30. Liam
thirty
Liam
T he morning passes with no word from Beau.
I text him three times before lunch, an unsettling feeling brewing in my gut.
He’s probably asleep.
From what I’ve read online, a seizure can take a serious toll on your body. Add in the fact that I haven’t been allowing him to rest much in the evenings.
If I don’t hear back by the end of the day, I’ll call the hospital.
Even with that decision made, the motivation to carry out my work evades me. All I can think about throughout my recording sessions is Beau and Stasi, and how I fucked everything up.
Not only did I trigger a seizure in Beau, I abandoned Stasi outside my house like a complete asshole. I was too stuck in my head, convinced I had no right to touch her.
I owe her more than an apology.
Thankfully, Emma’s running the show with her cut-throat nails, juggling artists and polishing tracks, while I’m stuck tangled in a net of fear, dreading a text message with bad news.
I’m at war with myself on whether or not to call it quits and drive up to the hospital right now. Part of me believes Beau is hiding something. That he lied about wanting sleep to get rid of us .
After all, he lied about having a hotel reservation when I picked him up from the airport, he wasn’t forthcoming about getting kicked out of Lithos, and he kept his feelings to himself during our hookups.
How many times has he tried to save me from uncomfortable situations I wasn’t ready to deal with?
Now’s not the time to wallow. Hail and Z are about to show up to lay down some new material.
I should have rescheduled with the mood I’m in, but what kind of professional would I be if I turned away artists because I’m struggling with personal shit?
Fans have been frothing at the mouth to hear more of Z and Hail ever since they reunited publicly on stage. So, I do my best to adjust my attitude and dismiss my staff early to save some face for having to deal with me today.
Emma hesitates on her way out. “Hope your day gets better, boss.”
I release a heavy breath when she’s gone.
What a fucking disaster.
Hiding in my office, I glare at my phone on my desk, willing Beau to call. He has every right to be done with me. Both of them do. But if he is done, I just want to know that he’s going to be taken care of wherever he ends up. That someone will be waiting for him back in Phoenix.
Bells above the entrance jingle. Shortly after, Hail peeks his head in my office. “I don't think I'll ever get used to seeing Liam Beckner behind a desk. When do you pull out the suit and tie?”
Sighing, I tuck my phone into my pocket. “Didn’t you come here to record something?”
So much for my attitude adjustment.
Hail’s brows knit together. “Yeah. You okay? ”
“Fine.” I brush past him and nod in greeting at Z clutching his guitar bag in the lobby.
As they warm up in the recording room, I’m sucked deeper and deeper into mental quicksand. I start to question if the summer even happened. Was it all a dream, and I’ll wake up alone?
Hail lays down his recordings first. When he’s finished, he comes to sit on the stool next to me as Z cycles into the recording room.
“You’re just as experienced with the equipment as I am. You don’t need me here,” I mumble.
“Do you even know me, Liam? I need you like I need oxygen.”
He fiddles with something in his pocket, sneaking me a glimpse of a small velvet box. “Don’t think I can wait any longer.”
My jaw clenches. Unfortunately for Hail, I might be the worst person to support him right now.
The front door opens, and my gut sinks further as I glimpse long blonde hair in my peripheral vision. Fuck . If I look at Stas and see one ounce of sadness reflected back at me in those pretty brown eyes, I’ll lose my shit.
Would she blame me if Beau decides to leave? How the hell did I think I could handle a relationship with two people when I’ve never even had one?
Hail bounces a knee on the footrest of the stool at a rate that has my blood pressure spiking. I reach over to stop him. “Quit. You’re making me want to smoke.”
He throws me a heated look. “Proposing’s a big deal, Liam. Not like you’d know.”
I snort. “Damn right. ”
The words don’t feel right coming out, especially with Stasi nearby. I don’t know that I’ll ever change my mind on the idea of tying someone to me after witnessing how my dad treated my mom.
But if that were something Stas or Beau wanted...
Pulling a cigarette from the pack Beau left in my house, I prepare to light it. Hail snatches it from my fingers. “Don’t start that up. You’ll stink up the place.”
“S’my studio,” I grumble, tugging out another cigarette and lighting it up.
We fall into silence as Z strings together another song that will dominate the charts. These boys don’t fucking miss.
When Hail slips into the recording room to check on Z, Stasi finally speaks. “I brought you something to eat. I wasn’t sure if you had lunch.”
Fucking hell . She would be worried about me. She’s built that way. Thoughtful and sweet.
I run a hand along my jaw, struggling to keep my composure. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I wanted to.”
