“Give me those sounds, beautiful.”
I swallow her moans as she comes undone, clenching around both of us.
“Coming,” Beau gasps. “Fuck, I’m coming.”
The thought of filling her up has me spurting, too. We collapse into a heap of limp arms and legs, pressing lazy kisses to any skin within reach.
“Beau,” I murmur.
“Yeah?”
“You should stay with me after your surgery.”
I’d been thinking about it since the flight over. We can keep a better eye on him that way. Get him to his appointments. Make sure he’s actually resting.
Two pairs of beautiful, hopeful eyes fall on me.
“Would be better that way, don’t you think?” I ask.
“Definitely,” Stas agrees.
Beau’s not as quick to jump on board.
“What’s it gonna take to convince you, trouble?”
His dimples slowly appear, his mischievous nature activated. “I don’t know. What are you willing to give me?”
I grip his jaw in my hand. “I think the answer to that would scare you.”
His smile falters as his eyes shine with emotion. “Doubtful. But yeah, I’ll come bum some more at your place.”
“Good.” I give his cheek a little pat. “Shower time.”
They both groan in protest. Ever the provider, I gather them up over a shoulder and carry them into the bathroom to wash them.
thirty-five
Liam
Cold sweat sticks my black t-shirt to my skin as I take my fourteenth lap around the hospital.
My hands are trembling from the amount of caffeine I’ve consumed since we arrived at 5:30 A.M., permitting Beau enough pre-op time before his 7 A.M. craniotomy.
I’m not typically an anxious person. Stress was never a factor for me when I was in the limelight, mostly because I didn’t give a shit about what anyone thought outside of the band.
Right now, though, I’m a wreck internally. The waiting game is killing me. I’ve left someone I love in the hands of strangers—professional doctors, no less—but that doesn’t ease the churning sickness in my gut. That doesn’t change the fact that there’s a chance I won’t see that dimpled smile ever again. A chance he won’t ever hold an instrument or write another song.
No matter the result of this surgery, I’m going to be here for him. I just worry about the aftermath. How crushed he’ll be if he doesn’t bounce back like he expected to.
Stopping at the small booth in the lobby once more, I order another two cups of steaming coffee and a club sandwich. I ride the shaky elevator back up to hand the food and extra drink over to Stasi in the designated waiting area of the neuro unit.
“Thank you,” she murmurs, setting a notebook aside with details on Hail and Z’s upcoming wedding. After tearing into the wrapper, she takes a big bite and slumps in satisfaction.
Just as much as I’ll be monitoring Beau, I’ll be doing the same for her. Stasi will take on the weight of the world, willing to let it crush her if it means keeping it off the shoulders of others.
I took her phone two hours into Beau’s surgery so people would stop hounding her for updates. I’ve been communicating with Dave personally.
I’m not gonna lie, it would be easier to relax if I had a cigarette, but I decided to quit that shit on the flight to retrieve Beau, terrified I would contribute to the growth of that stupid fucking tumor if he was exposed to more smoke.
