Physis (Phoebe Reede: The Untold Story #4)

by Michelle Irwin

  When Dad excused himself, Beau sighed audibly in relief, causing me to giggle.

  “Do ya want your daddy to murder me while I sleep?”

  “He wouldn’t. He’s very fond of you.”

  Beau raised a sceptical brow at me, but a grin crossed his lips at the same time, causing his dimple to cut into his cheek and dissipate the seriousness of his glare. “You’re gonna get me in trouble.”

  “C’mon, he knows that you . . . care for me.” I grabbed Beau’s hand and dragged him to my room. Before long, the rabble would be home and I wasn’t ready to face them so soon after my latest flashback.

  “Did he talk to ya about the immigration lawyer and everythin’?”

  “Yeah. He wanted to make sure I was okay with it before he did anything.”

  Seeming to understand where I needed to be, Beau pushed open the door to my room. “And are ya?”

  “I’m not ready to say goodbye.”

  “That ain’t answerin’ the question.”

  I paused. Wasn’t it? What more did Beau want?

  I FOUND MY way over to my bed, settling onto it while I tried to work out what Beau meant and what he wanted me to say.

  He sat beside me and gathered my hands into his. “I’ve got a life back in the States. Maybe I got no future in racin’, but I got the Lake Retreat. I’ve got Cass and Hope, and Mitch and Joe.”

  Was he trying to tell me he’d be going home? That he wanted to go back?

  When I tugged my hands back into my lap, he frowned and reached up to cup my cheek.

  “But I’m willin’ to walk away from all o’ that for you. If ya want me.”

  “Of course I do.”

  “I need ya to be sure.”

  I scooted closer to him. “I’m not sure about a lot of things at the moment. I don’t know if we’ll ever be together again. I’m not sure how I’ll handle being back in the car under race conditions. I don’t know how I’m going to deal with the new baby when Mum’s due date rolls around. So much is uncertain for me."

  Beau’s gaze bounced between my eyes and my lips as I spoke.

  “But if there’s one thing I am sure of, it’s you. There will be days where I’ll need to push you away, but I’ll always want you to come back.”

  He leant toward me. “Always? Are ya sure?”

  “Positive,” I breathed.

  The air between us filled with our joined breaths as we gravitated closer to one another.

  “Good.” The word had barely left him when his lips were on mine. My hands raised to cup his cheeks as our tongues tangled together.

  I twisted in place to get my legs around his waist, and he pulled me closer to him while I focused on the kiss. When his hands took their now-familiar position—one on my waist and the other tangled in the hair at my nape—I wanted more. Not everything, but more. Without breaking away to warn him what I was doing, I ran one of my hands along his arm around my neck. My fingertips trailed along his skin and he hummed against my lips in response. When my hand found his fingers, I guided them around the side of my throat. Under my direction, he caressed my jaw and then stroked along the front of my neck.

  My mind spun and the past threatened to interfere again, but I fought back by focusing on the gentle movement of his fingers. His touch wasn’t like the ones that had enclosed my throat and threatened to stop my breathing. Instead, his fingertips skimmed lightly over my skin as though painting brushstrokes on the most delicate canvas.

  It gave me hope.

  My breathing sped as his lips left mine and peppered kisses down my jaw. They pressed soft and delicate trails just below my ear. A low growl built in his throat as his mouth travelled onto the column of my throat.

  I tipped my head back as he nuzzled the skin beneath my jaw. He breathed through his nose, each breath choppy and desperate. Like he had back in the States, he murmured my name against my skin like a near-silent prayer.

  His hand trailed ahead of his lips, brushing over my collarbone seconds before his needful mouth sucked against it.

  His trail over my skin shifted lower still. His fingers dipped into my blouse, brushing over my scar.

  I shoved him away and scuttled up the bed, drawing the collar of my blouse higher.

  Seeming momentarily dazed, it took him a second to process what had happened and then his horror-struck gaze found me. “I’m sorry, darlin’, I got—”

  Holding up my hand, and trying to catch my breath, I signalled for him to stop talking. “It’s my fault,” I said. “I shouldn’t have pushed it.”

