Beau pushed himself up and squeezed my hand, his eyes staring into mine with a soft, sated sheen. “You sure?”
It felt like I was sure about everything when it came to him. Well, everything except…
“Let me put it this way,” I said, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. “I don’t think I will ever get enough of you, Beau Hart, no matter how many times we do that.”
The smile that slowly stretched across his face made my stomach flutter. Those two dimples were like the loveliest markers of his joy. His eyes were lit with happiness, a soft glow that made my breath catch. His gaze trailed down to my lips, and then he kissed me softly.
Just once.
But once was enough to know there was no hope for me anymore.
“I feel the same way. You’re so beautiful, Lea,” he said, rubbing his nose against mine—just like I always did to him. I was having trouble breathing, having trouble thinking, and when he smiled down at me again, all I could do was stare.
I thought maybe he’d been plucked from the stars and sent down here just for me. I didn’t think I was deserving of such a gift from the heavens.
Of Beau.
I sighed, only wanting to rest my head on his shoulder and lay here for a while. Just be with him. Soak up his quiet strength and gentle presence.
“Beau,” I murmured. “Can I lay on you?”
A soft laugh puffed from his lips. “Yeah.” He slid off me—never letting go of my hand—and settled onto his back beside me, watching me. I pressed up against his side, threw my arm over his chest, my leg across his, and rested my head on his shoulder. Our joined hands were caught between my body and his.
I liked that. A whole lot.
My free hand wandered, my fingers brushing over the soft skin on his chest. “I’ve been wondering…” I started, trailing a finger down the silvery scar just below his rib cage. “What happened here?”
Beau tensed up, and I thought maybe I’d ruined the moment and broached a too-sensitive topic. But he surprised me when he cleared his throat and said quietly, “My mom drank a lot.”
My fingers paused over his sternum.
Oh, Beau.
I pressed a kiss into his skin and continued drawing soft shapes on his chest.
“Like, alot. Well, maybe not when I was younger, but by high school, she was never not drunk. Her doctor thought all the alcohol consumption accelerated her early-onset dementia, that maybe if she hadn’t been drinking at all, she might’ve…”
He sighed, and my heart skipped a beat when he tipped his head to rest it gently atop mine.
“Might’ve had more time, but who knows. She was mean when she drank. One night, she…”
He cleared his throat. “Hey, um, Shea doesn’t know about this, so could you…could we…”
“I won’t tell him,” I whispered. “Whatever you choose to tell me stays between us, Beau. All of it.”
“Okay,” he said, relief in his voice. “Okay. One night, she grabbed a knife and…she chased me with it.”
I must have looked utterly horrified, because he quickly said, “She didn’t hurt me with the knife, that’s not—she ended up dropping it while she ran, but I tripped and fell. I cut myself on a loose nail sticking out of the floorboard. But…”
How could someone so horrible create the purest, sweetest soul?
In that moment, I wished I’d known what he was going through back in Kansas so I could steal him away from all that misery and give him the life he deserved.
But…I could do that now, couldn’t I?
“Oh, Beau,” I said quietly, sitting up just enough to press a line of kisses down the scar. I hated that he’d ever been in a position like that. I hated that he’d had to endure so much—and for what? What was the point of it all? His heart was too good for this world.
Those same possessive, protective feelings that had been hovering on the fringes surged inside me, demanding I be his armor and keep him safe at any cost.