Chapter 15 – Beau
Chapter Fifteen
Beau
Ibarely make it inside before my condo door shuts behind me. The second it clicks, my legs buckle. I hit the floor hard—knees first, then hands—palms skidding across the cold tile like I’m sliding into hell.
Pain detonates through me. My spine seizes.
My right hip lights up with a white-hot spike of pain that shoots straight up my back, locking every muscle in place.
Pain that steals your breath and swallows it whole.
The walls tilt violently left, then right.
My body jerks, useless and twitching, as I collapse onto my side, chest heaving but never catching air.
The monitor strapped to my chest digs into me as I hit the floor, its adhesive edges tugging with every shallow breath, a cold reminder recording every second of this breakdown. I try to shift, to knock it loose, but I can’t. Even fidgeting is pure agony.
I try to breathe through it, but the air is thick and unyielding, like I’m inhaling cement.
My vision narrows until all I can see are the fractured edges of the kitchen lights, bending like a funhouse mirror.
Sweat pools against the tile beneath me, my shirt clinging to my skin like shrink-wrap.
The patch burns against my chest, and I claw at the fabric over it, desperate to cover, to hide, to make it disappear.
I can’t move. Every twitch is agony. It feels like someone took a baseball bat to every joint and left the pieces floating inside me.
I squeeze my eyes shut, nails digging into the tile.
“Come on,” I rasp. “Come on, just—fuck—get it together.” But the words come out shredded and useless.
A choked sound escapes me like an animal dying slowly.
Bile burns its way up my throat as I press my forehead to the blessedly cold floor, but it doesn’t help.
It doesn’t ground me. It only reminds me of how low I’ve sunk.
Curled up in my kitchen, choking on pain and panic and all the things I’ll never say out loud.
Move. You just have to move.
I manage to brace my elbows against the tile and try to breathe through it, but I can’t.
I don’t even know if I can crawl. Every twitch of my limbs sends another burst of agony ricocheting through my body like broken glass in a blender.
My body’s shutting down, piece by piece.
I’m trapped inside it, a passenger with no brakes.
The monitor digs into my sternum as if reminding me it’s cataloging every second of my failure.
Unable to support my weight any longer, I drop to my side a second time, curled and trembling on the tile.
This isn’t just a flare or something that will pass in a few moments like before; this is a goddamn freefall, and I’m alone.
I bite the inside of my cheek until I taste copper.
My hand twitches. My ribs spasm. My pride twists around my throat and chokes me.
“Please,” I whisper, not even sure who I’m talking to. “Make it stop.”
My voice breaks, and it feels as if my body won’t be too far behind. I don’t even know who I’m begging—God, the universe, myself. I just need it to end. I feel pathetic and completely powerless. A man twice broken by this unbelievable pain and my pride.
I close my eyes and tell myself I’ll get up in a minute.
Crawl to the couch, take something, and just ride it out.
But I don’t move. I can’t. My breath comes in shallow bursts; every twitch sends lightning bolts up my spine.
My right hip is on fire. My fingers are numb.
And the worst part? I’m still fucking conscious.
A wave of nausea surges, choking me. I try to roll, to push up on my elbows again, but I can’t. My body’s locked, frozen in place like it’s given up on me completely.
“Beau?” Alise pounds loudly on my door. “Beau, I know you’re in there.”
The second I hear her banging on the door, calling my name like a war cry, panic coils in my chest. Shit.
No, she can’t be here. Not when I’m like this.
Not when she might see. I clutch at my shirt, fingers trembling over the patch like I can hide it, press it flat enough that it disappears.
I try to speak, to push out a weak I’m fine, but all that comes is a hoarse grunt and another wave of nausea. I don’t want her to see me like this.
I screw my eyes shut and pray she’ll go away. That she’ll take the hint, decide I’m being an asshole, and storm off the way she always threatens to when I push too hard. But Alise Moore doesn’t walk away, especially not from people she loves.
“I swear to God, if you don’t answer this door, I’m coming in. You don’t get to shut down and disappear. You don’t get to be a coward!”
Her words slam into me harder than the pain, but not because she’s wrong. It’s because she’s right. I push my face further into the floor, trying to muffle the sounds coming out of me. She can’t hear me like this. She can’t.
Another knock. Louder. More frantic. “Beau, please. Open the door.”
