34. Beau
34
BEAU
Sunday dinners at Ma and Dad’s are a constant—an anchor in the middle of my chaotic life. Rain or shine, we all show up. Well, most of us. Abby hasn’t made it to one in what feels like years, and part of me wonders if that’s why Ma started insisting on these dinners in the first place.
Growing up, we had dinner together as a family almost every night. But there was a time, after we’d all left the nest, when Ma seemed content to let Sunday dinners slide. Then Abby moved away, and suddenly Ma declared Sunday dinners were sacred.
Not that I mind. It’s a chance to catch up, eat great food, and sit with the people who know me best. Even if sometimes I wish they didn’t.
I jog up the walkway, the warm glow of sunset casting Ma’s flower beds in a golden light. Her irises sway lazily in the breeze, the colors vivid against the dark green leaves. The front door is unlocked, as always, so I let myself in, the smell of meatloaf and roasted garlic hitting me square in the chest.
“Hey, Ma!” I call, heading for the kitchen.
“Beau!” Her voice is warm and bright as she turns from the stove, her cornflower blue apron tied neatly around her waist. She pulls me into a tight hug, the familiar vanilla and lavender scent of her laundry detergent wrapping around me.
“Hey, Ma,” I say, chuckling. “Smells amazing in here.”
“You’re in a good mood,” she says, pulling back and patting my cheek. Her eyes narrow, scanning my face with practiced precision. “What’s got you grinning like that?”
“Just a good day, Ma,” I say, grabbing plates from the cabinet to avoid her digging deeper. “What’s for dinner?”
“Meatloaf and mashed potatoes. Your father’s favorite.” She turns back to the oven, fiddling with the light button. “I even tried adding that marshmallow fluff your sister used once in the sweet potatoes. We’ll see if it passes muster.”
“It’ll be great,” I say, stacking the plates in my hands.
“Yes, well, I thought I’d try something new. I’m not sure I can do half the things she does, but I’m trying,” she says, moving back to the stove. She bends down, looking inside without opening the oven door.
There’s something a little off about her tone, but I don’t especially feel like wading into whatever is going on between Cora and Ma tonight, not when I’m on a four-day Eloise high.
“I’m sure it’s gonna be delicious, Ma. Your food always is.”
“Hope so. Everyone’s in the living room watching some game,” she says, pushing to stand. “These need another two minutes to caramelize that spicy ketchup on top.”
“I’ll get them and get the table sorted.” I stack the rest of the plates and pull out the tall water glasses we’ve used since I was a kid.
She turns, her expression softening as she watches me. “What would I do without you, Beau?”
“You’ll never have to find out,” I say lightly, but the words catch in my throat. I don’t think she has any idea how much those moments of love—like this one—mean to me. How they clash with the secrets she kept from me about my biological father.
I head to the dining room and set the plates down at each spot. The sound of laughter and the low hum of the TV float from the living room, where I know Dad, Graham, Cora and Jagger are watching the pregame commentary.
“Yo, dinner’s ready!” I call as I pass the archway to the living room.
Dad is the first to respond, rising from the couch with his usual energy. “Beau, my boy,” he greets, pulling me into one of his signature dad hugs—firm, two pats on the back, followed by a quick shoulder squeeze. “You’re looking chipper today.”
“It’s Sunday,” I say, grinning. “Best day of the week.”
“Someone’s in a mood,” Cora says as she rounds the couch, her head tilting slightly as she studies me. “What’s going on with you?”
Jagger smirks, slipping an arm around her waist. “Maybe he just had a really good coffee this week.”
The grin freezes on my face, and I bite the inside of my cheek. Of course, Hawke couldn’t keep his mouth shut about my run-in with Eloise at the coffee shop. “Something like that,” I mutter, throwing Jagger a flat look.
Jagger chuckles, unfazed. “Good for you, man.”
Cora looks between us. “I don’t get it.”
He tosses his arm around my sister and leans down to murmur, “I’ll tell you later, baby.”
“Ugh, get a fucking room,” Graham grumbles, his voice muffled by the couch cushions.
“Watch it, son,” Dad says, his brows drawing low as he glances at Graham. “What’s up with him lately?”
Graham sits up, muttering something under his breath. I file that moment away for later, noting the tension in his shoulders as he stalks past me.
“Not sure,” I murmur with a shrug. I’ve been a little wrapped up in my girl and the Gauntlet to pay too much attention to my brother, but I have noticed he’s been out a lot more than usual.
With everyone helping, it only takes a few minutes to set the table. Within minutes, we’re all seated. Dad claims his usual spot at the head of the table, Ma on the other end. Jagger pulls out Cora’s chair like the chivalrous bastard he is, murmuring something that has her blushing. Her easy laughter floats around the room, just in time for Graham to stalk to his usual seat next to me. He pulls it out a little harder than necessary, his gaze glued to his phone.
“Dude, what is going on with you?” I keep my voice low.
His shoulders hunch as he types something on his phone. He rolls them back and tucks his phone away in one smooth movement. “Nothing. I’m fine.”
Ma beams as she sets the last dish on the table. “Dig in, everyone!”
We pass around dishes, piling plates high with meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and garlicky green beans. The familiar clink of silverware fills the air, a soothing rhythm of home.
Graham gestures to the empty chair beside Coraline with his fork. “I thought Abby was going to come home soon.”
“She was,” Ma says, her tone ringing with false positivity, her pitch too high. She lifts a dish of garlic bread on the table and passes it to Cora. “But they needed her for something unexpected. She’s very in-demand, you know. I don’t know what they’d do without her.”
“I’m sure they’d manage if she really wanted to take vacation,” Graham mutters, stabbing a piece of meatloaf with more force than necessary.
