But Beau wasn’t them. I’d gotten so used to the way I lived that I never thought twice about it. There was nothing wrong with enjoying sex.
Except…I hadn’t always been this way, had I? This was what I’d become in my determination to never let anyone get close to me again. Not after Lyle.
That poor excuse for a man had killed off some vital part of me that I’d never get back.
I missed that part. I missed being able to hand my trust and love away like party favors and not have it hurt me.
I missed never worrying about rejection and betrayal and wondering when the next blow was coming.
I missed the person I used to be and I did everything to ignore the person I’d become.
It was actually pathetic, now that I let myself think about it.
By the time I got home, I was a twisted, tangled up mess. I hesitated outside of Beau’s door—always shut, like he needed to hide away from the world. Needed that extra barrier.
From me.
It was so obviouswhynow.
God, this guilt was going to eat me alive.
Taking a deep breath, I knocked softly. I couldn’t hear anything from inside the room, and when I knocked again and he didn’t answer, I thought maybe he wasn’t here. I knew he worked from home, but maybe he’d gone out on a break?
“Damn,” I muttered.
Just as I turned to leave, the door swung open.
Beau jumped when he saw me, eyes blowing wide. He was wearing big headphones—and practically nothing else. I realized he probably hadn’t heard me knocking with those headphones on, because he looked alarmed to find me standing here.
My eyes swept down his lean frame, all that lightly tanned skin crowded with a sea of freckles.
His chest was bare of hair, his nipples a dark, dusky brown, and he had a thin line of dark brown hair that started below his navel and disappeared into the waistband of his plain blue boxers. There was a long scar underneath his ribs on his left side, a thin, silvery line that broke through the freckles and stretched to his hip.
And right now, he was flushed from the top of his head down to his stomach.
I clenched my hand into a fist.
“Fuck,” I whispered, trying to swallow around my suddenly dry throat. I raised my eyes to his, but he had a deeply panicked look on his face and was staring at my chest. “Shit. Wow, I amsosorry, I just wanted to—uh, talk to you,” I said, and when the hell had I ever struggled to get my words out?
Beau quickly lowered his headphones down to his neck, his gaze flitting briefly to mine, then away again. “C-can I put some clothes on?” he asked quietly. His hands were wrapped tight around the ears of his headphones.
I turned to face down the hallway, like I should have done instead of staring, and said, “Yeah, yep, do that. I’ll be in the living room. Sorry.” I didn’t wait for a response, just walked down the hall to the couch, sitting down heavily. Rested my elbows on my knees and dropped my head into my hands.
He probably thought I would be at work until eight, like I’d told him in the note I’d left on the fridge this morning, which was why he’d come out of his room in just his boxers.
Any time I had to go out now—to work or the store or just anywhere—I’d been leaving him little notes on the fridge. I wasn’t sure why I felt the need to constantly inform him of my whereabouts, but I thought that maybe he’d like knowing how long he would get the place to himself. Something told me Beau was only truly comfortable when he was alone, and Iwanted him to feel like he didn’t have to stay cooped up in his room all the time.
Part of me also liked that therewassomeone I could tell about what I was doing or where I was going. Someone helping me fill the empty, quiet space I’d been living in for years. Shea came and went, so he was never a constant presence.
I was feeling all kinds of things ever since Shea had dropped him here like a delicate little bomb, blowing up my life with his shy glances and pink cheeks. He was like something that needed to be protected and preserved, and it was surprising how much I wanted to be the one to do those things.
How much I liked knowing he was here, right next to me, even if he was behind that closed door.
So the truth was, I didn’t want him to leave. Having Beau here made me feel a little less lonely.
He made my apartment worth coming back to, and that…
I didn’t want to let go of that.