“I’m sorry,” I whispered, nuzzling my cheek against his back. “Whatever he did, I know you didn’t deserve it. You’re good, Lea. You’re a beautiful person.”
I heard his breath catch, and then he tentatively wrapped his fingers around my wrists. “Beau,” he said quietly. Just the way he said my name had me tightening my hold and stepping closer. Lea groaned and said, “Why do you have to be so damn sweet all the time? You’re making it really hard for me to push you away.”
My heart beat faster, and I felt like I’d been rewarded for my boldness. Rewarded with honesty that, for whatever reason, Lea was keeping wrapped up tight.
Because he’d been hurt.
I wanted—so, so badly—to show him that he didn’t need to be afraid. That I would never hurt him, not ever, for any reason.
Lea’s thumbs brushed back and forth across my skin, sending delightful tingles of awareness dancing up my arms. But then he stopped, sighed, and pulled my arms from around him. He stepped away and turned toward me. My heart sank. He looked resigned to what he’d said earlier, and that crushed me.
He reached out his hand and cupped my cheek, stroking his thumb along my cheekbone as his expression became sad, almost regretful. “You will find someone as lovely as yourself one day, Beau. I have no doubt.” Then he let his hand fall and stepped away, grabbing the clothes he’d pulled out and giving me one last look before leaving the room.
“Wait,” I whispered, after the door was shut.
No.
Wait.
I didn’t want anyone else.
I wanted to go after him, but Lea didn’t want that. He didn’t wantme, and I had to respect that. I had been thoroughly rejected.
Why had I thought I’d ever be good enough for someone like Lea? I was just me, and he was…so much more.
I looked around the room, at the nightstand riddled with seashells he must’ve picked up on the beach, at the mismatched pillows, at the neat row of shoes underneath his bed.
I didn’t want to sleep in his bed without him. It felt wrong.
After a shower where I sat on the floor and cried, I changed into clean boxers and slid beneath the covers.
Ten minutes passed before I got up to open one of the windows because I couldn’t stand the quiet and the hum of the air conditioner wasn’t enough to silence my morose thoughts that bounced around in an endless echo of despair.
I fell asleep clutching Lea’s pillow, wishing it was him.
18
BEAU
Lea’s hair was tickling my nose when I woke up. I had my entire body wrapped around his sleeping form, and for a moment, I stopped breathing.
He was holding both my hands against his chest, his fingers threaded through mine, and my heart pounded madly against my rib cage.
Was I dreaming? I had to be dreaming, because when I shifted my legs, I could feel that Lea’s were bare. And his chest was bare. Was he naked?
I didn’t want to move, was hardly breathing, too afraid I’d shatter this beautiful dream. I lay there for a long time, trying to be as still as possible as I catalogued every aspect of what this felt like—having Lea in my arms again when I thought I never would.
He was so warm and soft everywhere, and as I subtly pressed my nose against the back of his head and inhaled, that sweet, floral scent clouded my senses and had me closing my eyes in pleasure.
I loved the way he smelled, like roses and spun sugar. It was comforting and relaxing, and as his deep, even breaths fannedacross our joined hands, I wished time would stop and I could stay in this moment forever.
But time didn’t stop, and the sunlight streaming through the open window started getting brighter. Birds chirped loudly, seagulls called out to each other, and the sounds of quiet conversation drifted up to us.
Lea stirred with a small moan, his fingers flexing around mine.
“Beau?” he rasped sleepily.
Was this it? Would he pull away now, admit he’d only come in here because the couch wasn’t comfortable enough? Had that been what happened? Had I gravitated toward him in sleep, and he’d unknowingly let me?