Chapter Eight

CHAPTER EIGHT

TREVOR

K eeping track of Beau for the past few months has been my newest, most painful hobby. I stalk the Clay Road Farms social media account way more than is healthy. But it’s worth it when every now and then I get a glimpse of Beau in the background of a photo. Visiting Andy’s account is fruitless because I’m honestly too scared about what I might find.

Worry for Beau is constant. About the family that I only spent three days with but felt more welcoming than my own ever had. Most of my days are spent at the gym, working out so long that everything hurts. Eating is perfunctory. Something I do to keep my muscles bulging just how the boyfriends that hire me like them. The nights with fake boyfriends are endless, mind numbing, painful in a way that’s impossible to put to words. Like small cuts slicing away at my soul, which is what I always needed before, but now it doesn’t feel nearly as good as before Beau.

And then one day in October, Claire calls me.

“Hey!” I shout into the phone as I pause the stair climber. “Is there an event going on at the clubhouse this weekend?”

“No,” Claire says firmly which immediately has me on edge.

“Uh.”

“Do you remember Beau Callahan?”

My heart skips approximately ten beats. Maybe this is how I die. By cardiac arrest just from the sound of Beau’s name.

“Yes,” I say, voice an octave too high to be normal.

“He reached out wanting to hire you for his father’s funeral. I had the feeling you might want to know despite being booked for the weekend.”

Oh, God. I dip to my knees on the stair climber, then press my forehead to my knee. Sweat dots my chest and arms, my back too. The ache of a good workout is long gone, only to be replaced with absolute heartache for Beau.

“What’d you tell him?”

“That you’re unavailable.”

“Shit.” I stumble off the machine, then stagger towards the locker room. The phone is slippery in my hand from sweat. I almost forget that I’m even on a call, so distracted with thoughts of Beau.

“Was that a mistake?” Claire asks softly, even a little warmly.

“Can you…” I trail off, then take a deep, clarifying breath. “Tell him I’m available?”

“I can, yes. What am I doing about your booking with Nolan? He’s been consistent about booking you.”

“Benji.”

Claire breathes deeply into the phone. “Benji?”

“Yeah, he’ll do it. He can deal with it.”

A few moments of stilted silence filter through the phone line. I never bail and I never rock the boat. But the idea of passing over just one more day with Beau to spend it with someone else who has an affinity for pain play, well, my heart won’t allow it. Which is entirely new for me. The guys that make it hurt are usually my favorite, not the gentle giants that treat me like I’m as fragile as glass.

“Do you want me to reach out to Beau to let him know?”

“No,” I tell her firmly. “I’ll head there now. Also, only charge him your cut. Don’t take a cut for me.”

“Trevor,” Claire says, voice a frightened murmur. “I hope you know what you’re doing, honey.”

“Everything is fine.”

Except when I hang up with her, I know not everything is fine. And I know that for sure when I get home, hastily pack a bag, grab my keys to my shitty Toyota Corolla, and point my car towards Clay Springs. The seven-hour drive takes me just under five. Probably less to do with speeding and more to do with my total dissociation and need to just… get there.

My heart beats wildly as I slowly pull up to the gate in front of Beau’s property. I didn’t think this through at all. Thankfully, a large truck pulls up on the main road behind me, coming to a stop to investigate.

“Trevor?” a familiar voice calls out.

I lean my head out the window to find Colby standing just outside his truck. When he notices it’s me, his smile widens. He jogs towards my car, coming to a stop by the driver side window.

“Oh wow, he could really use you right now. Are you surprising him?”

I swallow hard against every rotten emotion swelling to the surface. “Yeah, it’s a surprise.”

Colby winks at me, before typing a code into the gate pad. “Be sweet with him. The past few days have been rough.”

I watch him with detached fascination as Colby runs back towards his truck, then disappears across the road to his own property. The gate beeps when it’s fully open, so I take that as my cue to pull on through. The road is more winding than I recall in my dreams. My car comes to a squeaking stop in front of the still all-too-familiar house. I really need to get my brakes checked.

A ragged Beau steps through the front door with a confused look my way. But at the sight of me, he softens like the weight of the world is falling off his broad shoulders. I make a mad dash to him without even grabbing my scant belongings. Beau gratefully slumps against me like he trusts me to hold him up. I pull him tight to my body. Beau might be taller, broader, and physically stronger than me, but I can still easily bear his weight.

