Chapter 18
Beau
“So it’s true, you and Claire are mergin’ the ranches,” Mount said on the other end of the phone. I hadn’t talked to him since last week when I kicked him out, but Anna had told him as soon as we had decided. I was honestly surprised it hadn’t ended up in the Whispers yet.
It’d been three days since then, and we were already getting things going.
Cavendish was all for it, just as Joseph predicted.
Now, all we had to worry about was the legal aspects.
Savannah had warned that it could be tricky getting the property lines changed, but was confident she could get it dealt with.
“Yeah,” I replied, taking a sip of beer.
I was on the porch, watching the sunset. It had kinda become mine and Claire’s thing in the last week, but she was home tonight. The nurse told her yesterday that it would be a matter of days before Charlotte passed, and Claire didn’t want to be away for even a second.
“Take it you don’t want my opinion ‘bout it then.”
“Sure don’t.”
Damn, it felt good to say that. Ever since Mount moved out, I felt more confident, more at ease.
I trusted myself completely. It was like taking a full breath for the first time.
And it didn’t hurt that Claire was in my corner to talk some sense into me when I had doubts.
Despite everything she was going through, she encouraged me to believe in myself and trust my gut.
“I think it’s great, son,” he said, and I froze. “It’s what was meant to happen all along.” I had expected criticism like usual, not whatever that was. Approval? Was that what genuine, well-earned approval sounded like coming from Mount McLeod?
Movement in my peripheral vision caught my attention, but I ignored it.
What I couldn’t ignore was the earth-shattering, ear-piercing scream that turned my blood to ice.
I was certain the whole town had heard it.
I looked towards the sound, my heart in my throat, and saw Claire fall to the ground outside her house, her body heaving with sobs as she folded into herself.
I stopped breathing. There was another wailing scream, this one somehow worse than the first. “Dad, I-fuck, I gotta go. It’s Charlotte,” I choked out and hung up.
I’d never run so fast in my life. The closer I got to Claire, the harder it was to look at her.
Her hands were curled in the grass, her body rocking back and forth through the pain.
She cried like something vital had been ripped out of her, like a piece of her heart had been yanked right out of her chest.
“Mama,” she wept, her voice breaking on the word with shuddering gasps. In that moment, she wasn’t my strong, resilient girlfriend who grabbed life by the horns; she was a broken little girl crying out for someone who would never come.
I’d never felt so useless in all my life.
I knelt in front of her, not knowing what to do. “Claire,” I rasped, my throat so tight it felt like it was being crushed.
She clung to me so tightly, her nails dug into my skin where she had grabbed my shirt. “My mom”—she sucked in a ragged breath—“my mom is dead.”
I watched, helpless and heartbroken, as her body shook with each sob.
I stroked her beautiful face, tears of my own falling at the sight of her.
She was absolutely distraught, wrecked beyond repair.
A building was only as strong as its foundation, and Claire just lost the last piece of hers; she was crumbling into nothing more than ash, and I just had to sit and watch.
“S-She’s dead, Beau.” She buried her face in the crook of my neck, and I wrapped her in my arms, pulling her into my lap. Her body trembled against mine as I rocked her. “She’s dead.”
“I know. I’m so sorry, baby,” I whispered shakily. The words felt empty, hollow, pointless. I knew they weren’t enough, nothing would ever be enough. Nothing would bring Charlotte back or fix this hole that just tore its way into Claire’s heart and life.
“I’d do anything to take this hurt for you.” I clenched my teeth, looking up to the sky and forcing myself not to break down. I had to stay strong for her and take care of her. I promised Charlotte I would.
The words were nearly unintelligible as she said, “I don’t know what to do without her.”
“I’m here now. I’ll take care of it. Don’t worry about a single thing.” I stroked her hair and continued to rock her, while she continued to cut my heart open in ways I wasn’t prepared for. I knew this was coming, and yet nothing could’ve prepared me to see her so lost. My girl was unrecognizable.
By the time the coroner came, the sun had nearly vanished from the sky, and the temperature was dropping.
I covered Claire’s face as they took Charlotte’s body away, hardly able to stomach the sight myself.
I didn’t even know if she was awake, but her crying had stopped maybe thirty minutes ago, so I couldn’t be sure.