  The way his gaze flickered from concerned to hungry told me the heated kiss was playing in his head. “I don’t mind.”

  I held my shirt tighter. “I do.”

  “I understand. I’m just tryin’ ta say that I wouldn’t say no to doin’ it ag’in if ya ever wanna.” His lips curled up at the ends. “Ya just need to let me know what I did wrong. Why ya needed to make it stop.”

  I clenched my teeth as I considered his request. He deserved to know. It was part of the reason I didn’t think I’d ever be able to go all the way—even if he seemed to be chipping away at that wall as deftly as he’d worked on the one on my heart.

  “Please don’t be disgusted,” I whispered.

  He covered half the distance between us. “Never, darlin’.”

  Closing my eyes so I didn’t have to see the look on his face, I undid the first button on my blouse and peeled back one side. “You . . . You touched this.”

  I braced, ready for his fingers to explore the lines that made up the scar on my chest, to ponder their meaning and cause. Would he see the letters that I saw every time I looked down, or would he assume it was random lines and patterns?

  Instead of tracing the lines of the scar, he used his hand to guide mine to cover my chest again.

  “He tried to make me his. This was his way of staking his claim over me before he killed me, and now I have to wear it forever. The doctors can’t say whether it’ll fade or not. I can’t even touch it to put any of the scar reduction shit on it.”

  “I hate him too,” Beau whispered, reminding me of our earlier conversation, before planting a tender kiss on my forehead.

  “I’m sorry I can’t be more like we used to be,” I muttered in reply as I redid the top button on my blouse.

  Beau twisted to lie down on the bed beside me, before lifting his arm and offering me the space in the crook of his shoulder. “I’m happy with what we have. Ya need to start believin’ that.”

  I crawled into position. “I try. I do. I just worry one day you’ll realise it’d all be easier with someone else. Someone who doesn’t flinch at innocent touches or have flashbacks and nightmares.”

  “I can’t imagine a single woman I’d prefer spending time with.”

  “What about Angel?” I whispered as my stomach twisted into a thousand knots.

  “Angel?” His voice rose at least an octave as he repeated her name.

  “She’s beautiful. Normal. And you two get along well enough.”

  He stared at the ceiling for a moment. “Angel’s sweet, and she’s quickly become one o’ my best friends, but she ain’t you, darlin’.”

  After a few moments of silence that stretched out, I reached for the remote on my bedside table and flicked on the TV. I surfed the channels until I found an old romantic comedy.

  “I’d understand if it happened,” I said after the movie failed to distract me long enough to shake the thought from my mind. “I mean, it’d hurt and if I’m honest, I’d be devastated, but I’d understand too.”

  “Understand what?”

  “If you found someone else.”

  He wrapped me tighter in his hold. “There ain’t no one else for me. Not Angel. Not Cass. As long as I have you, that’s all I want.”

  “Even with all my issues.”

  “They ain’t scared me off yet.”

  “Beau?”

  “Yeah, darlin’?”

  I swallowed down the lump in my t
hroat. What I was going to say was going to hurt, but I needed to say it anyway. “I love you.”

  I could feel his smile against my hair. “I—”

  Twisting so I could meet his gaze, I shook my head to cut him off. “Please don’t say it back. I know you want to, and that’s all I need.”

  He tightened his hold on me for a second and hummed in agreement.

  We watched to the end of the movie and then found our way out to the living room for dinner. It was becoming normal to eat with my family again. Such a small thing, and yet it meant everything to them, and to me.

  THE FOLLOWING MORNING, Angel came around as she had been, but instead of leaving a change of clothes for Beau, she tossed him out. With a smile on his lips, he dragged me to the door with him.

  “You’re gonna have a great day today,” he said, capturing a small clump of my hair between his fingers.

  “I know. I’ve missed her, I just wish I didn’t have to say goodbye to you to spend time with her.”

