12. Web of Lies
Web of Lies
I remember the night Beau ran away. The memory is so vivid, so clear, so painstakingly unforgettable.
That night we watched him cross the stage and receive his diploma.
We were all so proud. Daddy was the proudest. They awarded his son a full-ride scholarship to the University of Alabama, his own alma mater.
Roll Tide! It's all we've ever heard. Beau went to a grad party that night.
I dropped him off. It was the last time we hugged. That morning, he was gone.
And we never heard from him again.
Or so I thought.
"What do you mean as soon as you left?" I ask, balling my hand into a fist.
"I called momma." Beau winces, shifting his body into an upright position on the couch. "'Bout five weeks after I left." He scans my distraught features, his own equally puzzled. "She didn't tell you? Really?" I don't need to reply. My fuming features say it all. "Shit... "
"I can't believe this." Shaking my head, I swallow away a bitter taste of disgust. "What did you tell dear momma when you called her?
Did you tell her where you were? Did she know?
" Beau tenses up as he nods. "Seriously?
What...I can't believe she didn't tell me.
I can't believe she sat there for years and watched me cry.
" Beau tries to comfort my heightened anger, but it's no use.
I snap my burning gaze at my brother. "Why didn't you call me ?
" Instantly, like a steaming pot submerged into an ice bath, I pause, asking in a trembling tone, "And why.
.. why did you leave me in the first place? "
"I had to leave, Savvy." Beau releases a long, cathartic breath as if he's been holding his truth in for years. "I couldn't do it anymore. I couldn't handle them anymore."
"What do you mean handle them ?" I ask, frowning. "I know momma and daddy aren't made of peach cobbler and sprinkles, but you always said they weren't that bad."
Beau casts me a knowing look. "Not bad? Savvy, do you really think they weren't that bad?" He clicks his tongue as my frown deepens. "You'll see it soon, Sav. One day you'll wake up and see that those were just lies we told ourselves to keep us from drowning."
"I...I never felt like I was drowning," I whisper, chest aching with vibrating lies. "It wasn't...I mean, they weren't..."
"Sav—" Beau takes my hand, wrapping his fingers around my wrist. A sad, weak smile forms on his face. "Hmm...maybe you found a shore when I was gone."
I pull my hand away, uncomfortable. "I don't know what you mean. "
Beau doesn't elaborate. He has no need. It's a topic we haven't touched since he smashed my scale in with a hammer one night and deleted all my social media accounts.
"Listen, Savvy, I know you might not understand, but.
.." He sighs. "I couldn't keep living that way.
It's like...it's like ever since I could run, dad had a ball in my hand.
And before I even knew what a career was , he had one fucking picked out for me.
He had it all planned out like I was this science experiment, this perfect little replica of his own dreams that never did come true. "
I blink. "But you loved playing football?—"
"I had no choice but to love it," Beau snaps, but his anger isn't directed at me.
"You think I wanted to spend every fucking weekend at practice?
You think I wanted to miss out on dates and parties and a goddamn social life?
No. But I did it. And I still don't know why.
" He closes his eyes, inhaling a long breath.
"Sometimes I think back on those days, and I can't believe I never said shit to him.
I just did whatever he wanted. Always. Like some puppet.
Like his own fucking personal marionette doll.
" Beau's jaw locks with hatred as he meets my hurt gaze.
"I left, Savannah, because he'd never let me cut those strings.
" He nods down at my wrists again. "I'm glad you were able to cut mommas. Even if it was just one."
"But you didn't have to leave, Beau," I state defensively as I absentmindedly rub my wrists. "You could've just deferred 'Bama. You could've taken the summer off?—"
Beau scoffs. "That's what I was planning on doing, Sav. I just wanted one summer. I just wanted a few fucking months to myself. No one telling me what to do, what to eat, what to think. I wanted freedom. Just a little fucking space."
"I don't understand..."
"At the grad party, I met this dude who was road-tripping cross country," Beau explains.
"Cool guy, couple years older. He was, uh—Bobby's cousin or something.
Anyway, he was leaving the next day. Asked if I wanted to roll with him.
" Beau shrugs. "I said yes. That night, I grabbed my wallet and just left. "
"But why didn't you leave a note or a message or something," I say, confused. "You just disappeared."
Beau frowns. "I did leave a note. I left it on momma's vanity. I said, 'Going on a trip. Will call soon.'"
