“They wanted a quote. About your ‘extended sabbatical.’ About whether we’re… involved.” I crossed my arms, suddenly feeling exposed. “They implied I might be using you for financial support.”
“Jesus Christ.” He dropped the post puller, closing the distance between us. “Winnie, I’m sorry. I didn’t think—I should’ve known they’d come looking.”
“It’s not your fault. But Beau…” I looked up at him, forcing myself to be honest. “This is what your life is. Reporters. Scrutiny. People who will assume the worst about me because I’m… me. And you’re you.”
“So what are you saying?”
“I’m saying I don’t know if I can do this.” The words came out in a rush. “It’s been a month, Beau. One month. How do I know this is real? How do I know you won’t wake up in six months and realize you made a mistake? That you gave up your whole life for a fantasy?”
“A fantasy?” He looked genuinely hurt. “Is that what you think this is?”
“I think you’re running from something, and I’m convenient. I think you love the idea of this life, but when reality hits—when the reporters won’t stop calling, when your family gets involved, when you realize what you actually gave up—you’ll leave. And I’ll be the idiot who let herself believe it could work.”
“Winnie—”
“I can’t be someone’s phase, Beau. I can’t be the girl you look back on fondly when you’re back in Dallas marrying someone who actually fits into your world.”
He stared at me, jaw tight, eyes blazing. Then he spoke, his voice low and intense.
“You want to know if this is real? If I’m serious?” He stepped closer. “I wake up at 5 AM now and I don’t hate it. I’ve got calluses on my hands from actual work, and I’m proud of them. You think I’m running from something? Maybe I am. But I’m also running toward something. Toward this. Toward you.”
“Beau—”
“I’m not done.” His hands found my shoulders, gentle but firm. “You want to know the difference between you and every other woman I’ve ever known? You don’t need me, Winnie. You don’t need my money or my name or anything I can give you. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met. And yeah, maybe it’s only been a month, but I’ve learned more about who I actually am in that month than in twenty-four years of being Beau Sterling III.”
My throat was tight, tears threatening. “What if it’s not enough?”
“What if it is?” He ducked his head, forcing me to meet his eyes. “I can’t promise you that reporters won’t call. I can’t promise my family won’t be assholes. But I can promise you this, I’m not leaving right now. I’m staying here, whether you want me or not, because this is the first place I’ve ever felt like I belong.”
“You can’t know that after a month.”
“Yes, I can.” His thumb brushed my cheek, wiping away a tear I didn’t realize had fallen. “Winnie. I know it’s fast. I know it’s terrifying. But it’s real. And if you need time to believe that, I’ll wait. I’ll wait as long as you need.”
The words hung between us, raw and honest and impossible to ignore.
“I’m scared,” I whispered.
“I know. Me too.”
“I don’t know how to do this. How to trust this.”
“We’ll figure it out. Together.” He rested his forehead against mine. “But you gotta let me in, Winnie. You gotta stop running.”
I closed my eyes, feeling the weight of his words, the truth of them settling into my bones.
“After Regionals,” I said finally. “After Regionals, we’ll figure this out. But Beau… you have to mean it. You have to be sure. Because if you break my heart, I don’t know if I’ll recover.”
“I mean it,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “I swear to God, I mean it.”
And for the first time in a month, I let myself believe him.
BEAU
Diamonds over dust
Pawhuska, Oklahoma
17:30