  “We can spend time as a threesome tomorrow if ya like?”

  I grinned and indicated I would.

  “But ya need more friends than just me.”

  It was a position so far from Xavier’s that it was refreshing. Proof of the reasons it was safe to give my heart to Beau. At least until his visa expired. That deadline was even more reason to reconnect with Angel.

  I stepped into Beau’s arms and kissed him goodbye—making sure it was a kiss he’d remember throughout the day. After closing and locking the door behind him, I spun and almost ran straight into Angel.

  “You two are hot together,” she said.

  Heat flamed my cheeks that she’d witnessed the kiss.

  “Of course, even when we were in Georgia, I knew you would be. At least if you’d both pulled your heads out of your arses. The tension between you was too thick to be meaningless, you know?”

  I followed her as she kept talking about the things she’d noticed while overseas. She made her way to the couch and threw herself down onto it.

  “Are you finished?” I asked with a small laugh. The laughter was part nerves and part relief that Angel wasn’t being anything other than Angel.

  She reached out for me. When I put my hand in hers, she dragged me down beside her and wrapped herself around me. Even though it made my heart race, I turned sideways on the couch and let our legs entwine. I flicked the TV on for background noise so the atmosphere between us wasn’t as stifling.

  “How are you?” she asked.

  I considered the question for a long while. “Terrified.”

  “Because?”

  “Because I don’t know how to talk to you like we used to. Because Beau’s been so damned good for me, and he’s only got a few months left on his visa and then he’ll have to go home.”

  She wrung her hands a few times. “You know there is one solution to the whole visa thing?”

  “What’s that?”

  “Maybe I should marry Beau.”

  The way she said it made the jealousy I’d felt toward the two of them flare in my chest. Why would that be her suggestion? “What?”

  She took my hands in hers. “I’ve got my girl back, and that’s because of him.”

  “I don’t know that I’m back. I don’t know if I’ll ever be back.”

  “I know, Pheebs, but you know what I mean. You’ve come leaps and bounds in such a short amount of time. It was barely two months ago that I couldn’t even get through your front door, and now look. I’m back in your arms again.” She waggled her eyebrows.

  A chill raced through me, but the fact that her casual teasing didn’t send me into a total panic spiral was actually a testament to her words. “Okay, I’ll concede that point. But what the heck has that got to do with you marrying my man?”

  “Oh God, it sounds good hearing you say those words. Say them again.”

  She always had loved to hear me say I was wrong. “I’ll concede—”

  “No, the last part.”

  My brows dipped as confusion ran rampant. “My man?”

  “Yeah.” She grinned. “Those ones.”

  “Okay, so you at least acknowledge my claim—”

  She laughed.

  “—but that doesn’t explain why you want to mar—” I cut off, unable to finish the sentence.

  “Sweetie, Beau knows you’re not going to be ready for that, and he’s not going to push you—no matter the personal cost. No one expects you to want that after what happened. I mean, you can’t even say the word.”

  “Okay. But why does that mean you need to steal him away from me?”

  She brushed my hair off my face. “I don’t want to steal him away.” Her gaze dropped temporarily, but not quick enough for me to miss the desire burning there. She wanted him too, but wasn’t willing to admit it. At least not to me. “I just don’t want him to have to go home. It’s not like he has a long time left on his visa.”

  Her words struck my stomach like a bullet. Fuck. “I—I can’t lose him.” Tears pricked my eyes as my breath shortened.

  “I know, girlie, that’s why I’m offering my services.” She grinned. “Bride-to-be at the ready, right here. If he’s married, even to me, he can apply for a spousal visa.”

  Alarm bells were ringing in my head. If he married Angel, would that make it easier for the two of them to leave me behind? “I don’t want him to be with anyone else.”

  She rolled her eyes. “He won’t be with me. It’ll all be on paper.”

  “Even if I was willing to agree to it”—I held up my fingers to stop her from interrupting—“which I’m not, I can’t see Beau agreeing to it.”