Words of apology dance on my tongue, but then Hail interrupts, asking if I can listen through the track one more time.
As much as I want to kick him out, I can tell he’s biding his time while he gathers up the confidence to make a life-changing decision. I told him there’s no reason to be nervous. Z’s not going to say no.
But I know how my twins are.
I mutter a ‘hold on’ to Stas before hitting play on the track and doing my best to focus on the music washing over me. Once my perfectionism is satisfied with the mix, I turn around, prepared to grovel for forgiveness.
Only, Stas is gone.
Damn it . Why do I keep fucking up ?
The thought of losing her, of losing both of them, has me standing up and knocking on the recording room window, breaking up Hail and Z’s little make-out session. I drop a comment about them paying me by the hour, and Hail flips me off.
Thankfully, he takes Z’s hand and guides him out of the recording room. His amber eyes meet mine. “Call you tomorrow, yeah?”
I give him a tight nod. “Yeah.”
The tension in his body eases slightly. With rosy cheeks, Z adds a shy half-wave as they slip out the door.
The moment they’re gone, I pull out my phone and call Stas. It goes straight to voicemail.
I call the hospital next, and a receptionist connects me to the neurology unit where a nurse informs me that Beau is no longer in their care.
What. The. Fuck.
Fear drags hot claws through me. Immediately, I hang up and call Beau.
“...you’ve reached Beau Whitaker. I’m probably on stage shredding right now, so leave me a message—”
“Damn it!”
Why didn’t he tell me he was released? I could have picked him up.
Is that why Stas left? Do they not want me anymore?
Rushing to lock up, I speed home to find a random car parked in front of my porch. I knock on the driver’s window. The guy apprehensively rolls it down.
“Who the fuck are you?” I demand.
Alarmed by my aggression, he holds out his phone with the Uber app displayed. “Uh, I’m here to pick up Beau? ”
My pulse hammers in my ears as I storm into my house. I nearly collide with Beau coming down the stairs, his backpack slung over his shoulder. There’s still fucking tape residue from the IV on his arm.
“Liam.”
His panicked tone shreds me. I think about how wrecked Hail was last year when Z left him for Ireland. How I’d held him in a hotel room while he collapsed and cried until he was nothing more than a husk.
My heart rate spikes. “Explain.”
Dropping his head, Beau slips past me. No matter how much I want to grab him and demand answers, I refuse to lay hands on him like that. I have no right to be upset if he wants to leave me.
I left him once.
His hand rests on the doorknob, and then I’m breathing too fast.
“Fucking really , Beau? Will you talk to me for a minute?”
I have no right to be mad at him. I know that. But I’m not in control of my feelings right now, and it’s a terrifying thought.
“Did this summer mean nothing to you?” I ask in a softer tone.
The hand not clutching the doorknob balls into a fist. “ Fuck . It meant everything, Liam.”
“Then stay. Don’t break her heart. I’ll step aside.”
He turns around and brings his body flush against mine, tears glistening in his eyes. “What’s it gonna take for you to forgive yourself?”
My breaths are coming in short, hot pants. “I don’t know.”
His head falls to my shoulder, and I give in to the need to slide my arms around him. “I don’t want to lose you.”
Beau chokes on a laugh. “You don’t know how badly I’ve wanted those words from you.”
“Then stay,” I repeat.
He buries his face in my shirt. “Liam. I can’t .”
“Is it the house in Phoenix? I’ll fucking buy it off you if you have a mortgage.”
“It’s not the house,” he murmurs.
“What is it then?”
He shakes his head. “You don’t want me.”
Anger snaps through me. “I want you.”
“You don’t. I swear you don’t.”
I ease back and lift his chin. “Why wouldn’t I want you, Beau?”
He drops his arms to his sides in frustration. “Because I’m a mess!”
“I fail to see how that would change my desire for you.”
He steps away from me. “Okay, then. How about the fucking tumor in my head? Would that do it? Is that something you want to sign up for? Surgeries and treatment and caretaking? Because that’s not how I imagine a relationship going. That’s not something I want to dump on anyone.”
I’m not proud of my silence, but I’m afraid if I open my mouth at that moment, all that will come out is more anger. I’m pissed at this entire fucked up situation. Pissed that someone like Beau should have to suffer from something so far outside of his control.
“How long have you known?” I finally ask.
His gaze drops. “Found out yesterday.”
I should have paid closer attention to him. I should have caught the symptoms. The morning he stumbled out of bed. The headaches. How he sometimes shakes out his right hand in-between strumming.