Z was his father's personal assistant. His Dallas lifeline. The guy who managed the chaos of the Sterling empire. If Z was calling on a Saturday, it wasn't for a casual chat.
Beau hesitated, his thumb hovering over the phone like it was a live grenade.
"You gonna answer that?" Cassie asked, her tone lighter now, sensing the shift.
"I... don't know." His voice was tight, uncertain. "It's probably nothing. He calls sometimes just to check in on scheduling or PR stuff."
"Answer it," I said firmly, nudging him. "We'll be quiet. We'll shut up completely. Right, Cassie?"
Cassie mimed zipping her lips, locking them, and throwing away the key with exaggerated drama.
Beau glanced at me, searching my face, then sighed. He pulled the truck over onto the gravel shoulder, dust billowing up around us as the engine idled. "Okay. But if this is about some Dallas gossip, I'm hanging up."
He swiped to answer, putting it on speaker. "Z? What's up?"
"Beau."
Z's voice crackled through the speaker, and immediately, I knew it was bad. His usual easy humor, the polished professional tone, was gone. It was replaced with something heavy. Serious.
"Hey, man. I... I don't know how to say this, so I'm just gonna say it. Your dad's in the hospital."
The world tilted.
Beau's face went pale, the blood draining away instantly. His knuckles went white where they gripped the steering wheel. "What? What happened? Is he—"
"He's alive. Stable," Z said quickly. "But he had a heart scare this morning. Chest pains, shortness of breath, left arm numbness. Your mom called an ambulance, and they took him to Methodist. The doctors are running tests, but they're saying it's stress-related. Angina, maybe a mild myocardial infarction. Not a massive heart attack, but... close. Too close."
Z paused, his voice softening. "Beau, you need to come home. Even if it's just for a day or two. Your mom's a wreck, and your dad... he's asking for you."
Beau closed his eyes, his head falling back against the headrest. "Fuck."
"I know. I'm sorry, man. I know the timing is shit, but—"
"No, it's fine. You're right. I need to... I'll figure it out." His voice was hollow, distant, like he was already halfway to Dallas in his mind. "Thanks for calling, Z."
"Anytime. Text me when you land, yeah?"
"Yeah. I will."
Beau ended the call. The phone dropped into his lap.
For a long moment, no one spoke. The radio played softly in the background, oblivious to the bomb that had just detonated in the cab. The dust settled around the truck, choking out the sunlight.
Cassie broke the silence first, her voice uncharacteristically gentle. "Beau... I'm so sorry. That's—shit. That's awful."
"He's fine," Beau said mechanically, staring straight ahead at the empty road. "He's stable. It's just... stress. My mom probably exaggerated. She does that."
I turned to face him fully, my hand finding his, lacing our fingers together. "Beau. Look at me."
He didn't move.
"Beau." I squeezed his hand.
He finally turned, his eyes wide and panicked.
"You need to go," I said softly.
"Winnie, I—"