  “Well, he hasn’t yet. But I think he would if you were willing.”

  “So you’ve spoken to him about it?”

  “Not at length, but we’ve touched on it.”

  “And?”

  “And like you said, he hasn’t wanted to do it. ‘I ain’t gonna marry ya just to stay in the country. That’d be wrong, ’sides there’s only one gal I wanna marry.’” Her mockery of Beau’s accent was actually fairly accurate.

  “You’ve been hanging around him far too much,” I joked, even though there was an undercurrent of genuine concern. Maybe it was my imagination—as I pictured how much easier things would be between the two of them without all of my issues—but it seemed they each held a certain affection for the other.

  She jolted away from me with a frown. “Why do you say that?”

  “Because you’ve got his accent down pretty well.”

  “Oh. Oh, of course. Well, I guess if you live with someone, you’re bound to take on some of their habits.”

  I put my hands in my lap and wrung them together. “I guess.”

  “No guessing. We’ve become friends, but that’s because of you. It . . . was a difficult time when you were missing, and I guess that forged things faster than they might’ve happened otherwise.”

  Her words were off somehow. I was 90 percent sure something was going on, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Both Beau and Angel denied any attraction, but my instincts screamed at me that it was more.

  Then again, I could hardly trust my instincts anymore. They hadn’t thought Xavier was a threat. Still, I found myself asking, “Did something happen between you when I was . . . gone?”

  “What? Why would you ask that?” The odd expression on her face made my heart stop.

  “It did, didn’t it?” I untangled myself from her as my breath shortened. I’d almost convinced myself that I was reading more into it than there really was. Angel’s expression, however . . . it told me I’d been right all along.

  “There was one thing, but it was nothing. Really, the only reason I’m saying anything at all is because I want it to be like it used to be between you and me. No lies. Everything on the table.”

  “Oh God,” I murmured as my heart seized. What could have happened? A thousand scenarios played behind my eyes.

  “He kissed me.” Her voice was barely
a whisper as she stared at her hands.

  Fuck!

  “But only because he thought I was you.”

  “How the fuck could he have thought you were me?” I snapped. I could feel the ire rising in my chest and had to grip the sofa with both hands to stop from unleashing my tongue on her. “I was fucking locked underground, for fuck’s sake!”

  “Will you—”

  Mum came out from her study. “Are you girls all right?”

  “Peachy, Mrs R.,” Angel said with a forced smile.

  “Pheebs?”

  “We’re great,” I seethed through clenched teeth. I needed to hear Angel’s answer, and then I needed to kill Beau. How could he have done that? And how could he not have told me?

  “If you’re sure?” Mum lingered for a moment more even after I nodded.

  As soon as Mum had left, I spun to face the blonde Benedict Arnold. “You better tell me what the fuck is happening, Angel, ’cause I’m about two seconds away from losing my shit.”

  “I shouldn’t have said anything, but I don’t want to lie to you. Ever. You know that.”

  It wasn’t nearly enough, but I could see she hadn’t stopped, just paused to gather her thoughts.

  “It wasn’t easy when you were taken. On anyone. I know you suffered more than anyone, and I’m not trying to diminish that at all, but it fucking hurt not knowing where you were. Or whether you were even alive. It was worse for Beau because everyone blamed him. The media vilified him.”

  It wasn’t news to me, I’d seen some of the headlines when I’d crept online to look him up when I couldn’t face seeing him. It still hurt for her to say it though.

  “At one point, his hope . . . slipped. He found the bottom of a bottle. Not just once. When I couldn’t get him on the phone, I drove down to Georgia to find out what was going on. He was practically paralytic and living in his own filth when I found him.”

  I pictured the scene she painted. It was easy enough—I’d walked into the early stages of one of his binges after Abby’s death.

  “There were six empty whisky bottles near him when I enticed him to get up. I guess he heard the Aussie in my voice and made an assumption. It happened so fast, and it was over before it started.” She stared into the distance, unseeing, as her fingertips brushed over her lips.