28. Beau
twenty-eight
Beau
A ll I want to do is sleep.
Unfortunately, there’s a revolving door in my hospital room and a gauntlet of tests to endure. Staff come in at the most annoying times to check my vitals and do what they call neuro checks. At one point, they wheel me off for a CT scan and then an MRI.
I know they’re only doing their jobs, but I’m exhausted and more than a little moody. Thank god they hooked me up to something good to settle the pounding in my head.
The door creaks open again, and I stifle my groan as another doctor sweeps into view.
“Hi there, Beau. I’m Dr. Malone. I’ll be tending to you in replacement of Dr. Stan. How are you feeling?”
I let my head roll in her direction. “Do you all have a camera in here to see when I close my eyes?”
She laughs. “I’m sure plenty of patients feel that way. No cameras. I’ll let you rest for a bit after this conversation. I heard you had quite the night.”
“Yeah. I’m dramatic like that.”
“A little drama spices life up.”
I level her with a serious look. “So how bad is it?”
She’s a master of the neutral expression as she comes over to perch on the edge of my bed like we’re well-acquainted with each other.
“ We found a small mass in your left frontal lobe. The culprit for your recent symptoms. I’d say your wrestling match was a blessing in disguise, Beau.
Some patients don’t realize they have a tumor for years. ”
Brows burrowing, I drop my gaze to a frayed string along the hem of the shitty hospital blanket. At first, I’m not sure I heard her right, but then I really don’t feel like asking her to repeat herself.
A fucking tumor ? When did I agree to let something like that take up residence in my head?
“So, what does that mean?” I ask, voice cracking.
“It means surgery, Beau. The good news is I’ve performed hundreds of successful surgeries just like this one. I’m hopeful I’ll be able to remove all of the tumor.”
My blood runs cold. “Surgery. Like… now ?”
“As soon as possible would be preferable, yes,” Dr. Malone replies.
Pressure builds behind my eyes. I shake my head. “I don’t live here. I was just visiting some friends. Wait, what happens if you can’t remove all of it?”
I haven’t even had a chance to record anything. I don’t want the last thing I produced to be a failed album with Lithos.
She gives me an encouraging smile. “Then we put together a treatment plan to take care of the rest. Sometimes we need a little help from chemo or radiation. We won’t know for certain until pathology has a look at the tumor.
Usually, it takes one to two weeks for them to get back to us after surgery. ”
I nod like I understand a single thing she just told me.
The doctor claps her hands on her thigh as if to disperse the bad vibes. “Where are you from, Beau?”
“Phoenix. ”
She perks up. “I spent a summer there during my undergrad. Actually, I may have a recommendation for a neurosurgeon in that area if he has availability. Why don’t I give you some time to process while I make a phone call?
You can rest or visit with your friends.
They’ve been anxiously pacing the halls.
The tall, dark, and handsome one is causing quite the stir with the nurses. ”
My heart stutters. That has to be Liam, right? I mean, I knew Stasi was here. She rode in the ambulance.
I guess I wasn’t expecting Liam to come after the way he reacted to my seizure.
“Okay. Yeah. Do you mind letting them in?”
While I’m not ready to tell them any of this, I’d appreciate their comfort. Maybe after a quick visit, I can convince them to go home and go to bed. They both have work in the morning. There’s no reason for them to stay.
“Of course,” Dr. Malone says kindly, rising to her feet. “And Beau? You have every right to seek out treatment elsewhere, but I want to assure you that you would be in good hands if you decide to have the surgery here.”
I can’t even manage a nod. When she’s gone, I cover my face with my hands and work to bottle up the messy emotions swirling around in my stupid, broken head. I don’t even know what the fuck radiation is. It doesn’t sound like something a human should be able to survive.
Soft fingers touch my forearm. I drop my hands and wince at the bright fluorescent lights. I didn't even hear anyone come in.
Once my eyes adjust, I’m greeted by the vision of a blonde-haired, beautiful angel .
“Hi, sweetheart.”
“Hi, Beau.”
Her smile makes me sad. I don’t want her to be sad. Lifting a hand, I brush it along her cheek, ignoring the tug of the IV taped to my arm. She turns her head to kiss my palm.
