After letting out a heavy breath, he nods in agreement. With a genuine smile, a rare thing for me that I only discovered once I met Beau, I shove him into his bedroom to shower and change out of his work clothes. I throw together a haphazard charcuterie board, then grab a few beers, and make my way towards the hammock in the backyard.
The hammock sways gently in the breeze under my weight. I give one fleeting thought to wondering if we’ll both fit, but I end up not caring. We’ll find a way. Moments later, Beau steps out onto the back porch, hair still slightly damp from his shower. He’s the epitome of perfection, of strength, of everything that makes my bruised heart beat.
He nods his head towards the hammock once he stands beside me. “What’s this, sweetheart?”
“Date night.” I pat the hammock in clear invitation.
The hammock sways dangerously under our joined weight, but it holds, for which I’m forever grateful. He lies back against the netting and tugs me tight against the solid line of his body. He smells like his body wash, woodsy and strong, with the underlying scent of Beau that lingers on my skin after he holds me.
“Thank you,” Beau murmurs softly. It’s clear to me he’s still not used to this, allowing someone to care for him, and that’s fine because I’m still getting used to caring for him too. We’ll find our way together.
“Rough day?” I rub my hand around his stomach, feeling the rise and fall from his breaths.
His fingers curl into my hair, their favorite place to find home. “Thought about my dad a lot. Lots of weight on me at the farm with the upcoming fall season. It’s the first season that I’m heading alone, and I’m scared to fuck up.”
“How many times have you fucked up before?” I ask, countering his worries with truth.
His fingers stutter in my hair, before a soft chuckle vibrates through his chest. “Not many times, future therapist.”
“I’m not psychoanalyzing you; I swear.”
“Just teasing.” Beau presses a hard kiss to my forehead. “I just don’t want to be a disappointment. Want to make everyone happy. The farm means so much to not just my family but everyone that lives here.”
“I can’t ease all your worries, but I can promise you that everyone has a lot of faith in you. And you have a great support system at the farm. It’s going to be great.”
Beau nods shakily against my head, his cheek stubble rubbing my hair. The breeze pushes the hammock into swaying, and the sweet smell of the gardenias, still stubbornly blooming despite the approaching season change, wafts over us. That smell will always make me think of Beau.
“I applied to a few graduate programs today. In the meantime… I need to get a job.”
“No, you don’t.”
I sit up halfway, bracing my forearm against his strong chest. “Beau, I need a job.”
He swipes his thumb across my cheek, staring deeply into my eyes. I feel unmoored by him, how deeply he can see into me.
“Why don’t you take a little break for a bit. Just be here with me. You can start school when you’re ready.”
“I’ve always had a job since I left home.”
Beau’s mouth quirks up. “I’d like this to be your home now. One thing you’ll learn about the South is that there’s no rushhere. Good things come with time. So, take your time figuring out your next step. If you really want a job, I can put you to work at the farm.”
I grimace. “I’m not sure I’m built for manual labor.”
Beau runs his hand down my back, letting his hand come to rest at the small of my back. His exploring hand is gentle, but firm, reminding me of exactly how much I enjoy his touch.
“I can teach you all you need to know about manual labor.”
A laugh bubbles out of me. “Are you flirting with me?”
Red blooms across his cheeks, shattering my heart into a million pieces while simultaneously putting my fragile heart back together. “I’m always flirtin’ with you.”
Ignoring his blatant attempt at distraction, I cuddle deeper against his side. His arm tightens as I release a contented sigh. The setting sun disappears over the horizon, casting the yard in an orange glow. Beau’s body softens beneath me, until I realize he’s sound asleep.
The hammock sways in the breeze, under our heavy weight. I use this time to catalog everything I can about Beau. Dark brown hair with flecks of silver that tell me he’s going to be salt and pepper in a few years. I can’t wait to watch him age, to grow old with him, to love him. Lines around his eyes and mouth tell me that he’s lived a happy life, despite the grief that’s clouded the past few years. The wiriness of his forearms, strength of his fingers, tells me that he can hold me up no matter what threatens to take me down. Everything about Beau is perfect to me, always will be.
Beau startles awake, just as the stars blink to life above us.
“We didn’t even eat the food you made,” Beau points out, voice sleep soft.
