41. Eloise
41
ELOISE
The door slams behind me with a resounding thud, the sound echoing through the quiet house. For a moment, I just stand there, my hand still clutching the doorknob, my heart pounding against my ribs.
Seeing Darla always rattles me, shakes loose the carefully constructed walls I've built to protect myself - to protect my sisters. Her words, slurred and venomous, claw at the back of my mind, threatening to drag me under.
After everything I’ve done for you . . .
Ungrateful little bitch . . .
I take a deep breath, pushing down the anger and hurt that always rises in Darla's wake. I can't let her get to me. Not anymore. I've worked too hard, sacrificed too much, to let her poison seep into the life I've built for Vivie and Margot.
Squaring my shoulders, I head back toward the kitchen, bracing myself for the questions I know are coming. But when I round the corner, the scene that greets me stops me short.
Beau and Vivie sit at the kitchen table, the pink donut box between them. They’re laughing, his deep chuckle mingling with her bright laughter. Warmth blooms in my chest at the sight, momentarily chasing away the chill Darla always leaves behind.
They look so normal, so at ease with each other, that for a moment I forget the storm that just blew through.
“Okay, the cruller one is good, but I think I still like the jelly better,” Vivie declares, licking a spot of raspberry jam off her thumb. “Eight out of ten.”
Beau nods sagely. “A solid choice. The cruller is still a ten for me.”
I clear my throat softly as I step fully into the kitchen. Two pairs of eyes—one bright blue, one deep brown—snap to me. Vivie’s smile falters for a second before she pastes it back on, a little too bright to be genuine.
“Louie, you have to try the cruller! Beau says it’s his favorite, but I think you’ll agree with me that the raspberry jelly is better.” She holds out a piece of each donut, her voice just a touch too loud, too cheerful.
My heart clenches. She's trying so hard to pretend everything is normal, that she didn't just hear our mother screaming obscenities on our front lawn. The urge to wrap her in my arms, to shield her from all the ugliness in this world, hits me like a tidal wave.
But I force myself to smile, to match her too-bright tone. “I don’t know, Viv, it’s hard to beat a classic cruller.” I take the proffered pieces of donut from her sticky fingers and pop them in my mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “I was thinking, after we’re done with the donut test, we should swing by Fiction & Folklore.”
Vivie’s eyes light up at the mention of our favorite bookstore downtown. “Really? Can I get a new book?”
I grin, relieved to see genuine excitement replace the forced cheer on her face. “Maybe a couple of them if you find some good ones in her used section. We’ll make a morning of it.”
Vivie’s such a reader that if I let her, she’d fill up her whole bedroom with stacks of books.
“Yes!” She pumps her fist in the air before turning to Beau. “Wait. Do you like to read, Beau?”
He winces, sliding me a look I can’t decipher. “I’m not a big reader.”
She stands up from the table and dusts her fingers off over the box. “That’s just because you haven’t found the right book yet. You should come with us. I’ll help you find the perfect book.”
I clear my throat. “Oh, Vivie, he can’t?—”
“It’s a date,” Beau interrupts me.
“Perfect. I’ll be ready in ten minutes,” she sing-songs, skipping down the hallway toward her bedroom.
I see the question all over his face, but I don’t have it in me to tell him. Not right now.
“You don’t have to come with us, you know.”
Beau stands from the table, closing the distance between us in two long strides. His hands settle on my hips, his touch warm and reassuring even through the fabric of my dress. “I know I don’t have to, Peach. But I want to.”
His blue eyes search mine, a silent question in their depths. I can see the concern there, the quiet support. He’s giving me an out, a chance to tell him I need space, that I need to handle this on my own. But for the first time in a long time, I don’t want to push someone away.
“Okay, Beau,” I murmur, wrapping my arms around him and pulling him into a hug.
The chime above the door jingles softly as we step into Fiction & Folklore, the cozy scent of old pages, fresh coffee, and something faintly floral enveloping us like a warm hug. Vivie darts ahead, her sneakers squeaking faintly against the polished wooden floors as she weaves through a table of new releases, her eyes alight with excitement.
The bookstore is pure magic.
Golden sunlight streams through tall windows, casting a warm glow on the eclectic mix of furniture and bookshelves. Some shelves are sleek and modern, lined with shiny hardcovers, while others are mismatched and lovingly worn, holding gently loved paperbacks. Wicker chairs and overstuffed armchairs are scattered throughout, each adorned with cozy blankets or colorful cushions.
Fairy lights twist around the shelves, twinkling softly, while plants of all sizes spill from hanging pots and windowsills, adding bursts of green to the space.
On one side of the room, there’s a small café counter with a chalkboard menu written in curling script. A barista is making coffee, the hum of the espresso machine blending seamlessly with the soft, indie music playing overhead. A chalkboard sign reads Try our seasonal caramel maple latte! in elegant script lettering.
“Wow,” Beau murmurs behind me, his voice low and admiring. “I didn’t even know this place existed.”
I glance up at him, smiling. “It’s a hidden gem in Avalon Falls.”
Vivie’s voice floats over from a nearby shelf. “I’m going to check the used section first.”
“Okay, I’ll be in the romance section,” I murmur as she walks away with a little skip in her step.
Beau leans down, his lips brushing against my ear. “I’m going to check something out. Be right back.”
I nod, my pulse fluttering at the warmth of his breath against my skin. “Okay.”
I wander toward the romance section, running my fingers along the spines of the books. My heart feels light, as though the morning’s tension is finally starting to ease. Fiction & Folklore has that kind of effect. It feels like a refuge, a little bubble of calm amid chaos.