“You know, you don’t have to do this,” I say quietly.
“Do what?”
My brows pinch together. “Be here.”
“Why wouldn’t I be here?”
I give a shrug while my heart begins to crumble into tiny pieces. “Because this doesn’t have anything to do with you.”
Her expression twists into something pained. “How so?”
“You didn’t ask for this. I just waltzed into your lives like I belonged there. I hung around because I wanted the two of you to be together. And then I got selfish. So unbelievably selfish.”
Stasi recoils. “I’m going to blame this madness on the seizure. Otherwise, I might actually get mad at you.”
I drop my arm onto the bed in defeat. Eventually, Stasi shakes her frustration and drapes her warm body over my chest. I do my best to soak it in, breathing in her citrus scent. I want to remember every detail of the summer we spent together when I’m back in Phoenix on my own.
To have fucking surgery.
She doesn’t need to share the weight of this burden. She doesn’t need to hear about how jacked up I am on the inside.
“You’re so sweet, you know that?” I say, kissing the top of her head.
She sniffles. “You both keep saying that.”
“No tears, baby.” I squeeze her tighter, the burning sensation behind my eyes growing. As much as I want to curse some higher being for this situation, I made the mistake of coming to Texas. I brought this sickness into their lives.
Choked up, I ask, “Is Liam here? ”
“He’s taking a walk through the hospital. He’s upset, Beau. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to reach him.”
Something like a rock sinks in my gut. Liam’s terror was the first thing I saw when I regained consciousness on the dining room floor. He clearly blames himself, but had we not collided, I would have gone on longer not knowing what was going on in my head.
I get the sense Liam wants to cast himself as a villain, even though he’s done nothing to earn the poisonous crown. For anyone brave enough to stare into the dark pits of his eyes, they would see the truth of his nature. The tender soul he hides away.
“Beau. Do they know why you had a seizure?” Stasi asks.
The door opens once more, saving me from having to lie. My stomach turns over as Liam hesitantly approaches my bed, a duffle bag clutched in one hand, his shoulders hanging low.
He looks miserable. Like a metal god who fell off his throne.
I can’t put them through this, even if I’m scared of battling a tumor on my own.
“This is not your fault,” I tell him.
His eyes skim over the machines I’m hooked up to. “Looks a hell of a lot like it to me.”
“I’ve been having head issues for weeks. You know that. The seizure was probably inevitable. People have them, Liam.”
A muscle in his jaw ticks. His chin drops, loose tendrils of inky hair hiding his face.
“Please don’t be stubborn about this. Fuck , will you come here?”
He doesn’t move, and all the worry I’d been fending off comes rushing over me. Why would he want me like this? Why would anyone want to take care of me after I have my head cut open? No one is gonna sign up for all the appointments and whatever shitstorm of symptoms “treatment” might bring.
Liam has a business to run. Stasi has real patients to tend to.
And then there’s the possibility that I won’t get better. What if one surgery isn’t enough? What if this becomes an uphill battle for the rest of my life?
Will it even be a long life?
Ugh . I wish I could get high. Even if I could sneak it into the hospital, I’m not sure I could trust my mouth under the influence. Look at how my conversation with Noah turned out. I ruined that friendship.
Liam drags a chair across the tile floor and parks it on the other side of my bed. He collapses into it.
When I hold out my hand to him, he brings it to his mouth and presses a quick kiss to my knuckles.
“I’m shit at this,” he says, refusing to meet my eyes.
“Hey, I get to be the moody one right now,” I tease softly.
He sighs and reaches a hand up to comb it through my hair. “Still a handful, even when you’re laid out in a fucking hospital bed. I bought you some things. A change of clothes. Toiletries. An extra blanket.”
I shut my eyes to keep tears from spilling. I want to regret coming here. I really do. But I’ve enjoyed my time with them more than I could ever put into words. I got to see a new side of Liam, the man I’ve been in love with for years.
I got the opportunity to fall in love with Stasi, too.
For that, I have to be grateful.
Now I just need to find a way to kick them out with kindness and summon up the courage to call my dad.
