Phase (Phoebe Reede: The Untold Story #1)

by Michelle Irwin

  An instant later, he was gone. The absence of his body was a noticeable void behind me. His next breath carried a sound that proved how close he’d come to releasing inside of me. Using my jellied legs despite not having any trust in them, I moved to the bed and spun around to sit on the edge.

  Beau stood just inches from where I’d been before; his eyes screwed tight and a towel clutched over his crotch.

  He opened his eyes and caught me staring at him with a smirk on my lips. “What’ve ya done to me, darlin’?”

  I fell back on the bed in laughter.

  ONCE WE were dressed, we headed down to the bonfire, held on the shore of the lake. When we arrived, everyone was already set up. There were three chairs and three long logs set up around a firepit. Beau helped me to a place on one of the logs before moving across to take a seat in the middle chair. He’d warned me of the seating arrangement, and the reason for it. Instead of being upset at having to sit by myself, I was looking forward to it. As he’d told me about the evening—before we’d become waylaid by our desire—he’d reminded me of his promise to show me he could sing one day.

  For a while, there was general conversation while Mitch and his brother, Joe, arranged dinner. It was a similar fare to what Beau and I had shared the night before.

  After dinner, they served s’mores. When Mitch slipped one of the constructed desserts into my hand, I found Beau watching me with a lustful expression. No doubt the previous night’s adventures were playing in his mind just like mine.

  A blush crept up my cheeks as he licked the edge of the s’more in his hand. I clenched my thighs together as need flooded through me.

  I was barely recovering from the s’mores when a guitar was dragged out. Mitch handed it straight to Beau.

  “Now, usually Joe and me would go first, but Beau’s in town for jus’ a couple o’ nights.”

  There were clearly a few regulars in the crowd because as soon as his name was mentioned, there was a cheer among a few of the women. An unfamiliar emotion burned in my stomach. It took me a moment to recognise it. Jealousy.

  “And we hear he’s hankerin’ to turn in early.”

  My blush grew.

  “So he’s gonna take the first set and then hand ya over to us for afterwards.”

  Because the setting was so close, so intimate, Beau didn’t need a mic to amplify his voice. He strummed the guitar and closed his eyes. The song was vaguely familiar, and when he started to sing, I knew why. It was the song that had played the first time we’d made love. Hearing it in his voice—which was far better than I’d expected the first time he’d teased me for not being able to sing—brought back memories of that night, and every moment since.

  I was transfixed. Seeing him lost in the song, lost in the words, was like watching him make love. The way his fingers played along the neck of the guitar with such grace and dexterity reminded me of the way they danced over my skin. I shifted in my seat as I squeezed my thighs together.

  My lips parted as I stared at him through the flickering flame. When he hit the chorus and starting crooning about roller coasters and things ending too soon, he opened his eyes and met my gaze and offered me one of his slow, steady smiles.

  Once the song finished, he moved to another. One about a girl being all in his head. Whenever his eyes were open, he was staring at me.

  I had to admit his voice was pretty damn good. He even made country music worth listening to.

  Without pausing, he moved to a third song. His fingers hesitated over the cords a little, stumbling more than he had on the other two songs. When he started singing, I almost thought he was making the lyrics up on the spot—they related to our situation so perfectly.

  The song was slow, steady, asking for one more day.

  Just one more day.

  What I wouldn’t have given for it too. I thought about how much of my trip I’d spent away from Beau’s side, and wondered what it might have been like if we’d had that time together. Would we have had the same adventure if we hadn’t gotten to know each other with our flirtatious phone calls and messages first?

  He stumbled over a couple more cords, obviously not as practised with the song as with the others, but he played through it. He didn’t once meet my eye as he sang the final song, instead keeping his eyes screwed shut the entire time. His whole performance was far less polished the rest of his set.

  As he neared the end of the song, his voice broke and his breath hitched. When he finished the song, he practically threw the guitar to Joe and brought his hand to his eyes. He whispered something to Joe and then stepped away.