“Lets go inside,” I whisper as I gingerly guide him back into the house.

Gently, I push him down onto the couch, and take a seat next to him, pulling him against the curve of my body. His head rests against my chest with all the pain of someone that’s lost the dearest thing to them. I know that pain, know that hurt. Everything inside me demands that I try to heal it, to take away that hurt. All I can do is be here for him when he needs me most.

I play with the dark brown hairs at the nape of his neck. His hair is longer than a few months ago, curling more at the edges. The house is exactly the same though, which I find comforting for some odd reason I can’t explain. Like Beau is too big of a force to change too much. Too steady to be rocked.

Beau doesn’t cry, but I think it’s an almost-thing. I hum some song I don’t know the words to as I comfort him with my touch, gliding my fingers through his hair, tenderly massaging the base of his neck.

My heart cracks wide open for him. The fierce need to make this better, make it easier on him, is stronger than anything I’ve ever felt. I watched him make everything easy for his family for Andy’s wedding. Watched him bend backwards for them. And I know he’s doing that now too. So, I’m going to be his shoulder through the funeral. Then I’ll go back to the clubhouse. Back to my life.

“The agency said you weren’t available,” Beau says softly.

The urge to tell him all my secrets, all my truths, bubbles up inside me. Threatening to boil over like a steam engine barreling towards the end of the tracks. But I can’t, not now, not with him just barely hanging on. Maybe one day, when we find one another again outside of this messiness, but not now. All he needs from me now is my weight to bear the heaviness of his grief. I’m going to be for him what I needed so many years ago.

“It was a misunderstanding. I’m here now.”

Beau rolls his head to look up at me. I push him down until his back is on the couch, so I can tenderly cup his face. His beard’s a little longer than I remember too. More wiry, more wild. I oddly like it. I run my finger under his lip and smile down at him.

“There you are.”

“My dad died.”

“I know.”

Beau shakily covers his eyes with his forearm. “My dad’s gone,” Beau says, voice trembling.

And then Beau’s crying, big, wracking sobs that break my already fractured-to-pieces heart. I carefully wiggle so that I can lie down over his body, pressing my weight down on him. His arms wrap around me, holding me tighter against him as if I can sink into him.

I can’t say how long we lie there as Beau cries, tears thick, chest heaving with barely restrained sobs.

“Can I take care of you , Beau? Tell me how I can do that.”

Beau presses his fingers into the small of my back, tugging me somehow even closer. “Just be here with me until it’s over.”

Brushing my lips across his forehead, I bite my cheek to keep myself from crying. Only the orange hue of light shining through the windows tells me the time. I leave Beau asleep on the sofa, and rummage through his fridge for food. The shelves are almost empty. What’s he been eating? From the state of things, it looks like he's probably not been eating well for the past few weeks.

A flier on the fridge door for a local pizza place catches my eye. That’ll be it. I place an order for delivery and give them the gate code I watched Colby enter earlier. Hopefully, Beau won’t mind. And then I get to work cleaning the kitchen. The place isn’t messy, but I don’t think it’s up to Beau’s usual standards. At least not from what I recall from my last visit.

The pizza arrives just after I finish cleaning. I give the delivery kid two twenty-dollar bills and close the door quietly behind me. Maybe it’s the sound, or maybe it’s the sweet smell of the pizza, but Beau rouses from his short nap with the heel of his hand pressed hard against his forehead.

He blinks at me a few times, then his tired gaze flicks between me and the pizza.

“I thought I dreamt you,” he says, voice dripping with exhaustion.

And that breaks my heart too. “Nope. I’m here. At least until after the funeral.”

Relief washes over him and the tension bleeds from his shoulders.

“Come eat?” I ask gently.

Beau quietly follows me into the kitchen. We don’t even sit down. We just stand around eating pizza slices out of the box. Tiredness radiates off Beau in a way I’ve never felt it radiate off of someone before. All my protector urges rise to the surface seeing Beau half-broken the way he is now.

After he’s eaten a few pieces of pizza, I manhandle him into the bathroom.

“Take a nice hot shower, then we’ll get you into bed to sleep.”