“Fuck the timing of this. Seriously,” I mumble .
Stasi eases off my chest. I miss her warmth immediately. “Is there anything we can get you? Are you hungry or thirsty?”
I peck a kiss to the tip of her nose. “I have two favors to ask.”
“Anything,” she replies.
“I’d like an ice cold Diet Coke.”
Liam stands up fast enough to make the chair screech on the floor, an inked hand already digging for his wallet.
“And two. I’d like for both of you to go home and get some sleep.”
Stasi shakes her head. “I’m fine right here.”
“Sweetheart.” I tuck a lock of hair behind her ear. “I’d like to sleep, too.”
Her little “oh” puts more cracks in my heart. I ache to comfort her, but Dr. Malone could return at any second, and I don’t want them here for that conversation.
Stasi hesitates, chewing on her bottom lip. “Okay, but you’ll call or text if anything happens?”
I sense Liam’s intense gaze on me.
“Promise.” The lie tastes bitter on my tongue. Still, it’s the right thing to do.
Minutes later, they return to my room—Liam with the Diet Coke and Stasi with a styrofoam cup of ice chips.
She kisses me quickly, then makes room for Liam at my bedside.
He leans in to kiss my forehead. I can tell by the tension in his body and the distant look in his eyes that he’s in the process of shutting down.
My heart breaks for Stasi. Have I doomed them?
I watch them leave with a sinking feeling in my gut. Death might as well have its skeletal arms around me because suddenly I can’t breathe.
Something on a machine must trigger a nurse to come in. As soon as she sees the tears on my face, she gives me an understanding look. “ Emotional pain can be just as bad as the physical stuff, huh? Anything I can do for you, sugar?”
Practicing a deep breath, I glance over at the duffle bag Liam dropped on a chair. “You mind checking if my phone is in that bag, please?”
She fishes through it and hands my phone over. Then she removes a fluffy blanket Liam packed as well, arranging it over my feet. “You’ve got some good friends.”
“The best,” I choke out.
I wait until she leaves to make a phone call, guilt rising in my chest at the thought of dumping bad news on my dad when he’s already experienced so much hardship in his life. Burying his wife should have been the end of it.
The phone rings several times, and I begin to lose hope that he’ll pick up. I remind myself that it’s still light outside. He’s probably working.
“Beau? Is that you?” A gruff voice answers.
My pulse trips up. “Hey, dad.”
“What’s goin’ on, son? You still out on the road?”
“Nah.” I shut my eyes and take a deep breath. “I’m gonna be home soon. For good.”
The pause on the other side has my throat tightening.
“Music thing not working out then?”
“You could say that.”
“Well, I’m sorry to hear that. You’ve always had a talent for it.”
I’m sucked back into memories of all the times he asked me to play for him, either on the back porch or in his office where we’d kept my mom’s upright piano. He’s been so supportive of everything I do.
We sit in silence for a bit as I work up the courage to tell him about my diagnosis .
A male voice sounds in the background of the phone. Something about loading up a trailer.
“I’ll let you get back to work, dad.”
“Hold on now. Roy can stand to learn some patience. I haven’t talked to you in seven whole months.”
God dammit. Now the tears are pouring down my face. I guess I didn’t realize my dad cared. Seven months flew by. He didn’t try to reach out once.
Then again, I didn’t either. I assumed the ball was in his court, but I’m an adult, too. I’m just as capable of opening a line of communication.
“Dad.” My voice trembles. “I’m kinda not okay.”
Another pause. “What do you mean, Beau? Where are you? Do you need me to come get you?”
I cover my face with an arm like a kid trying to hide. “I’m in the hospital. And no, I can manage a flight home on my own.”
Boots crunch on gravel. I assume my dad must be pacing or putting distance between him and his hired help. “You’re scaring me, son. Why the hell are you in the hospital?”
“I’ll explain in person. I think they’re going to release me tomorrow.”
“You’ll fly home then? Can I pick you up from the airport?”
“Yeah. That sounds good. I’ll text you.”
“I love you, Beau.”
“Love you, too, dad.”
I hang up and submit to grief as it crashes over me and takes me under.