His eyes widened when he stepped fully into the tension-filled kitchen, a low whistle leaving him. “Your parents are right behind me,” he warned softly as he turned back around and left.
I stepped away from Beau and glanced around, wiping at my cheeks and surprised to find them wet. Feeling frantic and out of sorts and sure the kitchen must have looked the same. But it was just as I’d left it.
Once I had the coffee pot and kettle started, I turned to go greet everyone and found Beau standing under the archway that led out to the entryway. Hand pressed to his chest again and head slowly shaking as he glanced back at me.
Letting his hand fall, a mixture of a hushed laugh and a cry that was pure pain escaped him. “Every last breath,” he whispered, the words strained. “And then long after.”
I watched him go, trembling from the sobs moving through my body and tearing at my soul.
Oh God.
What have I done?
What have I done?
“Beau.”
I stopped at my father-in-law’s voice, rocking back when my body desperately wanted to get farther than the dozen-or-so feet I’d made it past the porch of my house. To get to my truck and get out of there before the night could get worse.
If it could get worse.
Lifting my head, I glanced over to where he was saying something to my mother-in-law as she headed into the house, waving at me with a saddened expression as she did.
I offered a halfhearted wave back, then watched my father-in-law start my way.
“You going?” he asked as he neared, keeping his voice soft so it wouldn’t carry.
I nodded, unable to respond when this time seemed so much more final.
Because Savannah had tried separating us in so many ways in one conversation. From claiming I had nothing to do with what was happening in our business to putting her wedding and engagement rings in my hand and saying I was, in fact, losing her.
He clicked his tongue and inhaled slowly. “We didn’t talk much after we arrived because the kids were awake. Savannah told Christi and me that they don’t know anything’s going on.”
“Right,” I choked out and wanted to dig a hole for myself when I realized he knew what happened.
At least, he knew Savannah’s side . . . Madison’s side.
He turned and glanced at the house before walking away from it, nodding for me to follow. “You should know, Savannah called us after that first day. Told us about the fight with your brother and what was said.”
My head slanted. “Jason—”
He held up a hand. “She called us again after Hunter told her what really happened between you and Madison.” He stopped walking once we were halfway down the driveway and turned to look at me, heaving a slow sigh. “Beau, I misjudged you greatly when you were younger. Christi and I both did, and we’re sorry for that.”
“I know, sir.” They’d apologized to me for years; he didn’t need to continue. I was the one who needed to be apologizing.
But the person who deserved every apology and explanation wouldn’t talk to me.
“We’ve watched you grow up, caring for our daughter along the way. We’ve seen you at your best and worst, and even at your worst, we’re damn lucky to have you as our son-in-law.”
Fuck.
My jaw ached from the strain I put on it to hold back the emotions that were already at the front of everything else from what had just gone down with Savannah.
“We were deeply saddened when we got that first call, but Christi and I knew something wasn’t right.” His shoulders lifted. “Cheating happens . . . however sad it is, it’s true. Think it says a lot about your character that we knew you wouldn’t have.”
“Jason, I—” I began, choking over my words, my head shaking. “I appreciate that, but I don’t know what to do. There’s so much she doesn’t know, and I can’t . . . I can’t lose her.”
“You won’t,” he said confidently, but the rings in my hand felt like they were burning me. “You made some mistakes, I won’t tell you that you didn’t. But everyone makes mistakes, and couples work through them. Come out stronger for them.”
“What if we can’t?”
He gave me a sad smile. “I don’t believe that. Not the two of you.”
“What if she won’t?”
For a long time, Jason just stood there, seeming to think over my question and analyzing the desperation in my tone. After a while, he carefully reached out and put a hand on my shoulder, encouragement and a hint of amusement on his face when not one damn thing about my life was amusing.
“At one point, long, long ago, I would’ve given anything for my daughter to give up on you. Because she didn’t, I was shown just how wrong I was and how wrong people can be about a person. I also lucked out in the son-in-law department and got some damn cute grandkids out of it.”
My chin trembled and I dropped my head, my eyes closing tight against the burning there.
“Now, I’m not much of a prayer, but I’ll be praying that my daughter will be able to see through the hurt this has caused and find forgiveness so she won’t give up on you.”
I nodded, the movement sharp and rigid as I struggled to thank him—to say anything—but the rock lodged in my throat prevented it.
“It’s gonna be okay,” he said, letting his hand fall from my shoulder. “Speed bumps are hard to get over in marriages. Mountains are harder.”
“I never wanted to hurt her,” I finally managed to say, words strangled.
“Oh.” He tapped his hand on his chest a few times, just above his heart. “I know, son.” Taking a step away, he gestured toward the house. “When will you be back?”
“After work tomorrow.”
He offered a small smile. “Looking forward to it. I’ll watch after our girl until then.”
“Jason, thank you.” My mouth parted as words failed me for a moment. “I don’t deserve your kindness after what I did.”
