by Devney Perry
I searched his eyes for any hint of exaggeration but they were pure and honest. His faith in me was humbling. “You’re giving me too much credit.”
“You’re not giving yourself enough.”
“Okay. I’m done pouting now,” I whispered.
He chuckled and moved his hands to my face, leaning in to brush his soft, full, pink lips against my forehead.
Oh, boy. I was so smitten with this man.
“How long do you get to stay?” I hoped the change of topic would help me resist the urge to lean into Beau’s space and test those lips against my own.
“Just until tomorrow. Things are a wreck at work so I need to get back but I didn’t want you to wait a whole week for supplies.”
“I’m glad to have you back. I’ll help you unload the truck.”
He stared at me for a long moment, still sharing my space. “We’re good?”
I nodded. “We’re good.”
He squeezed my arms one last time before turning to leave. He’d been back for no more than an hour and I felt like a new woman. He had done the right thing, giving me that figurative kick in the ass. No one had ever done that for me before.
My parents would cater to my bad moods, fussing and fawning over me until I snapped myself out of the funk. Even Felicity had tended to indulge my sad days when we’d been roommates. She’d bring me chocolate and paint my nails until I was ready to get out of bed and go to class or work.
Beau did have a good read on me. Maybe better than I had on myself.
“Beau?” I called from the counter before he could step outside. “Thanks. Most people tend to avoid me when I get blue.”
“You’re welcome. Does it happen a lot?”
“Not so much anymore.” I took a deep breath, summoning the strength to tell him something that I had only confessed to a few people. “I went through a tough time after Janessa committed suicide. She was my best friend in high school.”
That got his attention. “What?”
“She died when we were sixteen.”
“Shit. I’m sorry.” He came back inside and stood beside me, his hip brushing my knee.
“Me too.” I gave him a sad smile. “My parents and brothers didn’t really know how to deal with me back then. I was sad and angry most of the time, lashing out at them and my teachers when I wasn’t curled up in bed crying. They finally took me to a therapist so I had someone impartial to talk to.”
My therapist had helped me through the darkest time in my young life. She’d given me permission to grieve and feel sad, but she’d also taught me that life goes on and I had to put a time limit on wallowing.
“It wasn’t until after college that I realized there wasn’t anything I could have done for Janessa. But the sad times, they still happen. When they do, I revert back to some of those old habits. I let the sad run its course, then put it in the past.”
“Fuck me.” He rubbed a hand over his beard. “I didn’t know. I shouldn’t have—”
“No, trust me. You did the right thing.”
“Really? Then why do I feel like such a prick right now?”
I smiled. “Don’t feel bad. Wallowing wasn’t helping me. I’ve been using a coping mechanism that was appropriate for a sixteen-year-old girl, not a thirty-four-year-old woman. You were right. I was moping around and feeling sorry for myself. It was time to get up. Please don’t feel bad. I’m just telling you all this because . . . well, I felt safe telling you.”
He threw an arm around my shoulders. “You can tell me anything.”
Of that, I had no doubt.
“You brought me a TV too?” I screamed in delight when I saw the small box in the back seat of Beau’s truck.
“Don’t get too excited,” he said. “It’s pretty fucking old. I picked it up at the pawn shop and the clerk said the built-in DVD player might not work.”
“I appreciate it anyway.”
There were few men as thoughtful as Beau. He made me realize the men I had chosen to date were nothing but a group of pompous jerks and narcissists. Men more interested in their bank account balance and social status than me. Those men liked me because I was arm candy. Beau actually listened when we were talking. He cared what I had to say.
I’d bet millions that Beau was a world-class boyfriend. He didn’t give a lick about his hairstyle or fashion sense. His Hanes T-shirts and ten-dollar haircuts suited him just fine. The ladies of Prescott were probably falling all over themselves for his attention.
I was lucky to have it, even for a brief time, and when I got back to Seattle, I was upping my standards.
“What’s in here?” I asked, lifting a huge black backpack off the truck’s floor and slugging it over my shoulder. He’d already brought me everything from my wish list, except the couch.
“It’s from Felicity. There’s a letter from her in the glove box too.”
My smile grew to kilowatt levels as I scrambled to the front of the truck, desperate for any connection to my friend. Ripping open the envelope, I took in her beautiful, swirly handwriting. It was the same script I used to see on our shared bathroom mirror when she’d leave me little messages before tests or job interviews.
Miss you.
You’re probably going crazy so I’ve thought of a solution.
Write me a story.
xoxo
I smiled, tucked the note in my pocket and hustled inside, excited to see what was in my backpack. When I pulled out a sleek gray laptop, I laughed at her trickery.
Felicity loved romance novels and had begged me more times than I could count to write one of my own. I had always brushed it off, being too busy with the newspaper and advancing my career to even consider moonlighting in fiction. But now that I had nothing but time, I had no excuse not to try something I had secretly always wanted to do.
My friend knew me all too well.
I went back to the bag and fished out a bag of my favorite dark chocolates, a manicure kit and some feminine products. I laughed again, grateful that she’d thought to refill my tampons so I wouldn’t have to add them to Beau’s grocery list, though I doubted he would have cared. He was the type of man who would bring his woman tampons without comment or complaint.