Beau doesn’t even try to argue. I shut the door firmly behind him so that he has privacy. The sheets have seen better days, so I change them after spending an odd amount of time trying to find new ones without violating his privacy. Clean sheets always make me fall asleep just a little bit faster and easier.

Steam floats through the door when Beau pushes it open. He’s in just boxer briefs, gracing me with the sight of his big barrel chest. Still just as beautiful as this past summer.

Gingerly tucking him into the bed, I rush through a shower for myself. The steamy air still smells like him, like blue skies, the outdoors, and everything beside the word strong in the dictionary. Digging around under his sink, I don’t know why I’m surprised to not find a blow-dryer. This is Beau Callahan. So, I forgo the blow-dry and instead haphazardly run Beau’s comb through my hair.

Beau is halfway asleep when I crawl into the bed beside him. He blinks those sleepy dark blue eyes at me and smiles just enough to make my world rotate on its entire axis. I’d do anything to keep him smiling like that. As if just my presence beside him soothes him, he promptly falls asleep.

Sleep eludes me as I watch him. Too wired from the absolutely wild day I’ve had, plus the long drive from Atlanta. My fingers have a mind of their own and trace his broad, expressive eyebrows. Then I scratch at his beard a little, just soft enough to leave him sleeping.

My eyes drift closed as I tenderly run my fingers through his still slightly damp hair. I snuggle up against him, smiling like a loon when he wraps an arm around my waist to tug me closer. With the weight of Beau’s arm around me, I fall into the deepest sleep I’ve had in years.

Gentle fingers combing through my hair wake me. When I blink my eyes open, I find Beau leaning over me, a soft, pleased smile tilting up his plush lips. Without thinking, I lean up to slide my lips against his in a tender kiss. Morning breath be damned.

“Morning,” I say, my voice still sleep husky.

“Morning,” Beau echoes.

“How are you doing?”

A sweet, shy smile tilts his lips up at the corners. His eyes are just shiny enough to worry me. “Better now.”

I can’t let this be about me. Everything needs to be about him. So, I build my walls up higher, so high that I know not even I can climb over them. I wrestle Beau out of bed. Breakfast will be the pizza and eggs that I scrounge out of the fridge. Tried-and-true breakfast of warriors.

We eat in silence on the back porch. Instead of the sweltering high heat and humidity of summer, the air is warm, less sticky. A light breeze washes over us, gentling the warmth of the day. Once Beau finishes his food, I carry it back inside to start on the dishes. Beau stares out into the forest with a contemplative look as I work.

Returning outside, his heavy gaze swings to me. Emotion visibly overwhelms him as he swallows thickly, throat working to hold back his tears. His fingers grip the chair tightly, knuckles white from his strength.

“It’s gonna be alright,” I tell him.

He nods tightly once, then slowly unfurls from the deck chair. My heart does a little skip in my chest as he makes his way over to me. Looping my arms around his strong shoulders, I let my hands hang loose at the nape of his neck. His eyes close in what I like to imagine is relief.

This is caring for someone without wanting anything in return.

And Beau is the only person that could elicit this from me.

I pepper kisses across his face until he relaxes against me, his hands a warm, steady weight on my hips. The warmth of him bleeds through my clothes, until it feels like he’s warming me from the outside in. Frozen glass around my carefully protected heart could melt under Beau’s gentle care. Dangerous. This man could never want me if he knew, no one ever wants me. Love is conditional, earned only by being good, by being perfect.

I shake myself from my morose thoughts. “What do you need from me?”

Beau sweetly nuzzles the side of my face. “Can you just stay here at least through the funeral?”

“I’m already doing that, love.” I skim my nose up his cheek, smiling at his soft sigh. “What do you need me to do? You want me to check on your mom? On Andy? Go to the farm?”

Beau sighs loudly, resting his weary head on top of mine. Exhaustion bleeds from him, and I ache to take it all away. “Just be with me.”

I pull him tighter against me, as if I can pull him into myself. “That I can do.”

Being by Beau’s side, comforting him, isn’t a hard task. Even in his deep sadness, the man is extraordinarily gentle. His family welcomes me back into their arms like I was never gone. Like I’ve always been here, at the farm, a part of their family.