A stunned breath left him and, after a second, he reclaimed his step. “I remember a very determined, very confident boy who remained unnervingly polite, despite the horrible things we said to him for years.” He lifted his brows meaningfully. “You made an honest mistake, Beau. You made a worse one by trying to cover it, but from what I gather, you weren’t the only party in on it. As for the fight with your brother, well . . .” He slid his hands into his pockets and shrugged. “You know how I’ve always felt about your fighting. However, when it’s manifested from an instinct to protect your family from any kind of hurt?” He took a few steps back, shrugging again as he said, “I think I might just understand that.”
I nodded, grateful for his thoughts. But it didn’t matter when Savannah didn’t see it the same way.
“Get somewhere safe,” he called out as he turned.
“Goodnight, sir,” I said, stare drawn to the house. To where my wife and kids were.
My entire world.
With a jagged exhale, I started back up the drive and over to where my truck was hidden on the side of the house. Each night I’d left had torn a part of my soul, but this was different.
Putting Savannah’s rings in my pocket, I pulled out my phone and climbed into my truck. Movements slow as I brought up the messages and ignored the impulse to go to Savannah’s text thread.
Going to Sawyer’s instead, I scrolled through to where he’d sent Cayson’s number a few weeks back, then saved it to my phone before tapping out a message.
Each word seeming to take forever. My hands shaking. Body vibrating with all that pain and anger storming through me.
Me: Cays, it’s Beau.
Me: How much to buy the condo from y’all?
My hand clenched tight around the phone when I sent the last message. My heart wrenching from my chest and leaving a void.
“Fuck,” I shouted, throwing my phone against the door and letting my head fall back against the seat as everything crumbled around me.
Tears falling relentlessly because I was losing her
.
My wife.
My wife.
My entire world.
“God damnit,” I said through clenched teeth as I cranked the engine and quickly slammed my truck into reverse. Needing to get out of there before I made things worse by going back into the house and demanding Savannah talk to me.
Trying to force her to talk tonight had led to her giving me her rings.
I was terrified she’d ask for a divorce the next time.
I already didn’t know how to survive this grief that seemed to be pulling me down into a hollow of torment. I wasn’t sure there was any surviving what came next.
But when I pulled up in front of the condo, everything hit me all over again.
I’d spent half of my life saving to buy the plantation house, sure it would one day be mine and Savannah’s. Knowing I would do anything to make that dream come true—that it would be the only house I would ever buy.
But our house and business was apparently only Savannah’s now, and I was staring at the place I’d been crashing at for weeks and was about to make permanent because of a thirteen-year-old mistake.
Because I was losing my wife.
My family.
I gripped at the fierce ache in my chest as I opened up my door and got out of the truck, snatching my phone off the floorboard as I did. There wasn’t a response from Cayson but there was a small crack in the corner of the screen from where I’d thrown it. And I wondered again what Savannah must’ve done to absolutely shatter hers.
Regardless, between that and her refusing to talk to me in person, I’d understood: Stop calling. Stop texting.
So, I had.
And then I’d pushed her too far.
I made it up the walkway and into the condo, each step taking all my energy when I felt so weighed down and hollow at the same time. My body sagging against the door for long minutes as that harrowing moment played out in my mind, over and over like an unbidden nightmare.
Pushing forward, I trudged over to the dining room table and fell heavily into one of the chairs before pulling Savannah’s rings out and setting them down. The sound of them hitting the wood clawed at my soul and tore me open as I wondered how I was supposed to fix it.
She’d ignored me completely for two weeks. Then a few days near her, hardly saying a word, had resulted in this new hell. Trying to talk to her felt like a death sentence to our marriage. Giving her space seemed like I was accepting what she wanted—what she’d said.
“No, this is losing your wife.”
I glanced up when a key sounded in the lock for the second night in a row, struggling to control the desperation and fear and suffering I could feel pouring from me as the door opened and the lights flipped on.
“Beau,” Sawyer called out, but Cayson was the first one to come into my line of sight, head shifting my way and shoulders sagging with a heavy sigh.
“This isn’t the time for Dixie Chicks,” I said, the words scraping up my throat and showing every ounce of my pain.
“Yeah, well, that was some S-O-S text,” Cayson said as he and Sawyer started my way just as the door shut.
My stare drifted past them in time to see Hunter come into view. Expression all kinds of guarded as he studied me as if waiting for me to go off on him.
“Forever,” he muttered. “I heard you. But we told you we’d be there for you.”
“And that means telling you that you can’t buy the condo,” Cayson said as he took a seat at the table. “You and Savannah are gonna figure this out. I told you, just be patient.”
My head moved in fast, tight jerks as I slid my hand forward on the table, the metal and diamonds scraping against the wood. “We’re not,” I confessed, lifting my hand and closing my eyes to block out the way their faces fell in unison. “She’s done.”
“I was thinking we could meet up with the boys tomorrow for Amber Fest,” Madison went on, never stopping from her ramble even though she’d changed the subject three times, “and then after, maybe we could spend the night at each other’s houses because I may have heard the Dixon house is going to be parent-free tomorrow.” She gave me a bright smile, looking all kinds of proud of herself.
I sucked in a small breath as I glanced up at Beau from where I was tucked into his side, pressing my hand to his stomach as I spoke to get his attention from Hunter. “Your parents are gonna be gone tomorrow night?”
