53. Beau
53
BEAU
I pull into the shaded parking lot at Evergreen Park, the gravel crunching beneath my tires. The late morning sun filters through the canopy of oak and maple trees, dappling the hood of my black pickup truck with spots of golden light.
I put the truck in park and hop out, the warm breeze ruffling my hair. The scent of fresh-cut grass and pine needles permeates the air, a hint of sweetness from the nearby wildflower meadow drifting on the wind.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I pull it out, half-expecting it to be from Peach. But it’s from Mason. We’d been texting often in the last couple of months, but I hadn’t heard much from him in a few days. My last text was telling him to give me a head’s up if he needed some help. To be honest, I didn’t mind walking his little boy around the living room for a few hours.
Mason: All good here. I found someone who’s been helping. Thanks though.
“Hm,” I hum under my breath. Good for him. Mason was never good about asking for help, but then again, who really is?
I head around to the bed of the truck where a checkered blanket and wicker picnic basket await. A smile tugs at my lips as I picture Peach’s reaction to the surprise picnic I’ve planned. After the chaos and adrenaline of the Gauntlet semifinals last week, I figured we could both use a day to relax and just be together.
Especially before the final race. The texts should go out any day now, but I wouldn’t put it past the coalition to make their own timelines just to fuck with people.
Only the top five advance to the final race, and I know she’s one of ’em. I’d be willing to bet I am as well. We haven’t talked too much about it, and it’s almost become the elephant in our relationship.
I set up the foam mattress and blankets in the back of the truck, arranging the cooler and picnic basket. The low purr of her engine rumbles across the park as she parks next to me.
I hop out of the bed of the truck and stride toward her. She pushes open her door before I can reach her, and I know instantly something is wrong.
Eloise steps out of her car, but she doesn’t meet my eyes. There’s a tightness to her posture, a rigidity in the set of her shoulders that sends a frisson of unease down my spine. Her eyes are puffy and red, like she hasn’t slept, and her lips look like she’s been stress-biting them.
Anger flies up my throat on her behalf. Whoever upset her is gonna get up close and personal with my fist.
“What happened, Peach?”
“Hey,” she murmurs. Her gaze darts to the picnic setup in my truck. “You brought us a picnic?” There’s a mountain of emotion in those handful of words, but I can’t even begin to unravel it all.
“Yeah, baby, I did. I wanted to spend some time with you.” And I wanted to tell her about the paperwork Graham was able to push through for her and Viv.
Her shoulders slump, and she looks away. “Shit,” she mumbles under her breath.
I reach out and snag her hand, tugging her toward me. Wrapping my arms around her, I drop a kiss to the top of her head. “Tell me who made you upset. I’ll take care of it for you.”
She exhales heavily and steps out of my embrace. “I don’t need you to fight my battles or fix everything or solve my problems, Beau.”
Confusion weighs down my brow, my internal siren blaring. “We’re a team, baby. That’s exactly what that means. When you need help, I’m the first in line to offer it.”
“I—” She stops, her jaw tightening as she looks away, toward the horizon. Like she’s trying to find the words in the clouds or the swaying grass beyond us.
“You what?” I press gently, reaching for her hand.
She takes a step back, slipping her fingers out of reach.
“I can’t do this,” she blurts, the words tumbling out in a rush.
I freeze, my heart stumbling over itself as her words sink in. “What do you mean, you can’t do the picnic?”
I’ve never seen her whiskey eyes look so lost, so broken before. She’s looking at me like she’s about to shatter. Like she’s holding the pieces of herself together with duct tape and sheer force of will. And I just know I’m not going to like whatever’s coming out of her mouth next.
“We need to talk.” Her voice is flat, emotionless. It sends a chill down my spine.
Those four words might as well be the kiss of death.
“I’m right here, baby. Let’s talk.” I fold my arms across my chest and widen my stance to settle in. My girl’s in for a fight if she thinks she’s just gonna walk away from me.
Eloise looks down at her feet, unable to meet my gaze. Her fists are clenched at her sides, her knuckles turning white. I feel the tension rolling off her in waves, see the tremble in her bottom lip that she's trying so hard to hide.
“I can’t . . . I can’t do this anymore,” she whispers, her voice cracking on the last word.
My heart stops, then restarts in a painful stutter. “What are you talking about, Peach? You can’t do what anymore?”
She takes a shuddering breath and pins me with a look. “Don’t make this harder than it needs to be, Beau.”
