27. Twenty-three
Twenty-three
Fallon
“ Y ou didn’t have to do this.” I opened the bag and peeked inside, a smile blooming on my face. “Beau. This is…”
Rubbing the back of his neck and focusing on a chip in the paint on the doorframe, he shrugged like he hadn’t just made a terrible day better.
“I spent many years griping about having a sister, but she imparted some wisdom to me years ago.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah. Shut up and get the tampons, and don’t forget the chocolate.”
His shy blush was so damn cute. A bashful Beau proved a rare sight, and I adored it.
Adored him.
Adored that I could adore him.
“Want to share?” I asked, lifting the grocery bag in an offering. “I could use some company.”
A grin broke on his face, his hand dropping from his neck as he eagerly stepped inside. “I would love nothing more. The tampons are all for you, though.”
I smiled as he wandered to the couch and sat beside the pile of pillows and a heating pad. It was excruciating to turn that thing on in the summer, but my cramps demanded relief. Periods sometimes debilitated me, and I had to call in sick today.
“Want me to make you some tea?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder toward the kitchen. “Get you something? Rub your feet? Be a punching bag?” The way his smile lit up his entire energy…
“Put on something trashy to watch?” I adjusted the floor fan to blow directly at the couch.
Beau shot me a pointed look before grabbing the remote and getting to work. “Girl. I’ve got you.”
I snorted an unflattering laugh, not caring when my uterus battled to explode out of my abdomen. Wincing, I hobbled over. Beau’s brows pinched in concern as he moved pillows around and helped me get comfortable.
“You sure I can’t do something?”
“You’ve done plenty,” I said, gesturing to the bag of goodies. “It’s the pits. Not much else to say about it. If you think my murder podcasts are a horror show, my periods are worse. Thank the lord birth control helps, but endometriosis is no joke.”
He frowned sympathetically and pulled my legs across his lap. “Damn, Fal. I’m sorry.”
“I’m used to it,” I assured him.
I learned early there were worse side effects than cramps. Bleeding through my pants in freshman year biology class jumped to mind. Not yet on birth control to better manage my symptoms; my periods had been unpredictable.
Jake intercepted me in my mad dash rush to the bathroom as he rounded the corner, late to class. Tears streaked my cheeks on that warm spring day because I didn’t wear a jacket to school. There was no hiding.
Without comment, he handed me his hoodie to tie around my waist and hide the stain spreading on my jeans. Then he drove me home, skipping the rest of his classes.
But two days later, when I returned to school and was relentlessly teased, Beau wrapped his arm around my shoulders and walked with me down the hall like we were best friends because his popularity sheltered my reputation.
“If you act like it doesn’t bother you, you steal their power. Head up, Fal. It’s only a big deal if you let it be.”
He threatened anyone who uttered a teasing word in my presence—or his. The torment didn’t go beyond my first day back .
I studied his profile as we sat on the couch, my chest squeezing tight.
Beau’s hand slipped beneath my shirt, his attention on the TV as he rubbed my abdomen absentmindedly.He’d always made life better simply because he existed in it.
“Thanks, Beau,” I murmured, brushing over his arm. “You’re wonderfully thoughtful, and I’m so glad you’re here.”
His head dropped to the back of the couch, eyes locked on mine.“Honestly? I feel selfish. When you said Jake was busy today, I got excited that I could hang with you and do something for you.”
“Oh, Beau.” I sat up, dropping my legs from his lap. “That’s the very definition of unselfish.”
You’re feeling left out. I cleared my throat and gave a gentle smile. He wanted fun. Jake wanted fun. This was supposed to be fun, not relationship-defining, but my heart didn’t listen.
“You do plenty for me. You always have. I’m…” Deep breath. “Jake would drop everything to come if I needed him. I called you because I wanted you to be here.”
His eyes fixed on the hand beneath my shirt as he carefully said, “Right. You wanted a friend.”
“No.” I leaned forward to cup his face and force him to look at me. “I wanted you .”
“I don’t want to break any rules by being here or overstepping.”
“Jake knows you’re here,” I said quietly. “I told him I wanted to invite you over.”
“Shit. How did that go?” Beau wetted his lips, running a hand through his hair. “I know I’m hard up in life at the moment, but I’ve no desire to get murdered.”
The years since Beau’s on-set accident had been rough. He was so sad at Christmas, uncharacteristically down and trying to pull himself up with a forced smile and fake laugh.
I’d been equally down and heartbroken that I pushed Jake away because I was convinced my brokenness was a burden he shouldn’t bear.
During my time with Beau at Christmas, I finally stopped feeling broken.
“You’re not defective, Fallon. You’re just as glorious as the day before you got that call. Just as glorious as you’ll be tomorrow and all the tomorrows after. Jake knows that, too. If you tell him, he’ll love you just the same. So… tell him, okay? ”
Beau was a man who thought of others before himself and who did what was right, even if it was hard. And though their temperaments and dispositions differed wildly, Beau and Jake both had good hearts.
I placed my palm on his chest. “You think Jake would murder his best friend?”
He grinned. “No, but I think he’d murder me.”
With a laugh, I rested my head on his shoulder. Beau could take the shit of life and make it fun. Lighter. Just… better. He was a hug in human form, like slipping into a pair of sweatpants after a long day at work.
We said it was fun, but it was so much more—it had always been more.And with more hearts involved, I worried this time would be worse when Beau left again.