I dig my teeth into my arm, trying to stifle the whimper that rips out of my chest, but it comes out louder than you would think. The next thing I know, the front door flies open, and her footsteps echo down the hall, sharp and furious.
Shit. My heart thunders in my ears, the monitor recording every stutter of it.
“Don’t—” I rasp, but it’s too late. She’s already seen me and starts rushing forward.
I turn my head just enough to see her drop to her knees beside me, eyes wide, hand covering her mouth.
“Beau?” she breathes, like saying my name might change what she’s seeing. “Oh, my God. Beau!”
Her hands are on my shoulders, my face, her voice high and cracking and full of terror.
“What happened? Jesus, what happened? You’re burning up. You’re—why didn’t you call someone?”
I can’t answer. I try, but all that comes out is a gasp. Her hands are everywhere and nowhere at the same time. I can hear the fear in her breath, the rising tide. It’s thick in the room now, like a storm brewing.
“Your back? Your hip? What do you need?” Her voice cracks. “I don’t know what to do—please, just tell me what you need.”
“Everything hurts,” I croak. “My back locked, and I can’t move my legs. It’s—I don’t know what this is, but it’s not normal. It’s worse.”
Her breath catches on a sob. “Oh, my God.”
I blink, and her face swims in and out of focus—pale, stricken, like she’s physically hurting just looking at me.
Her lips tremble. She’s trying so hard to keep it together, but I see her unraveling, thread by thread, and it guts me.
I can’t let her stay. I need to make her leave.
I clutch my shirt tighter, fingers digging over the monitor like I can shield it from her touch.
I summon what little venom I have left and mutter, “How did you get in?”
“You’re the fucking idiot who leaves his key under the mat,” she snaps. “That’s dangerous, you know. Anyone could come by and let themselves into your condo.”
“It’s for Darius,” I whisper. “Safe place.”
She pauses, her expression shifting. It’s not soft exactly, but sharp in a different way.
It’s like she’s not just looking at me but seeing me, seeing the cracks I’ve kept hidden.
But she also knows what Darius has been through, what we’ve all been through.
She knows what it cost him to ask for shelter, even from me.
Alise closes her eyes and nods. “Okay, that makes sense.”
And just for a second, I think maybe she’ll let it go, but then her voice cracks. “But you don’t get to do this to me. Not today.”
I flinch as she pulls back, tears streaking down her face. “You don’t get to lie here in agony and try to push me out like that’s some kind of mercy. You think I don’t know what you’re doing? You’re trying to make me mad so I’ll leave. So you can be in pain alone.”
I swallow hard, guilt blooming in my chest. “Lisey—”
“No,” she chokes out. “You don’t get to Lisey me right now. You don’t get to shut me out and act like I’m some girl you barely know. I see you, and I am not leaving.”
I squeeze my eyes shut. “I don’t want you to see me like this.”
“I don’t care!” she cries, voice breaking. “I don’t care what you want if it means you’re suffering like this with no one around! You’re not a burden, you stubborn, beautiful asshole. Let me help you.”
The word help cuts deeper than the pain because what if she sees everything? Not just me crumpled on the floor, but the ugly proof plastered to my chest, recording every second of weakness.
I close my eyes, chest shuddering, my hands trembling against the tile. “I can’t—I can’t move. I don’t even know what the hell is happening to me, and if you stay, I’m going to break into a thousand fucking pieces right in front of you.”
She presses her hand to my shoulder. “Then break. I’ll help you pick up the pieces. You don’t have to do this alone, Beau. You never have.”
I feel the last bit of resistance drain from me, leaving nothing but pain and bone-deep exhaustion.
I don’t have the strength to keep fighting her.
I don’t even want to. Something inside me splinters.
Not in a loud, dramatic way, but quiet and final, like the last thread holding me together just lets go.
I shake from pain, shame, and the weight of finally being seen.
My body trembles from the weight of it, from the goddamn relief of not having to pretend I’m okay. I’m not, nowhere near it.
“I’m scared,” I rasp, the words crawling up from a place I’ve kept locked down tight. “I don’t know what’s happening to me. I can’t move. I can’t fix it. I always fix it.”
She kneels beside me slowly, careful not to jostle me, and cups the side of my face with one hand. Her thumb brushes the tears I didn’t realize had fallen.
“You don’t have to fix it,” she says softly. “You just have to let me in.”