“Beau, how about you walk it off? Take Hannah home,” the officer watching said calmly, as if there wasn’t someone being assaulted right in front of him.
The officer was older, obviously familiar with Beau.
Beau didn’t move, still holding on to the quivering man, a rage in his eyes I’d never seen before.
“Beau,” I said quietly.
Beau jolted, looking at me. The second our eyes locked, he turned back to the man, gave him a withering stare, thendropped him. He nodded to the cop standing by before coming back to me as if nothing had happened.
Beau was walking us slowly, hand pressed to my lower back as if he expected me to fall. He led me to the passenger door, opening it.
“I can?—"
My words were swallowed by his hands on my hips, lifting me into the cab as if I weighed nothing.
Then he leaned over to buckle me in.
I stopped breathing.
“I can buckle my own seat belt,” I informed him, my voice little more than a whisper.
He hovered where he was, his large body half draped over mine, tilting his head to look at me. I jerked when our eyes connected. Beau’s gaze was always fixed on me. Glittering with annoyance, sometimes need. But never this. Never fear.
“Ineed to be the one physically securing you, Hannah.”
I blinked rapidly, wondering if this was a symptom of a concussion I hadn’t read about, hearing Beau Shaw saying impossible things.
He stayed suspended there for another moment before pushing back, closing the car door slowly.
I tried to steady my breathing as he rounded the truck. I tried to concoct reasons to explain away this behavior. Tried to wrestle away the warmth I felt in my bones despite my shitty coat.
I tried to stifle my sigh of relief when Beau got in the truck, fighting to ignore the feeling of safety that covered me like a blanket.
The truck started with a rumble, then he took off driving.
“You just assaulted someone. In front of a cop,” I said finally, my brain slowing down.
Beau was strangling the steering wheel. “Wouldn’t call that assault, Hannah. What I wanted to do to him might’ve been.” The ire I’d seen in his gaze lingered in his tone too. Violence. I hadn’t known Beau was capable of that. Yeah, he was gruff, sometimes straight up hostile with me, but never truly scary. I’d never been afraid for my safety.
This man wore a tutu while dancing with his daughter. He was not violent. I’d thought his muscles were for show only.
Apparently not.
I rubbed my temples. “I’m not sure what I should say to that,” I said quietly.
He stared straight ahead. “He was negligent, he could’ve fucking killed you.” Beau slammed his fist onto the dashboard. “Damaged you forever. Scarred you. Because he couldn’t pause forthree secondsat a stop sign. Three seconds could’ve—” He cut himself off, choking out words I couldn’t ever have even imagined him saying. He shook his head.
I squirmed, the depth of his outrage tangible. Surely this was connected to Clara’s relationship with death, not related to me personally. The reaction was so excessive.
He took an audible breath. “Where’s Lori?” he asked. “Is she okay?”
“Finn caused a bit of a scene to get her to the hospital,” I said slowly. “Though she did faint.” Worry crawled up my spine. “She’s pregnant,” I added quietly.
Beau blinked in surprise. “By whom?”
I shrugged. “No one good.” I hoped the baby was okay. With my medical knowledge, I knew the odds were on her side. The accident wasn’t severe, and babies were resilient, even in the womb. But I thought about how determined she was to make a life for herself, and I felt a bit of Beau’s ire. A whole future could be washed away because someone didn’t want to obey a simple traffic law.
“Finn will take care of her.” Beau stated matter-of-fact. As if Finn had magical powers.