His mother hugs me a little too tight, but I let her. While Beau busies himself in her kitchen, I sit quietly with her on the back porch. Just keeping her company.

“You have an outfit picked out?” I ask her, trying to be as sensitive as possible.

Cindy’s lips lift into a bittersweet smile. “He picked the dress out before he died. It’s light pink with green and pink flowers. He loved it. It made him smile to see me in it.”

“That’s beautiful.”

Emotions choke me. The grief and profound love are so palpable. It’s hard to believe some families are full of this much love for one another. That some people can love their spouse this much, enough to be brave for them in their last days. The very idea overwhelms me. My family was nothing like this close-knit one. Maybe before everything went to shit there were glimpses, but most of the time my family was neglectful at best.

“How’s college?”

I clench and unclench my fingers to derail my thoughts. “Good. Just one more semester.”

“What’s your degree again?” Cindy asks in only the way a mother can. Gentle, but curious.

“Psychology. My goal is to be a licensed clinical social worker. A therapist.”

She sizes me up for a few moments. “My son has always been the strong one, it’s the lot in life he inherited. My pregnancy with Andy wasn’t easy, and he was older by the time she came along. Then she was born with lung issues, so she was sickly.” Her eyes go distant for a few moments, before falling back on me. “I’ve been hard on him, more than I should. Especially through all of this. Made him grow up too fast. You’ll be good to him?”

“Yes.” The promise isn’t a lie either. Despite the fake nature of our relationship, I will be beyond good to Beau. I’ll take care of him for as long as he’ll allow. “He’s a good man.”

Her eyes quickly flick behind us, then back to me. “He’s a great man. Speaks highly of you, you know. Beau’s never settled with anyone before. Never wanted for much. Wanting you means you’re top shelf in my book.”

Warmth suffuses through me at her approval. Unable to bask in her sweetness for another second, I leave her alone outside, and join Beau in the kitchen. I find Beau at the window above the sink, staring forlornly out at his mom. For a moment I wonder if he was listening, but it’s too far away for that. The look on his face is one I haven’t seen yet, not able to parse the thoughts flowing through his head.

“She likes you,” Beau murmurs softly, sounding unusually distracted.

I don’t know how to respond to his statement. But I don’t have to because Beau turns around, grabs my cheeks with his still soapy hands, and kisses me firmly on the mouth. I’m so shocked by the kiss that I barely have a chance to reciprocate before he pulls away. His eyes are closed tight, a deep frown mars his beautiful face. But he stays quiet, as usual. Too many thoughts filling his head to put them into words.

After finishing up dishes, we head back to his house. Beau wants to check on the farm, but I won’t allow him. Employees and other family members can handle that task. I am sure that they’ll be able to set the service up for tomorrow without him hovering over them.

“What am I supposed to do now?” Beau asks, confusion lacing his voice, as we walk back into his house.

“Most common advice is to sit with it.”

He huffs in exasperation. “I don’t want to do that,” Beau says, voice cracking on the words.

I nod, despite not understanding myself. “But that’s how you move forward. You’ve got to feel it, Beau. Let yourself feel it.”

He slowly covers his face with his hands and lets out a rib-breaking, anguished cry. The sort of cry that comes from the very pit of his grieving soul. His heartbroken sobs reverberate through me, to the marrow of my bones, to the pit of my hardened soul. The cry of a man that’s lost something he knows he’ll never have again. To know you’ll never hold that loved one again, never smell their sweet smell, never see the glimmer of love in their eyes when they catch sight of you. It is a pain you can’t know until you live it. I wish Beau wasn’t living it, I’d do anything to spare him his pain. Anything.

Before Beau can crumble to his knees, I carefully catch him, lowering us softly to the ground as I bear his weight. Painful, gut-wrenching sobs tremble and shake through his burly frame. All I can do is hold him. Tears well in my own eyes and a few even dare to fall. But I ignore them. Because this isn’t about me, it can’t be about me, it’s about him. I gently sway Beau in my arms, rocking him back and forth until his sobs slowly quiet to hiccuping cries.

I can’t say how long we sat there in the middle of his living room. Could be minutes, could be hours. All I know is that by the time I’ve got him showered, back in bed, and I’m curled around his sleeping body… I know I’m in deep, deep trouble when it comes to Beau Callahan.