I lose track of time as I browse the shelves, pulling out books that catch my eye and reading the back covers. There’s something soothing about being surrounded by stories, each one a doorway into a different world.
I’m so engrossed in reading the blurb of a new small town that I don’t notice Beau’s presence until an iced coffee appears in front of my face, startling me out of my reverie. The plastic cup is slick with condensation, a green straw poking out the top of a mound of whipped cream.
“An iced caramel latte,” Beau murmurs, his voice smooth as the drink in his hand.
I blink up at him, a slow smile spreading across my face as I take the cup from his hand. Iced caramel lattes are my favorite coffee drink. “Be careful, Beau, or I’m gonna think you’re obsessed with me.”
Beau chuckles, that deep, rumbling sound that I’m starting to crave like a drug. He leans in close, his lips just grazing the shell of my ear as he murmurs, “Baby, if you only knew the half of it.”
My heart flutters at his words, warmth spreading through my chest. A shiver races down my spine at the intimate timbre of his voice. I take a sip of the latte to hide the way my cheeks flush, the creamy sweetness bursting on my tongue.
“Find anything good?” he asks, tipping his head to the book in my hand.
I smile up at him, holding it up. “Yeah, I might treat myself to this one. It’s a Beauty and the Beast retelling about a princess and a dragon king.”
Beau quirks a brow, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “A dragon king, huh? Sounds intense.”
“The best kinds of stories usually are,” I tease back, nudging him gently with my elbow.
He chuckles, the sound rumbling deep in his chest. “I’ll have to take your word for it, Peach.”
I take another sip of my latte, the sweet, creamy caramel hitting my taste buds and making my shoulders relax even further. “This is really good. Thank you.”
“My pleasure, Peach.”
The way Beau is looking at me, with such open affection and care, makes my heart ache a little, in the good way. His blue eyes are soft, crinkling at the corners, as he smiles down at me. There’s a tenderness there that I’m not used to seeing directed my way. It’s both thrilling and terrifying, the way he looks at me like I’m something special, something to be treasured.
I want to bask in the warmth of his gaze, to let myself melt into his strong arms and forget about the rest of the world for a while. But there’s a part of me that resists, that whispers reminders of all the reasons I should keep my guard up. Letting someone in, really letting them see all the broken, jagged pieces of me—it’s not something that comes easily. There are too many secrets, too much baggage weighing me down.
Beau's fingers brush against mine as we walk through the stacks, sending a tingle of electricity up my arm. It's such a simple touch, almost casual, but it feels loaded with unspoken meaning. I glance up at him through my lashes, trying to read his expression. But he just smiles that easy, heart-stopping smile of his, like touching me is the most natural thing in the world.
And maybe it is for him. But for me, every point of contact feels significant, weighted with questions I’m nervous to ask. What are we doing here, Beau and I?
But fuck it. I have a lot of flaws, but cowardice isn’t one of them.
I stop walking in the horror section, turning and leaning a shoulder against the shelf. “Is this what we’re doing now?”
He braces a hand on the shelf above my head and faces me. “What’s that, Peach?”
I nod my head to the right. “This. Going to the bookstore, bringing me donuts. Buying my favorite coffee. All these couple-y things.” My nose scrunches up a little, and I almost want to stuff the words back into my mouth. But I want to hear his reply more, so I let them linger between us.
It’s a dare if I’ve ever given one.
His head tilts to the side, his brows forming a little v over his blue eyes. “Are we not a couple, Peach?”
Leaning my head back against the shelf, I murmur, “I don’t know, are we?”
He hums underneath his breath. “Hand me your coffee.”
I arch a brow and give it to him wordlessly. He sets it on the shelf to our right, along with his own.
“Put your book down, Peach,” he murmurs, his blue eyes almost sparkling.
I don’t take my gaze from him as I blindly set it on the shelf behind me.
He steps closer, crowding into my space until all I can see, all I can feel, is him. His hands come up to cup my face, his palms warm and slightly rough against my skin. His thumbs brush over my cheekbones, the touch achingly tender. My breath catches in my throat as he leans in, his nose brushing against mine.
“Baby,” he murmurs, his voice low and intimate, meant only for me. “I thought I made it pretty clear how I feel about you.”
My heart hammers against my ribs, hope and trepidation warring. “Remind me again.”
Beau gazes down at me, his blue eyes intense and filled with an emotion that makes my knees feel weak. He brushes his thumbs over my cheekbones again, the touch reverent, like he’s memorizing the feel of my skin.
“Eloise Hawthorne,” he says softly, his warm breath fanning across my face. “You’re under my skin, in my veins. From the moment I saw you, I haven’t been able to get you out of my head. Your smile, your laugh, the way you come apart under my touch. It’s imbedded into me, baby.”
“Beau,” I whisper, my voice trembling slightly.
“You’re mine, Peach. And I’m happy to remind you anytime you need it.”
And then he’s kissing me, his mouth slanting over mine in a kiss that steals the breath from my lungs. It’s soft at first, achingly tender, his lips moving slowly over mine like he’s savoring the taste of me. But then his tongue traces the seam of my lips and I open for him on a sigh, the kiss deepening, turning hungry and consuming.
His hands tangle in my hair, angling my head to deepen the kiss further. It feels like my soul starts to sigh, like she’s swept up in the romanticism of it all.
It’s the kind of kiss people write books about, the kind songs are written for.
In the middle of the horror section, Beau Carter kisses me like the world will stop spinning if he stops. It’s the most romantic, all-consuming kiss of my life.
It’s everything.