Emmett followed after the medics, a lost look in his eyes, the only sign that anything was off with him. “You should bring her inside,” he said, his voice flat. “Delilah and Gran are on their way.”
I carried Claire inside, finding Savannah on the couch, staring vacantly at the floor, her face red and blotchy. Her eyes slid over to us slowly, glassy with unshed tears yet somehow also dull. “Hey,” she rasped.
“I’m gonna take her upstairs,” I said, gesturing to Claire. Savannah nodded. Claire was so exhausted she didn’t even stir when I lay her in bed and brushed her hair behind her ear.
I pulled out my phone and sent a quick text to Anna and Colt to let them know, and decided to call Weston.
He answered on the fourth ring. Music blasted in the background, and I winced. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” His smile was evident in his voice, and I hated that I was about to wipe it right off his face.
My eyes drifted shut, my head falling. “Charlotte’s gone,” I whispered.
“Shit,” he hissed. There was some shuffling, and then the background noise disappeared. “How is she?”
I knew he wasn’t asking about Claire. “I’m not sure. Numb? I’ve been with Claire outside. She cried so hard she wore herself out and is sleepin’ now.”
There was only silence because what could you even say to that? There was nothing to be said. Nothing worthwhile anyway.
“You gotta come home,” I said, voice cracking. “I don’t know what happened with you two, but”—I looked down at Claire, at her swollen eyes and dry lips and pale complexion—“Savannah’s gonna need you, man.”
For a moment, all I could hear was his quick breathing. “I…I’ll see what I can do,” he said, and then, softer, “Keep an eye on her for me.” Then he hung up.
The rest of the night dragged on in what I could only equate to a slow form of torture. So many tears, so many ‘I’m sorry for your losses’, so much devastation. I was just glad Claire slept through it all.
I tried to be as helpful as I could, but I just felt like a nuisance and an intruder.
I couldn’t bring myself to leave them, though.
Today had dragged up my own grief in ways I hadn’t expected, memories of when my own mother died fresh in my mind.
I didn’t want to be alone with them, probably as much as the Hayes family didn’t want to be alone right now, either.
We were in the living room, the house too quiet, too still. There was a warmth missing now that Charlotte was no longer here. “Have you heard from Tess?” I asked no one in particular, unable to take the silence anymore.
“I called her from Claire’s phone right after,” Savannah said, staring at the TV that wasn’t even on, her voice emotionless. “She didn’t answer.”
“Maybe she’ll call back soon,” I said, trying to be optimistic. What could have been keeping her away from her family at a time like this? I didn’t understand it.
“I doubt it,” Delilah snapped, scowling at the ground, her chin quivering. “Hasn’t come home in eight fucking years. Only really speaks to Claire. She can stay gone as far as I’m concerned. I’m more a member of this family than she is.”
Leave it to Delilah Chase to be about as subtle as a bomb, regardless of the circumstances.
“I can’t do this,” Savannah whimpered, springing up from the couch and racing up the stairs. Delilah ran after her, a worried look on her face. The muffled sounds of sobbing flowed down the stairs, making my chest tighten.
It was just Emmett and me now, sitting in weighted silence that made me feel like I was drowning. He was stoic, calm. It was unsettling, but then again, he was well acquainted with death. More so than any of us. I found myself wishing I had even a fraction of that strength right now.
“You’re a good man, Beau.” His words cut right through me; it felt like I was failing miserably at this. But who the hell wanted to be a pro at grieving? “I’m glad my sister has you.”
I cleared my throat. “I’m the lucky one,” I replied.
He stared down at the carpet, his mind far off. “When our dad died, Claire held us all together through sheer will; Tess was the one who lost it and ran away. But Tess was our father’s daughter, the epitome of a daddy’s girl.”
The muscles in his jaw ticked as he leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees.
He looked over at me, his eyes had that same haunting look they had the last time we talked about death.
“Claire was our mother’s. This…this might ruin her, Beau.
And I think you might be the only one to stop that from happening. ”
I swallowed roughly. “I’m not goin’ anywhere,” I promised him. I’d told Claire the same sentiment repeatedly, and I realized in this moment that I meant it as much about her family as I did her. As far as I was concerned, they were my family now, too.
I jolted awake to the broken wail of Claire beside me while she tossed and turned in her sleep. I sat up and turned on the bedside lamp. “Claire,” I whispered, stroking her face as she cried out for Charlotte. “Claire, wake up.”