“Yes!” I cheered when I retrieved my last item.
Felicity had sent me a pair of jeans from my favorite designer. I hugged them to my chest and pressed my face into the soft denim. I’d missed jeans. My wardrobe of leggings, yoga pants, T-shirts, athletic zip-ups and hoodies was comfortable but slouchy. I rushed to the bathroom and quickly swapped out pants. The structured seams and thick material felt glorious against my skin.
“Good stuff?” Beau asked, bringing in a cooler as I emerged in my new attire. His eyes lingered on my legs for a brief moment before he got to work stocking up the fridge.
“Yeah,” I said. “I miss my Felicity though. Is she doing okay?”
I hadn’t seen her in a month. April had come and gone and now it was May. I was in that weird limbo of time where it seemed like I’d been here forever and yet no time at all.
“She’s good. Keeping Silas on his toes.”
“I bet he likes it.”
Beau chuckled. “I know he does.”
I was grateful that my friend had found her happily ever after. Felicity was so hard on herself, taking the blame for things that were outside of her control. I was overjoyed that Silas had helped her see just how special she was. To see what I had always seen. Behind her prickly exterior was a heart of gold.
I put away my new belongings, sending good thoughts into the universe for my beautiful, caring and feisty friend before going back outside.
Beau and I spent the next hour unloading supplies and setting up my new entertainment unit, that being a box with the, luckily, working television on top. When Beau handed me a pile of movies, I scanned the titles and stared at him in disbelief. I had asked for chick flicks but what he’d brought were even better. Cheesy action films and unrated comedies. I didn’t believe in
soul mates but Beau was starting to make me rethink that position.
Since I couldn’t thank him with a kiss, I did the next best thing. I gave him the tightest hug I could muster with my scrawny arms. “Thank you, Goliath.”
He didn’t hesitate in wrapping me up, my cheek squishing even further into his rock-solid chest. “You’re welcome, Shortcake.”
I leaned back so I could look at his face. “Shortcake?”
“Seems only fair that you have a nickname too.”
I shook my head. “But I’m not short. And cake? I’m the farthest thing from sweet.”
One of his arms unwound from behind me so his hand could cup my jaw. With his thumb stroking my cheek and his fingers threaded into my hair, he whispered, “You’re sweet, and to me, you’ll always be short.”
My knees buckled. They actually buckled and he hadn’t even kissed me. Heaven help me if he ever did. I’d probably faint and miss all the good stuff.
“Easy,” he said, taking my weight and lifting me back up. “Are you okay?” His sexy, low voice made my knees wobble again.
“Uh-huh,” I breathed. When his brows furrowed, I cleared my throat and spoke with more confidence. “I’m okay.”
“Are you sure? Do you need to sit?”
I shook my head, not wanting his arms to go anywhere. “Just a little light-headed.”
The heat from his chest was radiating against my breasts and my heart started pumping double time. When Beau and I were close like this, my body’s reaction was completely out of my control. I wanted him with a wildness I’d never felt before.
The throbbing between my legs wasn’t just a dull twinge, it was a fierce and desperate ache. It took every ounce of willpower not to unwind my hands from his waist and move them to the button on his jeans.
I doubted he’d push me away but I didn’t want to put him in the uncomfortable position to make that choice. He had been clear. We are just friends. Repeat. We are just friends.
“Sabrina?” Beau’s concerned voice snapped me out of my sexual haze.
Needing some distance before I did something to embarrass myself, I pushed out of his hold and took a step back. “I’m better now. Maybe I’m just hungry or need some air.”
He grinned. “That happens when you spend four days living off nothing but granola bars.”
“Ha, ha,” I said dryly. “Do you, uh, want to go for a walk before dinner?”
Having spent the last four days inside, I was craving some sunshine and fresh air. That and I needed to cool off. That hug had turned me really hot, really fast. Too bad it was one-sided. Beau was still staring at me like I might faint.
“Okay,” he drawled. “If you think you can handle it.”
“I’m sure.”
He nodded and walked around me to the door, calling for Boone as he stepped outside.
I was relieved that my low-blood-sugar lie had worked and he hadn’t seemed to notice that my reaction had been purely sexual. I didn’t need another one of his reminders that we would always be platonic. My own affirmations were harsh enough.
Beau was way too good for me. He deserved a wholesome woman. The minute I’d started to date Anton, wholesome had gone out the window.
As I walked outside, I reminded myself again and again that Beau and I were from two different worlds, wincing with the familiar twist in my stomach. But by the time we stepped out of the trees and into the open meadow, my disappointment had been pushed to the back of my mind—not forgotten, but no longer center stage.
Beau and I wandered across the empty field, taking in the warm sunlight and slight breeze. Our pace was much slower than the last time we’d come out together. The green grasses, now thick and lush, had surged to new heights these last few weeks of spring and I had to bring my knees up high just to wade through it all.