My mouth gapes open. "What the fu—" Jumping off the couch, I pace in front of Beau, unable to freaking process that my parents, my stupid, conniving, lying sack of shit parents, hid this from me all these years.
"You left a note? A note? And momma didn't tell me?
Daddy didn't tell me? What? Why would they do that?
Why wouldn't they tell me anything?" I stare down at Beau. " Why? "
"Oh, you're actually asking me," Beau says in a light tone. "I thought you were just rambling."
My gaze hardens. "This ain't funny, Beau. Momma lied to me for years. I was worried about you for years. She knew that! She knew what I was going through, and she still didn't tell me that you were okay." I sit back down, burying my face in my hands. "Why didn't she tell me? "
"I don't know..." Beau rubs my back, calming me down.
"Maybe...maybe she worried you'd leave too.
" He swallows nervously as I crane my head, peeking at him through my fingers.
"When I called her, I uh— I ran out of money at that point.
I asked her to send me some, but she said no.
She told me that either I come home right away, or I shouldn't bother coming home at all.
I—" He turns his face away from me. "I did ask to talk to you, Sav. I wanted to explain, but..."
"But what?"
"Momma said you didn't wanna talk to me," Beau explains. "She said that?—"
"What?" I seethe. "She said I didn't want to talk to you ?" My vision shakes. "I..."
"I know I shouldn't have believed her." Guilt fills his tone as he continues, "I know that, but.
.." He glances at me. "But I did. I thought you hated me, Sav.
I knew you were probably mad at me for not saying goodbye, and I guess I figured.
..I don't know...it was stupid. Maybe I was just young and naive, but I believed her.
..and I regret it every single day." I wipe an escaped tear off my cheek as I hold Beau's hand.
He smiles down at our clasped fingers. "I'm sorry, Savannah.
I should've called you. I wanted to. I really did.
I picked up the phone so many times, but I always chickened out, and then, somehow.
..years went by, and it seemed too late. "
"I've never hated you, Beau," I whisper. "Sure, there were days where I'd be so angry at you for leaving me, but I never hated you. How could I? You're my baby brother." Scanning his grown-up features and the new artwork on his neck, I sigh. "Guess baby's not the right word anymore, huh?"
Beau lets out a nervous chuckle, cringing. "Not a fan of the tats, I take it?"
"Umm..." I blink, forcing a smile. "They're uh...they're something."
"Polite as ever, I see." Beau snorts, tracing the black and grey realism rose on his neck.
"I don't know...it might sound strange, but this version of me—" He shrugs.
"It feels the most real." He grabs a bottle of water from the floor and takes a sip as we sit in silence for a couple of beats. "Umm..."
"What?"
Beau bites his lip. "What did uh—" He clears his throat. "What did momma say when you told her you uh— found me, I guess?"
I snort. "She said that's nice ." Realization dawns on me. "Oh my God..."
"What?"
"If Momma knew you where you were, and I told her I was coming here, then she must have known you'd tell me that you tried to reach out, and I've talked to her since, and she never once even acted nervous...wow. She's really got no shame, huh?"
Beau blinks. "What?"
"Never mind," I say, sighing. "Just another weave in the web of Kingsley lies.
" I take the bottle of water from Beau and take a swig.
"By the way, momma thinks I've been staying with you all week, so I guess the apple doesn't fall too far from the tree.
Oh, and she doesn't know about"—I motion around the clubhouse—"all this either.
Another lie. I told her you were working in sales. "
Beau chuckles. "Mean you're not wrong. Just a different kind of sales."
"I don't think that's funny, Beau." My gaze floats up to his bullet wound. "That could've easily been your heart."
"Nah, this right here is just part of the job." Beau waves me off. "I'll be good as new in no time."
"And then what?" I ask, lifting a brow. "You're just gonna spend the rest of your life dodging bullets to make a quick buck?"
Beau tenses up. "I'd take a bullet over 'Bama any day of the week."
"You're serious?" I ask. "You really mean that? This? All the shady shit y'all do? Getting shot at? That's honestly better than coming home?"
Beau snorts. "Coming home? Savannah, this is my home. These people are my family."
A tickle in my nose travels to my eyes. "And I'm not?"
"Of course you are," Beau says in a soft tone. "But I owe everything to the Paxtons. If it weren't for JP and his momma, God knows where I'd be."
Sniffling, I ask, "You knew Jesse's momma?"