  I jumped up to follow him into the darkness of the trees while Joe announced that they’d be continuing with some more traditional camp songs.

  Beau’s long stride carried him away faster than I could walk so I had to jog to cover the distance between us.

  “Beau?” I questioned, touching his shoulder when I reached him.

  He spun and grabbed hold of my hips, pressing his lips to mine in an almost punishing kiss. He backed us up until my back struck a tree, but even then his tongue and lips continued to move against mine.

  As he gathered control of himself again, he caressed my cheeks with his palms, rested his forehead against mine, and released a staggered breath. “Sorry, darlin’.”

  I wrapped my hands around his head in return, laying my palms behind his ears so he couldn’t pull away from me. “There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

  “I just . . . I didn’t ’spect th’ song to stir up so much . . .” He sighed and squeezed his eyes shut again—blocking me from the heartbreak I saw within. “It’s an emotional song for me. I thought I’d make it through. I wanted to sing it for ya.”

  “It . . . it was beautiful.”

  “It was Mabel’s favorite song. After Ern passed, I mean. The last time I sang it was at her funeral.”

  “It was perfect.”

  “D’ya wanna go back to the bonfire? I think I got myself together ’nough.”

  I shook my head. “I kinda think I just wanna spend my last few hours alone with you, if that’s okay.”

  His lips curled up into a smile, but the happiness didn’t reach his eyes.

  We headed back to his house and found our way to the sunlounger to lie in each other’s arms.

  My head spun, and my heart pounded as his voice and the meaning behind the three songs he’d sang all ran through me on repeat. How would I be able to leave in the morning? How could I look into his eyes, meet the heartbreak that I saw in them before, and still walk away?

  And I would have to be the one who walked away. If I asked, I didn’t doubt Beau would let me stay for as long as I wanted.

  “How’d you get so good at singing and playing the guitar?” I asked to try to break the heaviness that had settled over us. It was like every heartbeat was another second on the clock racing us toward the end.

  “Before Mabel took me in, the only thang I had to my name was a beat-up guitar. I dunno how I even got started, I just did.”

  “Did you ever think about doing it professionally?”

  “Heh, I ain’t that good. ’Sides, I can’t read sheet music. I just see the music. In here, ya know?” He tapped his head.

  “I’m glad I got to hear you play before I left. My talents all lie on the track, not in my vocal cords.”

  “Don’t I know it,” he teased, drawing me closer as he said the words. “Does that mean I’m gonna convert you to some decent music then?”

  “Hey, my music rocks.” I elbowed his ribs.

  He held me tight as we both fell into silence.

  “So, I was thinkin’,” Beau said after a while, “maybe we could keep this thang goin’ just a little longer.”

  I hummed in question.

  “Well, I thought maybe I could drive ya up to New York.”

  I twisted around to look at him. The lyrics he’d sung around the bonfire were at the front of my mind. God, how was I going to say goodbye if he took me right t
o the airport? We couldn’t even leave to go to a bonfire without pawing each other first. “Oh, no, Beau, I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

  “Ya didn’t ask. I offered.”

  Spinning fully so that I was facing him, I grabbed his hands. “You can’t; it’s too far.”

  Dragging his hands from mine, he cupped my face in his palms. “I want to, darlin’. You’ve taken hold of every part of me and I’ve given it willingly. Give me this little bit back, please? Let me stay with ya, as long as possible. I ain’t ready to say goodbye.”

  Despite wanting to spend every second I could with him, saying goodbye at the airport was too serious. A relationship-level step I wasn’t sure I was ready for. Plus, it meant dragging him away from Abby sooner than he had to leave. “I don’t—”

  Beau silenced me with a look. “At least think about it before ya say no. Please?”

  “I guess I can give you that much,” I said, leaning into his palm.

  I relaxed back against him, but the calm didn’t last for long. His request to drive me to New York played in my mind. The day had been far too heavy already.

