Chapter 17 – Beau #2
I take one last breath, steadying myself on the frame, and then turn to walk away.
Each step away from that door is like moving through sludge.
My heart aches for what we could have if she only gives us a chance, but another part of me is hoping like hell she heard me and believes what I said because I mean every fucking word.
The silence in the hallway stretches long after I head toward the kitchen.
I’m dragging my feet because I don’t want to miss her opening the door.
If she calls me back and says something, anything, but the door stays closed.
Every step toward the front of my condo sends a jolt through my side, but I make it to the kitchen, where the silence is different. It’s thicker and hella awkward.
Cooper’s perched on one of the counter stools, sipping coffee like he’s the voiceover narrator in a prestige drama.
Cole leans against the pantry door, arms crossed and smirking like the smug little shit he is.
And Darius—poor kid—stands frozen near the fridge, clutching a brown paper bag of muffins like it might protect him from whatever adult-level emotional trauma he just walked in on.
I say nothing as I pass them, heading directly toward the coffee pot and pouring myself a cup of coffee, slow and casual, pretending I’m not internally combusting and that everything inside me doesn’t feel like a live wire.
The silence Alise left behind is still clinging to me like smoke, and if I don’t keep moving, I’ll choke on it.
So, I hide behind the ritual of making coffee, one step at a time.
My face probably turns an even deeper shade of red as I notice I left my room without bothering to make sure the CAM is peaking out from my shirt.
Instinct kicks in, and I tug the hem of my T-shirt lower, smoothing it flat over my ribs.
The adhesive edges underneath tug uncomfortably, but at least the monitor stays covered.
If any of them notice it, the jokes about Alise will vanish fast, and I’m not ready for that conversation.
I can feel the heat of every stare like spotlights aimed right at my bare regrets.
“I just want to state for the record,” Darius finally says, breaking the silence with the indignation only a traumatized teenager can deliver, “I was not emotionally prepared for that level of trauma this morning.”
“You should’ve knocked,” I respond without looking up, my voice dry like a shield I can hide behind, even if my chest still feels cracked open from the bathroom door slamming shut a few minutes ago.
“Why? I didn’t know she was in there! And I was invited!
” he snaps, eyes wild. “I was on a muffin delivery mission. A rescue operation! Ramona sent me to save your emotionally repressed self. I did not sign up to see limbs, tangled blankets, and my uncle looking like a shirtless lumberjack in crisis.”
Cooper nearly chokes on his coffee. “To be fair, from what you described, it was a pretty impressive tangle of limbs. I know the only thing all of us are thinking is, finally.”
“For sure.” Cole nods solemnly, stealing a muffin from the bag. “We can give it a solid 8.5, but we are deducting points for forgetting to lock the door.”
His eyes flick over me as he chews, grin widening. “And honestly, you look like you slept in that shirt. Real frazzled, even for you.”
My stomach lurches, heat crawling up my neck.
I tug at the hem again, forcing a smirk I don’t feel.
If he knew what I was really hiding under the cotton, he wouldn’t be grinning; he’d be staring and asking a million questions I don’t have any answers to.
And I can’t let that happen. “Maybe I wanted to be caught,” I deadpan, taking a long sip of coffee.
“You absolutely wanted to be caught.” Cole snickers. “You’re practically glowing. I thought Darius had walked into the finale. Shouldn’t we hear the orchestral swell? And get a glimpse of the slow-mo forehead kiss when she walks into the room?”
“Stop. Stop talking.” Darius lets out an exaggerated groan. “I need to bleach my eyeballs, have a full lobotomy, undergo therapy, and get a new family.”
“You say that like Beau and Alise haven’t been doing the world’s slowest burn since they were in middle school,” Cooper points out.
“Oh, we all saw it,” Cole adds, waving his muffin. “It was like watching a live-action fanfic unfold. We’ve got pining. Mutual denial. Hot, repressed glances across the locker room. You’re one ‘only one bed’ away from cliché bingo.”
“God,” Darius groans again, dragging a hand down his face. “Please. Stop talking. I’m too young to know this much about my uncle’s love life.”
“You guys suck,” I mutter, but there’s no heat behind it just as I hear the soft creak of the floor and footsteps headed this way.
All of us go quiet, like someone hit the mute button, staring toward the hallway leading to the back of my condo.
It’s only a few moments before Alise rounds the corner into the kitchen.
Her hair is pulled back at the crown of her head, styled into a round, voluminous bun.
She’s dressed in the same dark jeans from last night and a soft blue sweater that definitely doesn’t belong to her, meaning someone raided my closet again.
She stops short when she sees us. Her eyes flick to me standing at the counter, and another three sets of eyes lock on to her like she walked onto a sitcom soundstage mid-chaos. She hesitates for a second and then makes the mistake of lifting her chin in defiance.
My pulse stutters when Alise’s gaze dips, but she doesn’t say a word. She just lifts her chin a fraction higher, like she’s silently promising she won’t give me away. Relief cuts through the panic, but it’s fragile, hanging by a thread I’m terrified will snap the second my brothers push too far.
“Morning, sunshine,” Cole says, grin stretching wide like he’s been waiting for this exact moment. “Sleep okay? Darius said you two looked cozy when he walked in.”
Darius coughs loudly before opening his mouth to apologize, but then wisely shuts it.
There is nothing he can say at this moment that will make the situation any better than it is.
What he should have done was keep his mouth shut about what he saw instead of blabbing about what happened to either of my brothers.
I’m sure Ramona will summon Alise upstairs to her place any minute for her own inquisition session.