I kept thinking about Beau’s words from earlier today. You can tell me anything. The only person I really confided in was Felicity, but Beau shared her confidence and strength. He wasn’t letting me shut him out. So by the midpoint of our walk, I had decided to take him up on that offer and tell him what I’d been considering recently.
“So, while I was resting these last few days, I did some thinking.”
“Resting?” He looked at me skeptically, like he expected whatever I had concocted during my four-day wallow session to be pure insanity.
“Resting,” I insisted. “Let’s move on, shall we?”
He smirked. “Continue.”
“I’ve been thinking about returning home and going to the FBI.”
His feet ground to a halt. “What?”
“It might be for the best. I’m in way over my head here and there’s only so much hiding out I can do. Eventually, I have to return to civilization.”
“You really hate it here that much?”
“No! Not at all.” Surprisingly, that was the truth.
Sometime in the last month, I had grown to like my little outpost home, especially when Beau was around. But he couldn’t stay with me forever and, at some point, I’d have to face the dangers waiting for me in Seattle.
The corners of his mouth curled up. “I’m glad to hear it. So why would you want to leave?”
“I don’t want to be a burden.” It was cathartic to say that out loud.
I had grown accustomed to relying on no one and standing on my own two feet. My successes had come from my hard work. My failures from my shortcomings. My independence was a huge part of my self-worth. Now that it was gone? I was struggling to find myself.
And I hated being at the mercy of another person.
My aversion to dependence was probably the reason why I’d never had a successful long-term relationship. When it was just me, I wouldn’t have to worry that someone else would let me down. Janessa had let me down when she’d killed herself, and besides Felicity, I hadn’t let someone else in that fully ever since. Except Beau.
He was sneaking past my weakened defenses. My reliance on him was pushing some of those personal limits I’d come to rely on to keep from getting hurt and maybe that was a sign I needed to leave.
“You’re not a burden, Sabrina.”
“I need you for everything. That is the definition of a burden.”
“No, the definition of a burden is a heavy load. Nothing about this feels heavy to me. I’ve told you before, I don’t mind. You know how much I love it up here. And spending time with you is fun. Well, when you shower.”
I smiled at his tease. “Eventually, you’re going to want to get back to your life.”
“Forget about me. What about you? What happens when you go to the FBI?”
I shrugged. “I’m not sure. Witness protection maybe?”
“Witness protection? You’d have to say good-bye to your friends and family. You wouldn’t even get to be you anymore. That’s the life you want?”
“Honestly? I’m not sure I have any other choice.”
My throat tightened at the thought of never seeing my family again. Never getting to hug my mom or standing on my tiptoes to kiss my dad’s cheek. And I’d have to say good-bye to Felicity. I wouldn’t get to be a part of her wedding or meet the babies she and Silas would someday create.
In my time at the outpost, I’d come to see things more clearly. Panic and stubbornness had disguised it earlier, but my choices were limited.
Eventually, I’d say good-bye to Beau and this mountain valley. Sabrina MacKenzie would be no more.
My life would end, whether the Federovs killed me or not.
“Just . . . chill out, little dude,” Beau declared. His easy tone was such a departure from the dark thoughts in my head it shocked me, and the words “chill” and “dude” sounded hilariously out of place coming from Beau’s serious face.
“ ‘Chill out, little dude’? A phrase I never would have expected you to say.”
“It’s Maisy,” he grumbled. “She says it to Coby all the time and I guess it rubbed off. Anyway. What I mean is, relax. You’ve only been here for a
month. Give it more time. In a few more months, the Federovs might be locked up for good and you can go back to being Sabrina MacKenzie, superhero reporter.”
I grinned and sighed. “Okay.”
He was right. It was too soon to know how this would all shake out.
We resumed our walk, silently strolling further into the meadow. My head started churning again, this time thinking about my career. Beau had called me a superhero reporter. Was that who I still was? Could I even be a reporter anymore?
Even if my boss had had to give away my job, I had no doubt that I would be able to find a new one. But did I even want that life anymore? My twenty-two-year-old self would be aghast that I was considering giving up a career I had worked so hard to attain.
I missed that young woman. I longed to be her again. She was a fledgling, idealistic journalist fresh out of college, excited at what her future had in store. She had such a bright outlook on life. She was untainted by the harsh realities of just how far a reporter could fall when tempted by that unattainable story.
Could I ever get back to where she was?
No.
Too many lines had been crossed. Too many of my principles had been compromised. Over the years, I’d lied to get information from sources. I’d manipulated confessions from witnesses who had wanted to remain quiet. But using sex and seduction to get the Federov story had been my final fall from grace.
That wasn’t the type of journalist I’d set out to become. I’d learned the hard way that undercover work like that didn’t sit well with my conscience.
No, my dreams of being a reporter were over.
My career had been my sole focus for so long, did I even know how to dream anymore?
“What are your dreams, Beau?”
He was so put-together, so confident. Not in a cocky way, just sure of himself and the path he was on. If he still had dreams to achieve, maybe I wouldn’t feel so far behind. I wouldn’t feel like I had just crossed the finish line only to learn the race I was supposed to be running had just begun and my competitors were already halfway around the track.