I shake my head a little bit, looking around to see if this is some fucked-up version of a prank. But it’s just me and the love of my life trying to leave me. It feels like I’m in some alternate reality.
“I’m gonna need you to spell it out for me, baby.”
“We’re done,” she snaps, recoiling like she hurt herself.
“Bullshit,” I grunt the word.
Her arms tighten around her middle, her eyes darting everywhere but at me. “I mean it, Beau. I can’t do this—this thing between us. It was a mistake,” she whispers the last part. Like she can barely get the lie past her lips.
For a split second, it feels like I’m on that shitty carnival ride, where it swings you violently from one direction to the other. It happens so fast; you feel like the ground is going to open up and swallow you whole.
But the ground settles quick enough, and I don’t know what’s going on, but I know my girl. And I know she doesn’t think we’re a mistake.
“Nah, you don’t mean that, Peach,” I say quietly, my voice steady even as my chest tightens.
She finally looks at me, and the devastation in her eyes rips me apart. “I do.”
“No,” I say firmly, taking a step closer. “No, you don’t. Look at me, Peach. Talk to me. What’s going on? Did something happen?”
Her breath hitches, and for a second, I think she’s going to tell me. Her lips part, but then she shakes her head, her face hardening.
“I remembered who I am,” she says, her voice like ice. “And you and me? It’s not what I want.”
I feel like I’ve been gutted. Like she’s reached into my chest and ripped my fucking heart out. Intellectually, I know something else is at play here. But that useless beating organ inside of me doesn’t think logically. Nah, he’s too busy weeping at the fact she just shredded him.
“No,” I grind out, my fists clenching at my sides. “I don’t accept that.”
“You don’t have to,” she snaps, her voice cracking. “But it doesn’t change anything.”
I step closer, closing the distance between us, and tilt her chin up so she has no choice but to look at me. “It changes everything, Peach. Because I love you. And whatever this is, we’ll fix it, yeah? Together.”
Her eyes well with tears, and I think for a moment she’s going to fall into me, let me hold her. But then she steps back again, viciously wiping underneath her eyes even though no tears have fallen.
“Don’t, Beau,” she grits out, shaking her head. “You can’t—you can’t say things like that. Okay? It only makes it harder. Just . . . just accept this is what I want.”
“No.” My voice is low and rough, my throat tight with emotion. “I won’t accept it, Eloise. Because it’s not the truth and we both know it. It’ll never be over. You and me, Peach? We’re written in the stars.”
“We’re not Andromeda and Perseus, Beau. We’re just people,” she whispers, like it’s painful.
I step closer again, refusing to let her pull away from me. From us. I cradle her face in my hands, my thumbs brushing over the delicate skin beneath her eyes. I catch a single tear as it spills over her lashes.
“It’s alright, baby,” I murmur. “I’ll be here when you’re ready to come back to me. Don’t make me wait too long, yeah?”
She slowly drags my hands off her face, squeezing them one time. She doesn’t say anything, just turns on her heel and stalks to her car.
And then she’s gone.
A better man might take her words as gospel, might let her walk away. But I never claimed to be better, not when it comes to her. I know there’s something else going on, and I’m going to figure it out. And I know just where to start.
Slipping my phone from my pocket, I notice new texts from an unknown number.
Unknown Number: She’s going to kill me for texting you, but I fucking love her and I think you do too. Don’t give up on her, Beau.
Unknown Number: It’s Margot if you couldn’t figure that out. And if you couldn’t, then you don’t deserve my sister.
Unknown Number: If she asks, I’m going to deny I said anything.
Unknown Number: Nate came over this morning, told her to end it with you or we’re out. It was the first time I’ve seen her cry since her dad died. And if you don’t punch him, I’m going to slash his tires.
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter, jogging back to my truck. I tuck the cooler and the basket into the cab and roll up everything with one hand, the other typing out a text back.
Me: I’ll take care of it.
Unknown Number: New number, who dis?
Unknown Number: Shit. I’m kidding. But I wasn’t kidding about the slashing of tires.
Me: I’ll let you know if I need it. Thank you.
Unknown Number: salute emoji Don’t make me regret it or I’ll slash your tires too
Chuckling, I get into my truck and call my brother.
He picks up on the first ring. “Let me guess: you need another favor?”
I huff another laugh as I pull out of the park and head toward my house. “How would you like to take out a crew?”
“Sure, I’ve got a free afternoon,” he says, keys tapping in the background.
“Perfect. I’ll be home in twenty. Bring your creativity, yeah?”