Beau was not my forever.
I wasn’t that lucky.
twelve
HANNAH
“We don’t have to go.”
“Of course, we’re going.” I decided not to address yet another mention of the royalwe. I couldn’t.
Beau and I were discussing the Halloween party as I steamed Clara’s dress. Yes, it might’ve been a little extra to steam a Halloween costume, but I wanted it to be perfect. This was the first and last Halloween I’d have with Clara. With Beau.
“Hannah, you were in a fucking car accident yesterday,” the man in question exclaimed roughly.
I finished with the steamer, switching it off and turning to Beau. Not before taking a calming breath. “I was in a fender bender,” I corrected him.
“Fender benders don’t involve totaled cars and fuckingconcussions,” he returned, his gaze on my head.
He’d been like that all day, watching me, gruff and overprotective.
After I’d had a bath last night—a bathhe’ddrawn me—I’d put on soft PJs and fallen into bed, exhausted. I didn’t even have the energy to say good night to Beau or Elliot, probably a good thing because I couldn’t handle the strange energy emanating from them both.
I’d woken at some time in the night, certain there was a shape in the chair across my room.
“Beau?” I’d murmured, hoping it was him since it was a man-sized shape, and I really didn’t want it to be some intruder.
“Go back to sleep,” came the voice.
It was rough but comforting. My body relaxed at the sound of it, the subtle smell of juniper wafting over me.
I was definitely dreaming.
When I woke in the morning, the chair was empty. I couldn’t be sure I’d dreamed it, since the clothes that had been lying on said chair in question were neatly folded on my dresser.
I didn’t think about that.
Luckily, Clara helped distract me. She had been up before me, too excited about Halloween to sleep.
She’d been appropriately concerned about the small cut on my head, having been filled in by Beau on the accident. Her tiny hands had trailed over it with an extraordinary gentleness that had made my eyes well. She laid a special kiss on it then had ensured I “take it easy” while she fussed over me.
Then there was Beau.
Cursing more than I’d ever heard. Constantly watching me, keeping track of when I could have my next dose of painkillers.
In my mind, I went over the man he was the night before. Furious, violent, intense. Not afraid to touch me. Before, he had been so careful not to even share the same air as me.
He had not reverted back entirely, but I could feel the distance between us like a gaping chasm.
Trying to figure out what was going on between us—if anything was even going on—was going to do nothing but make my head hurt. So I focused on Clara, got her in her costume, then put on mine so we could head to Nora’s party. That was after I’d won the argument with Beau about going at all.
“Wow!” Clara lit up when I finished the braids on her wig, twirling in the dress I’d made.
It was pretty impressive, if I did say so myself. My sewing skills had been born out of necessity. My mother didn’t bother with buying me clothes. There often wasn’t money when I grew out of things, ripped them. Thankfully, the grandmother I never met had left an old sewing machine in a storage closet. I’d unearthed it then checked out books on sewing and patterns at the library.
I’d combed Goodwill for cheap clothes, curtains, fabrics, whatever I could find. At first, my clothes looked exactly what they were—homemade by a barely competent fifth grader. I got teased. So I got better. And better.
That’s how Cole and I became friends. He was obsessed with a shirt I’d made; he demanded I make him one. He hadn’t worried about what people would say about what he wore or how he acted. I was so amazed by him.