She woke up with a gasp, searching around frantically until her eyes met mine. “Beau?”
“I’m here, baby.” I brushed her hair off her forehead. She was drenched in sweat, her eyes bloodshot.
Her chin quivered, eyes flooding with tears. “My mom—” her face crumpled, and she flung herself at me.
She cried even harder now than she had earlier. Cried to the point of hyperventilating, to the point that I was crying right along with her.
“You’ve got to slow down or you’ll make yourself sick.” I cupped her face in my hands. “Take a deep breath,” I said, but she didn’t listen. Her face was beet-red, her body shaking.
“I c-can’t,” she sobbed. “I don’t w-want to.” Her head fell into my chest. “I just want my mama.”
Bright light flooded the room, and Savannah stood in the doorway, watching her sister fall apart in my arms. “I don’t know what to do,” I confessed, panicked, my voice shaking.
“Get her in the bath.”
Together, Savannah and I stripped Claire and got her in the shower while she cried, the water like ice at first. She jolted when it hit her, the shock enough to calm her down slightly.
I stood behind her, fully clothed, taking her weight as the water beat down on her and heated up slowly.
Eventually, she settled more, only little hiccuping whimpers leaving her.
I reached for her shampoo and massaged it into her scalp, her body loosening as I went. “Turn around, baby,” I instructed softly, and she listened, although it was slow. The kind of slowness that came with bone-deep exhaustion.
I rinsed the soap out of her hair and washed her body while Savannah conditioned her hair, scrunching it into her curls. We worked together in silence, focused on Claire, who had gone quiet, too. I could hardly stand to look at her, at the vacancy in her eyes that were usually so full of life.
When we got her out, I dried her off and wrapped a towel around her. I looked to Savannah. “What about her hair?” It was dripping wet, even though Savannah had wrung out all the water. It was like a sponge, having soaked up every drop.
“You should braid it,” Savannah said.
“I don’t know how.”
“I’ll show you.”
Claire’s hair was a tangle between my fingers while Savannah sat next to me on the edge of her bed, giving instructions like: “Take that piece and bring it to the middle,” “Add more hair to that piece and bring it all to the middle,” “Keep it tight so it stays while she sleeps.”
When I was done, it looked like shit, and I was irritated, but at least it was clean and out of her face. “It’ll do, I guess,” I murmured.
“Practice makes perfect,” she said. “Not the worst I’ve ever seen.” There was a far-off look in her eyes, a sadness and longing that had nothing to do with Charlotte.
“I called Weston,” I said. Her eyes snapped to mine; it was the most alert I’d seen her all day. “He’s tryin’ to get home.”
She swallowed, blinked. “I need to go back to bed.” And with that, she got up and left. Now I wasn’t so sure I should’ve called him.
I got Claire in bed and took off my wet clothes. She didn’t say anything as I climbed in next to her and pulled her body to mine. I knew she wasn’t asleep, but I didn’t push her to talk. She just traced shapes along my chest, her touch featherlight.
“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” she whispered, her voice weak. Nothing like the Claire I knew. Emmett’s warning resurfaced in my mind: This might ruin her.
I wouldn’t let that happen.
“You’re never gonna find out,” I replied, and she nuzzled her head into my chest, lacing our fingers together as she drifted off.
Her phone buzzed on the bedside table next to her, the screen’s glow illuminating her room. I reached for it, my grip tightening on the phone as I read the message from an unsaved number.
Unknown: Our deepest condolences to you and your family during this difficult time. If there’s anything my family or I can do for you, don’t hesitate to reach out. The offer for Golden Bridle still stands. -PH
I hugged Claire closer to me, glaring at the message.
That fucker was preying on her grief. Rage clouded my vision.
Disgust twisted my stomach. I deleted the message, clenching my teeth so hard my jaw ached.
Claire couldn’t wake up to that; she needed to focus on herself and her family right now, not someone trying to screw her out of her family’s legacy.
I set the phone down and stared at the ceiling, coming to the realization that there wasn’t any level the Hollises wouldn’t stoop to. They were shameless, relentless, and a lot more determined than I had originally thought.
I’d tell her about the text. Just not now, not when she was hanging on by a thread.