  Abby. The lake. The realisation that I’d found someone who understood exactly what I’d been searching for since leaving home. The emotion he’d shown when he was singing about wanting me to stay. Everything had been perfect.

  At least on the surface.

  Underneath the veneer was a time bomb ticking away and getting ready to blow up in both our faces.

  Maybe I needed to do a little controlled detonation to avoid outright disaster.

  It would be like backing off and letting an aggressive driver have the corner. Giving them the place, but keeping the car intact. The safer bet. It would help us both to avoid a collision with a cement wall.

  “It’s getting a little chilly, I think I need to go inside,” I said, tugging away from his hold.

  His brow dipped for a moment, and it looked like he was going to say something more, but he stopped himself. I gave him a watery smile and pulled open the door.

  “Phoebe,” Beau called out before I could move inside.

  God, why did it sound so damn nice when he said my name in that southern drawl? “Yeah?”

  “Will ya tell me why you don’t want me to take ya?”

  I sighed. “I do want you to take me.” I wanted it far more than I really should, and that was exactly the reason I didn’t want him to. “I just think it might be better if we keep what we had here. Private.”

  “So it’s the paps that worry ya?”

  “Huh?”

  “Are they the reason ya don’t want me to take ya to the airport? ’Cause if it’ll make ya more comfortable, I can just drop ya off and go.”

  “It’s not that. I mean, sure I don’t want you to face a scandal when I’m gone, but it’s not that.”

  “If it’s ’bout what I said yesterday when ya told me how old ya are, forget it. I shouldn’t have said it. I don’t care what anyone else thinks. Besides, my rep’s so squeaky clean, I’m prob’ly due for a scandal or two.”

  “Really, it’s not that.”

  “Somethin’s buggin’ ya.”

  How could he read me so damned well? Better than my own parents. Possibly better even than Angel. “No, I’m just thinking about it. Like I said I would.”

  “Was it the songs?”

  I squeezed my eyes shut and shook my head. “No. Really. It’s nothing. I just need to relax for a bit. Tomorrow’s going to be a big day.”

  “It’d be an easier one if ya had someone to share it with.”

  I leaned against the door and assessed him, unable to stop my lips from twisting upward at his words—and his persistence.

  “I do love that smile. It ain’t quite as wide as I like it, but it’ll do for now.”

  My stomach clenched at the L word.

  It was undeniably true.

  And mutual.

  And still doomed from the beginning.

  My lips fell back out of their smile.

  As soon as they did, Beau was in front of me, wrapping his arms around my neck. “Whatever it is, it’s okay. I won’t let anythin’ hurt ya.”

  Clinging to his shoulders, I didn’t tell him the one thing I knew to be true. He may not let anything hurt me, but because of him, my heart would be shattered and raw by the time I had to go home. Every second I spent at his side, I fell deeper in love with him. Further into the rabbit hole that was impossible to escape from.

  I needed to put a stop to it before it could hurt either of us more.

  There was no way I could let him take me to New York, and there was only one way I knew of to stop him.

  GIVING UP ALL thoughts of sleep, I climbed from the bed and moved to stand beside the window. The sun, just cresting the horizon, filled the room with pinks and purples, throwing a romantic light over the space that was fucking unfair given what was going to happen soon.

  Leaning my shoulder against the windowpane, I tried to find what comfort I could from the rising sun, but it only brought the pain of knowing what I had to do. I twisted back around to look at my own personal sun, the man who’d brought warmth and life into the last few days of my trip. Who’d introduced me to his sister, despite the obvious emotional toll it had taken on him to share that part of himself. Who’d brought me to a place that was heaven on earth and let me experience true freedom.

  “Oh, Beau,” I murmured, needing to fill the silence in the room. “Why did you have to be so perfect?”

  Tears pricked my eyes. They’d been a near-constant threat for the better part of the night. Even through my tears, I smiled as I watched him sleep.