Ma’s face falls, and she glances away, blinking too fast. I kick my brother underneath the table, a direct shot to the shins. He grunts, but he doesn’t say anything else.
An awkward silence descends over the table, the clinking of silverware against plates the only sound. I glance at Cora, who is focused intently on cutting her meatloaf into tiny pieces. Jagger clears his throat and takes a long sip of water.
“Well, I’m sure she’ll make it back soon,” Dad says in a forcibly cheerful tone.
“How’s the Hellcat running?” Jagger asks me between bites.
“Solid. Hawke took a look earlier this week—turns out it just needed a tune-up.” I reach for the green beans.
“Hawke?” Dad asks, curiosity flickering across his face.
“He works with Jagger,” I say, nodding toward him. “Knows his stuff.”
Graham’s fork pauses mid-air. “Another Reaper,” he says, his tone neutral but tinged with something I can’t quite place.
Cora’s head lifts, her voice firm but quiet. “Jagger trusts him. He’s a friend.”
Ma doesn’t miss a beat. “Speaking of trust, have you and Jagger given any thought to?—”
“Mom.” Cora’s tone sharpens, and the table goes still. She presses her lips together, reaching for her water glass. “Can we not?”
Ma hesitates, clearly caught off guard. But she recovers quickly, smoothing a hand over the edge of the table. “I just think it’s something you should consider. Marriage is a big step, and if you’re moving in together?—”
“Ma,” I cut in, my voice light to ease the tension. “You’ve got three other kids to interrogate, you know.”
Ma huffs but relents, turning to Graham and me with a raised brow. “Your sister is never here.” She gestures toward Abby’s empty chair. “Eternal bachelors, the lot of you.”
Graham smirks, spearing a piece of meatloaf. “Not true. Beau’s actually seeing someone.”
The bite of meatloaf I just swallowed feels like a rock in my throat. I cough, reaching for my water as my eyes dart to Graham. What the fuck, man?
Ma’s face lights up. “You’re seeing someone? Beau, why didn’t you tell me? Who is she? You should bring her to Sunday dinner next week.”
I wipe my mouth with my napkin, stalling. My mind flails and words fail me. “It’s, uh, not like that,” I say, trying to sound casual. It’s a fucking lie if I’ve ever told one. But I don’t want to bring Eloise into this dynamic, not until I have her so tangled up in me she won’t run from the lunatics at this table.
Ma’s brows lift in disbelief. “So you’re not dating anyone?”
How do I explain Eloise Hawthorne to my mother? How do I say she’s mine when I don’t even have the words to explain it to myself?
Graham smirks, leaning back in his chair. “Don’t listen to him, Ma. They’re serious enough to go on a little getaway together.”
My head snaps to him, but he just leans back in his chair, looking far too pleased with himself. And just like that, the pieces click into place. He knows about the cabins.
Shit.
“Graham,” I grind out, my voice low and warning.
Ma’s excitement only grows. “A getaway? Oh, it is serious!”
“It’s nothing like that,” I say quickly, forcing a laugh. “Just spending time with someone. No big deal.”
Ma’s excitement doesn’t dim. “Well, I hope we get to meet her soon. It’s about time one of you boys got serious about dating.”
“Yeah, Beau,” Graham adds, his voice dripping with amusement. “When are we meeting her?”
I shoot him a glare that says I’m going to kill you later, but he just chuckles, clearly enjoying himself.
Across the table, Coraline watches the exchange with a mix of curiosity and something else—concern, maybe. “Does this mystery woman know what she’s getting into?” she asks lightly. “Because Sunday dinners are”—she sighs—“a lot.”
“Oh, hush, now, Coraline. Don’t freak your brother out before we get to meet the girl.”
I shake my head, steering the conversation away. “Dessert,” I declare. “Are we trying something new?” I direct the question to my sister, throwing all of us a goddamn life raft to get out of this conversation.
Because she’s the fucking best, she picks up on it right away. She scoots her chair back and stands up, tossing her napkin onto her plate full of meatloaf.
Cora pushes back her chair, standing with a small smile. “I’ll get dessert.”
Jagger’s arm slides around her waist as she passes, murmuring something that makes her laugh. It’s a soft sound, but it carries. Warm and easy.
When she disappears into the kitchen, I turn to Graham, lowering my voice. “What the hell, man?”
He arches a brow, cool and unaffected as always. “Oh, are you mad that I know about your little romp in my fucking pool?”
“What? No.” I shake my head. “I’m not ashamed of that. That night goes down as a top five for me, bro. But to call me out in front of everyone like that?” I shake my head again. “Not fucking cool.”
He shrugs and crosses his arms over his chest. “It wasn’t fucking cool to fuck around in my pool without telling me.”
I nod a few times. “Okay, I’m sorry I didn’t give you a heads-up. But I want to remind you that you did tell me I’m welcome there whenever.”
Coraline returns with a purple-colored cheesecake and sets it in the middle of the table. “Ube cheesecake with a coconut graham cookie crust.”
“Looks amazing, baby,” Jagger murmurs, throwing his arm around Cora and tugging her into his side.
“Any, uh, hidden ingredients we should know about?” Ma asks with a small grimace.
Cora’s jaw flexes for a second before she forces a smile. “Nah, I used all the dairy and the gluten in this one, Mom.”
“Well, I, for one, think it looks delicious, Cora. Save me an extra slice, will ya? I’ve never seen something quite so vibrant before,” Dad says.
“It looks amazing,” I agree.
For a few minutes, the world narrows to family, food, and the warmth of home.
But as I take my first bite of cheesecake, my mind drifts to Eloise. I wonder what she’s doing, if she’s thinking about me too. The thought makes my chest tighten, a strange mix of longing and anticipation.
I don’t know what this thing with her is yet, but I know one thing for sure. It’s not nothing.
It’s everything.