Beau just looked down at me, a slow, wicked smirk tugging at his mouth as his dark blue eyes held mine. “Got plans?”
I bit at my bottom lip to hide the ridiculous smile on my face as hummingbirds took flight in my stomach. “Guess we’ll see.”
A rumble of disbelief rolled up his throat. “Uh-huh.”
I gripped at his football jersey as pure excitement swept through me, then focused on Madison as I began the process of responding to her. “One, you’re not gonna change my mind. Coffee is meant to have creamer or something else in it. Two, you’re absolutely insane, you have that routine nailed. Madi, you’re one of the best on the squad. And I say one of because I’m out there,” I said jokingly, complete with a dramatic flip of my long ponytail.
She pushed at my shoulder, a wild laugh tumbling free. “Brat.”
“Three—I forgot what three was,” I mumbled as I tried to think back to her long-winded, totally Madi-esque ramble.
“I asked if you’ve seen my that.”
“Oh right, your that,” I said with a roll of my eyes. “Except, I don’t know what that you’re talking about.”
“Her cheer jacket,” Hunter said from Beau’s other side.
My mouth popped open, but the answer stalled in my throat. “How does he do that?” I asked on a whisper instead.
“Friend, I have no idea,” she said just as softly. “But it makes my life a whole lot easier.”
“With all your this and thats?” I teased, dancing away when she playfully swatted at me. Once I was back by Beau’s side, I said, “I dunno where your jacket is. Have you checked Hunter’s bedroom?”
Her stare drifted to the side as if she hadn’t thought to before a giddy, little smile crossed her face.
“Gross. Gross. Whatever you’re thinking, gross.”
She gave me a dry look. “You’re one to talk.”
“And four,” I began, ignoring that because she was absolutely right, “I am totally down for Amber Fest and spending the night.”
“Oh, Miss Riley.”
The four of us stopped, and I turned, looking back at where the slightly frenzied voice had come from. My expression shifting into something more adult appropriate—and totally fake—when I saw the guidance counselor coming our way.
“Good morning, Mrs. Warin. How are you today?”
“Oh, I’m really good. You know, it’s Friday,” she said, voice softening as she closed in on us, travel mug in her grasp and large purse falling from her shoulder. Her eyes darted from me to Beau and then back again. “I was wondering if I could speak with you?”
That fake smile became a lot more fixed as I tried to figure out why the guidance counselor would want to speak to me for the first time in all the years that I’d been at the school, but I just nodded. “Sure. After school?”
“I was thinking now, actually.” When I just stood there, she hurried to add, “I’ll give you a pass to first period if we chat too long. I know y’all are busy, and you have the pep rally for tonight’s game.” She lifted her hands in forced excitement. “Go Eagles.”
“Yay,” Madi said from beside me, almost as unenthusiastically as Mrs. Warin had, and a breath of a laugh punched from my chest.
“Uh, yeah. Yes,” I said, head bobbing all kinds of awkwardly. “Of course. I’d love to talk.” I tried to avoid the curious look from my best friend but couldn’t escape Beau’s when I turned in his hold to grab my bag that he always insisted on carrying.
Fierce.
Passionate.
Silently letting me know he was there for me and would be there when it was done. Wh
atever it was.
He trailed the tips of his fingers over my forearm, then stepped back. But even as he walked backward with Hunter and Madison—who were speaking quietly and stealing glances my way—he didn’t look away from me, holding me in all that captivating intensity.
“You ready?”
I looked to Mrs. Warin, fixing that smile back on my face as I turned to follow her. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Sorry to catch you in the halls so early, and today,” she said as she quickly maneuvered to the cluster of offices at the front of the school. “As I said, I know you have the pep rally.” She waved her mug in the air. “I don’t keep up with sports much, but I see the signs around school. Undefeated, huh?”
“Yes, ma’am, and this is the final game before playoffs.”
She nodded, trying to look enthusiastic. “Exciting. And how’s Beau handling the pressure? That must be hard on him, I imagine. On all the players,” she added as an afterthought.
I missed a step at the unexpected question. “Um, he, uh—” I shook away the confusion and warning bells that rose up because it was ridiculous to get suspicious of her line of questioning.
She was a guidance counselor. She was supposed to be invested in our lives.
“He’s great, actually. He loves playing. It helps him with . . . it just helps him,” I finished quickly.
She sucked in a deep breath when we reached her door, then gave me a comical look. “That’s about the extent of my sports questions. I’m probably the only Texan who really doesn’t care for football.” She lifted her travel mug over her mouth and whispered, “Don’t tell anyone.”
“Your secret’s safe with me,” I assured her.
She pretended to sag in relief as she opened the door and ushered me in. “Thank goodness. Have a seat, get comfy.”
I placed my bag down and sat on the little couch she had in her office as she hurried around, setting things down and turning things on, murmuring to herself and to me as she did.
Asking how the school year was starting off, if I was excited for my final year, and what colleges I was applying to.
But with the way she’d stop and ask before scurrying around again while I answered, I had a feeling none of those questions were why I was there. Questions I would think would be why I was there. And it had those warning bells ringing in the back of my head again.
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