  My eyes trailed his face, drinking in all the features and locking them away in my memory. His sandy hair was messy from falling into bed while it was still wet. The stubble on his chin was steadily progressing toward the beginnings of a beard after our three days together. A small, dreamy smile played on his lips, making me wonder what his dreams might contain.

  “Why did the last few days have to be so wonderful?” I whispered.

  My lip quivered as the pressure of what came next built in my chest. My gaze sank lower, over his broad shoulders and sculpted chest, down over the smattering of dark blond hair on his pecs and stomach, leading to a happy trail that headed under the white sheet tangled around his waist.

  Beneath that, the bedding wrapped through his legs in a pattern indicating he’d been tossing and turning for most of the night. I couldn’t blame him. I hadn’t slept much myself. In just a few minutes, the curtain would fall on everything we’d shared. He didn’t know that yet but had definitely sensed me pulling away ever since his offer to drive me all the way to New York. Maybe he understood what I’d started planning before we’d even reached his bedroom the night before. There was no way I could stay. It wasn’t fair to him, nor was it fair to me.

  Even when we’d made love, for what would be the last time, I’d been building the walls around my heart that would allow me to leave him. With his sweet talk and gentle touches, Beau had made them almost impossible to construct.

  The truth was, I might have decided to leave him sooner rather than later, but that didn’t make it any easier. How was I supposed to walk away from the one thing that had made my entire trip worth taking?

  But with everything that came next, how could I not? What could we do? He had a life in the States, and I had one in Australia. As much as I’d loved my time with him, as much as I would have loved to stay, there was a longing in my chest I couldn’t ignore. A need to be home, to see my family. To hold my baby sister in my arms again. To listen to Brock and Beth bicker like they always did. To help Parker with a damned computer game. To hold tight to Mum and let her make the pain better like she always could. She’d have quite the job of that when I saw her again because I’d never before felt an agony so keen.

  My vision hazed over as my eyes flooded with tears. I’d gone overseas in search of who I really was, and I’d found her in Beau’s arms. Despite that,
I was still the girl with the expectations and responsibilities. I’d been away for long enough that I’d actually started to miss her.

  Beau moaned and thrust his hips as he slept before turning again. A reminder of everything he’d given to me. Nothing more than I’d given in return, and yet somehow so much more because I’d never had the specific notion of saving myself for marriage. All I’d wanted was for it to be something special with someone I loved, and that’s what I had.

  Beau had lived by the ideal of waiting for marriage, and yet I’d taken everything he’d offered knowing that not only were we only a temporary thing but that he didn’t even know me. Sure he had my name, and knew what I did for a living, and had his list of observations, but he didn’t know me.

  Not really.

  Not the me who was up at four in the morning to hit the treadmill or elliptical trainer to keep up my cardio strength. The me who was at the track an hour earlier than needed so I could help the mechanics do the final safety checks on the car. The me who had dressed up in fancy outfits and race suits for promotional calendars so often that being in front of the camera didn’t faze me anymore. It was all just modelling work to build my portfolio and consumer appeal.

  Those were all things that made up my real life. What I would be walking back into when I returned home. It was what I’d been running from, but I was ready to walk back into it all. I was just selfish and wanted Beau too. But not if all I could have was screen time and phone calls.

  Trying to turn my mind away from the impossible, I started to run scenarios through my head of what might happen next, like I would if I was on the track.

  Sometime soon, he’d stir and beckon me to him. I’d go willingly because I was incapable of refusing anything he asked of me. He’d wrap me in his arms and whisper his perfect words to me, and offer to take me to his house again. It would end in another long road trip with him where I’d tear deeper into my heart and let him burrow in.

  After that, I’d have to look in his eyes and remind him we were out of time. That I had to race up to New York to catch my flight. He’d ask me to stay again. Beg me for my contact information again. I’d relent and then I’d face the torture of being in contact with him knowing that we could never be together with our lives as full as they were with our careers and families.