair, he pulls away to pluck a gardenia from a bush. One of those smiles that is only ever for me graces his lips as he carefully places the flower between my thumb and forefinger. Gently gripping the bloom, I raise it to my nose to deeply inhale the gorgeous perfume of the ivory petals. It’s silky soft against the pads of my fingers.

“I love it,” I admit, tone close to reverent.

“Good,” Beau says gruffly.

I pull it away and tuck it behind my ear with a content smile. “You going to make love to me now, Beau?”

“No.”

“What?”

Beau just laughs, heading back inside the house without a care in the world. “I said no, sweetheart.”

“What does that mean?” I call after him.

He pauses halfway up the porch stairs. A careful, heated look is aimed at me over his shoulder. “You don’t know what no means?”

“Beau!” I gasp in shock, laughing at his seriousness.

“We’re dating, sweetheart. Call me old fashioned but I don’t fuck on the first date. You can wait.”

I watch, mouth ajar, as he walks steadily into the house, without another look my way. What does he mean? He doesn’t expect…? There’s no way… how long does dating go on in this part of the country? Because I don’t think I can wait too long to have his hands on me again.

Breathless and panting, I burst through the back door of the house. Calmly standing at the counter, Beau patiently sorts a small pile of mail. He sends a curious look my way, but otherwise doesn’t pay me any attention.

“Beau, you can’t be serious.”

“I’m very serious,” Beau says matter-of-factly.

“Beau.”

“Trevor.”

“Not sweetheart anymore?”

Beau turns and leans against the counter, arms crossed over his broad chest in contemplation. “I told you what I want. You’re going to stay here in the guest room, we’ll date, and I’ll woo you. We can talk about physical intimacy in a bit.”

My jaw drops. “You’re actually serious? Why? Why does this matter to you?”

“We skipped a lot of the beginning,” Beau explains carefully. “I want to do it all over the right way. Date you, know you, love you, and then I’ll make love to you. Think you can be patient with me, sweetheart?”

I blow a raspberry in frustration, which only makes Beau’s eye twitch, and a smile curl up the edges of his lips. Visibly fighting laughter, Beau winks at me, before returning to his pile of mail. This is going to be a journey that I know will set the tone for our life together.

“Alright.”

“Good,” Beau says, then comes towards me to pull me into his arms. He sways us a little in the kitchen, hands firm on my hips. “It’s going to be okay. I promise. You trust me?”

I kiss him on the corner of the mouth. “With my life.”

“First things first, we’ll get the bedroom set up for you. You brought enough stuff to get you by for a few weeks?”

“About that…” I trail off and rub awkwardly at my neck. “I rode with Jackson and Benji… I just have a duffle bag. But there’s nothing for me left in Georgia. There’s my apartment but it’s mostly empty… I don’t have much.”

Beau just blinks at me for a few agonizing moments. “You don’t have much?”

Time to keep confessing, I guess. “I make decent money with the agency but between paying for school and donating half my income… there’s not much left over. My apartment is small. All I have really is clothing and that was solely for being a boyfriend.”

“What do you mean donating half your income?” Beau asks, eyes scrutinizing in a way that could probably take me apart, piece by piece.

I anxiously fiddle with the bottom of his shirt, unable to hold his gaze. “There’s this fund that accepts donations for my parents' victims. I donate half my income which ends up being about a hundred thousand dollars a year. It’s not much but it’s the most I can do.”

“How much have you donated over the years?”

I swallow loudly. “Probably around half a million.”

“Christ, Trevor.” Beau shakes his head, then aims a miserable look my way. “Do your parents know this?”

“No,” I answer with a bitter laugh, shaking my head firmly. The idea of them knowing is beyond anxiety inducing.

Beau ignores that, seemingly sensing my dropping mood. “Your small car?”

I aim an irritated look at him. “My car is normal-sized, thank you. We can’t all have giant work trucks, you know? Anyway, it’s still in Georgia.”

“You’ll come to like my trucks,” Beau murmurs, a hint of a tease in his husky voice. Oh . “Here’s the plan. We’re going to get you settled into the guest room, and then we’re going to go to bed separately. I got work tomorrow. I’m up before dawn, and you can join me later at the farm for lunch. If you want.”

“My bag is still in Jackson’s car,” I whisper, breath hitching as Beau presses a line of openmouthed kisses down my neck.

“It can stay there. You can wear one of my shirts tonight.”

“Beau…”

“Shhh.” And then Beau kisses me with so much care my heart cracks at his sweet, undivided attention. I can’t think of anything else but the hot press of his mouth, his strong arms, a tight band around my body, and how maybe, just maybe, home is a person and not a place.