Benji’s eyes turn tender, his hand gently settles on my knee. “You can tell us anything.”
“I’m fine,” I promise him.
He turns around with a disbelieving sigh, just as we take the turn that'll deliver us to Colby’s house.
Jackson carefully parks between two beat-up trucks that obviously belong to relatives of Colby. Both of my friends spin around in their seats to pointedly stare at me.
I plaster a smile on my face. “Leave me alone for a bit?”
They turn towards each other, exchanging some telepathic conversation that I’m not privy to. Without another word, they climb out and head towards the house. My heart races as I sit alone in the car. Everything is so impossible; everything is too much. Time passes slowly as I sit in the dark of the car, attempting to rein in my warring emotions. Nausea overwhelms me so badly that I’m momentarily afraid I might barf. Jackson will violently murder me if I ruin the interior of his prized matte gray G-Wagon.
I climb out of the car and shake my limbs out. What I need is a good old pep talk. I am going to walk in there, look at Beau, and ask him if he still wants me. I’m going to tell him that I’ve thought about him every day for the past three hundred and forty-two days. Yeah, I’ve been keeping count. Once my brain and body connect, my feet carry me up the stairs of Colby’s farmhouse.
A sign on the front door says to come on in through the back.
I’d missed this too.
I walk around the house to the backyard and just freeze like a deer in headlights. So many faces I know are scattered around... and I am obviously the last to arrive. Alright. I was aiming for fashionably late and instead got here dead last.
Eli notices me first, not to my surprise.
But then the heat of Beau’s gaze lands on me with the force of a meteor slamming into Earth. It sends a shiver rolling through my body. One moment Beau’s standing beside Colby on theraised porch, then in the blink of an eye he’s running full tilt towards me.
A moment of pure fear rolls through me until I catch sight of his beautiful face. The joy in his eyes, the grin on his lips, everything about him is blinding. My heart skips ten beats just at the sight of him. The absolute unbridled pleasure of laying eyes on me. How did I ever think he couldn’t really want me?
Beau crashes into me, forcing a grunt from my lips at the slightly too rough contact. Quarterback my ass. This man had to have been a linebacker.
Falling to the ground in a tangle of limbs, his hand gently rests under my head to soften my fall. Even in his frantic need to get to me, he’s gentle to the core. I blink up at him, breath painfully caught between my ribs. He looks exactly the same as I recall so fondly in my dreams. Dark brown hair, with a little grayer than I remember. His beard is trimmed perfectly, and his lips tilt up in a breathtaking smile.
“I’ve been waiting for you, sweetheart.”
I laugh in shock underneath him. “Beau.”
“Sweetheart,” Beau whispers, voice carrying a million emotions all at once. His eyes take in the sight of me, traveling over my face as if making sure it’s really me, before his lips crash into mine.
The crowd of Beau’s family and friends disappear to the back of my mind. Just for a moment, I let him kiss me like I’ve been away at war. The taste of his mouth is like finally going home after years away. Homesickness I didn’t realize I’d had ebbs away just from the onslaught of his mouth against mine. His fingers tighten in my hair, biting into my scalp, reassuring me that this isn’t a fever dream. It’s real, Beau is so real. When he tears away from my lips, I chase after him, unwilling to lose him yet.
He chuckles darkly, eyes full of amusement, gazing down softly at me. “Come back to my house. We gotta talk, sweetheart.”
“Alright,” I agree with obvious trepidation.
Like my weight is easy for him to bear, he easily helps me to my feet, hand firmly gripping mine. Ignoring everyone, we leave the party without a single word uttered between us. This moment needs to be about me and Beau, not anyone else. The anticipation of our looming conversation sends my heart racing dangerously despite our Hallmark-style reunion.
Beau opens the door of his Chevy, then with a gentle hand at the small of my back, pushes me inside the warm cab of the truck. Leaning inside, he carefully buckles my seat belt, and I close my eyes as the familiar smell of him washes over me. Hard work, grass, and engine grease. The smell of home.
I watch him close the passenger door and walk around the front. He dances his fingers along the hood as he walks around the truck, lips tilted up in a beaming grin. He climbs into the driver’s seat, starts the engine, and turns his face to me for a moment as if checking to see if I’m a hallucination. My smile is awkward, a breath I didn’t realize I was holding escapes me when he starts to drive.
Watching Beau drive is still one of my favorite pastimes. Hand loose around the wheel, his strong forearms bared for me to see. The muscles in his forearms leap as he tightens his fingers around the wheel when we meet a few bumps along the gravel road. I have to swallow and turn away to prevent myself from doing something ridiculous like leaning over and kissing his stubbled cheek. Or telling him I’ve thought about him every day for months. Or saying three words that’ll no doubt scare him away.
Before things get out of hand, I sent a quick text to the boyfriend group chat, just to let them know I’m fine. I’m sureour exit was dramatic, and I don’t want them to worry. Not after everything else.
The sight of Beau’s house coming into view sends shock waves of pure relief rattling through me. Four days spent in that house made it feel more like a home than my childhood house ever did. No mansion could ever compare to the white farmhouse with a wraparound porch lined with rocking chairs. Beau has felt like home from the very beginning.
Beau’s eerily quiet as we walk into the house, hushed even as he points at the couch in silent demand for me to take a seat. My feet take me to the couch before my brain can even catch up. That’s the effect that Beau has on me.
“So.” Beau stands like a statue in front of me, arms gently crossed over his barrel chest. “You want to stay?”
A man of few words. “If you’ll have me.”