What I wouldn’t give to be a fly on the wall.
“Hi, Cole,” Alise responds cooly, narrowing her eyes slightly at Darius.
“I like the sweater,” Cooper adds, smug and unhurried. “Very… post-coital chic.”
“I’m going to smother you both,” she says sweetly, glancing at the coffee pot like she’s calculating if it’s worth smacking one of them in the head with it.
“Can we not? I am but a child with muffin-based trauma.” Darius throws his hands in the air.
“Sorry, D. Didn’t know you were coming.” Alise’s mouth twitches.
“I didn’t know I was coming,” he snaps. “I was told to drop off carbs. I didn’t expect a full-on soap opera. There were limbs, Alise. Limbs. And your leg was—I can’t even say it.”
Cole’s eyes light up as he wrings his hands together like some evil villain in a movie. “Wait, where were her legs? Was it the thigh-over-the-hip moment or—”
Alise cuts him off with a glare that could power the whole damn grid. “I swear to God, Hendrix, I will snap your stick in half.”
“Ooh, feisty,” Cole says, holding up his hands in surrender. “Ten out of ten. Would watch the sequel.”
“I hate this family,” she mutters.
“You say that,” Cooper says, grinning, “but you chose this family.”
“I was helping him!” Alise shouts, exasperated, as she swings her tote over her shoulder and backs toward the door like she’s escaping a hostage situation.
“With what?” Cole calls after her. “Your mouth? Because, according to Darius, it looked like your mouth was doing a lot of work.”
“Oh, my God!” Darius shrieks. “That’s not what I said, Auntie Alise. I promise.”
“I’ll deal with you later.” She points at him before whirling around on her heels to face Cooper. “I was helping him breathe, you asshat!”
“Oh, that’s what we’re calling it now?” Darius says, voice cracking halfway through.
“Boy, you need to learn to quit while you’re ahead,” I grumble. “Your auntie Alise remembers everything, and I mean everything. She is going to get you back tenfold when you least expect it.”
“How? I don’t even have a girlfriend,” Darius questions, eyeing me and Cole skeptically.
“Yet. You don’t have a girlfriend yet,” Cole responds, taking a bite of his muffin as Alise heads for the doorway.
“So… is it like soulmate-level forehead kisses or casual morning-after sweater theft?” Cole leans in, voice pitched low and fake serious.
“Really?” I glare at him, wondering if he plans on stopping anytime soon.
Although I doubt it. Cole and Alise’s favorite pastime used to be giving each other a hard time, something I’m sure both of them missed while he was hiding away in Boise. Something Alise probably agrees with as her mouth pulls up at the corner, and she scowls in my brother’s direction.
“What?” Cole shrugs. “I’m invested.”
“You’re all insane.” Alise rolls her eyes before throwing a muffin at him, barely missing his head. “And I’m leaving.”
“You just got here,” Cooper says, mock-offended.
“Exactly.” She pushes the door open. “Which means there’s still time to salvage some dignity before I scream into a pillow.”
“Scream into your pillow? You mean before Mona and Michele get a hold of you, right?” Darius chimes in, ducking just in time to miss a muffin to the head. “What? You shouldn’t shoot the messenger.”
“I don’t plan on shooting you, Darius,” Alise responds, color creeping up her throat, which is now rosy and impossible to ignore. “But remember, payback is a bitch.”
Darius’s eyes widen in horror as he looks at Cole and me for help, but we raise our hands in surrender and respond at the same time, “Told you.”
Alise finally grabs another muffin for herself, her eyes flicking to mine for a brief second before heading back toward the door.
Her gaze dips once more to my shirt, subtle enough my brothers miss it but pointed enough I feel heat crawl up my neck.
As she passes me, her shoulder brushes my arm, and she rises on her toes just enough to bring her mouth close to my collarbone.
Her voice is barely a breath, meant only for me.
“You know,” she whispers, her breath ghosting my ear, “telling them would be easier than tearing yourself apart hiding it.”
I go rigid, my hand flattening against my shirt like I can hold the secret in place with sheer force. She doesn’t wait for my answer. She rocks back on her heels, muffin in hand, her expression smooth as glass as she walks toward the door.
From the outside, though, I already know how it must’ve looked. Alise leaning up into my space, her lips tilted toward my jaw like she’d just pressed a goodbye kiss there.
“Okay, hold up,” Cole crows, pointing like he just made the game-winning shot. “Was that a whisper or a kiss? Because from here, it definitely looked like a kiss.”
Darius groans, dragging both hands over his face. “Please stop narrating my trauma in real time.”
Alise, without missing a beat, flips Cole off over her shoulder and keeps walking. “You guys shouldn’t stay too long. I think Beau probably needs some more rest.”
“You’re the one sleeping in his bed,” Cole calls after her. “But don’t worry, we’ll just keep talking about it without you!”
I keep my face carefully blank, but my chest burns.
Because for one sharp second, I wanted Cole to be right.
Wanted it to be a kiss instead of a secret pressed between her lips and my collarbone.
And wanting that, with my brothers watching and Alise bolting in the opposite direction, is its own kind of torture.
“You all need to find a damn hobby!” she shouts over her shoulder, then bolts for the door like her shoes are on fire.
The moment she’s gone, Darius turns to me slowly. “She was helping. Right. That’s what we’re going with?”
“You’re all terrible.” I groan, scrubbing a hand over my face and trying to hide my smile.
All that matters is that Alise showed up for me, and she stayed instead of bolting the minute one of my brothers opened their mouths. Even if it was just for breakfast and banter and wearing my sweater like it was hers. And to me, that means something.