Beau deflates with a heavy sigh. “You weren’t ready.”
“No, I wasn’t,” I agree, glancing up at the night sky. “I’m the most afraid of myself when I get close to others.”
Beau flips his hand so our fingers entwine. “Does that have anything to do with your comment about not getting to be a kid?”
“Everything to do with it. I spent my childhood keeping an abusive, alcoholic father alive. In the end, I failed.”
“Shit. Liam.”
Sucking in a deep breath, I prepare to let it all out tonight. “I spent a lot of years convinced love didn’t exist because I’d never experienced it.”
He gives my hand a squeeze, and my gaze drifts back to him, my pulse thudding faster at the naked emotion displayed on his pretty face. That lock of white has curled funky over his brows, the ends sticking straight out to the side.
“And what do you think now?” he asks softly.
“I think it’s inevitable that I’m going to fall in love, whether I deserve it in return or not.”
The sight of a tear sneaking down his cheek stops my heart. I reach over with my other hand to brush it away. “Beau. I’m not sharing this to excuse my shitty behavior. I’m truly sorry for hurting you. I’m sorry for assuming you’d bounce back like I was nothing more than a way to waste time between shows.”
He nods frantically, but then the tears really begin to fall. He pops up to his feet and paces. “Ugh, sorry. This is embarrassing. Here I thought I’d planned a perfect day, and I’m ruining it by crying.”
Stasi appears in the doorway. “Screw that.”
Her words are delivered with more force than I’ve ever heard from her. I fucking love it. I loved hearing her lay into Hail on the phone when he was having meltdowns about his performances. Her voice would take on a little southern twang she does her best to downplay.
Thinking about Hail has my jaw clenching. Is he going to understand any of this? I’ve been so adamant that a relationship wasn’t in the books for me. Add in the fact that he’s got a solid grasp on just how many one-night stands I’ve had…
I file away the troubling thought for another night.
Beau remains stunned in place as Stasi moves in front of him. “You didn’t ruin anything. It was a perfect day.”
He crumples, arms winding around her waist and head resting on her shoulder. They rock side-to-side for a while, soaking up each other’s comfort.
“How do we finish this date, Beau?” I ask gently.
Sniffling, he eases away from Stasi. “Well, it’s after midnight. Technically, I think the date is over.”
“Only if you want it to be,” I reply.
Beau glances around in confusion. “Is this real life or a dream?”
“A dream, for sure.” I nod.
“Then I want to sleep forever.”
Taking their precious hands in mine, I lead them through the kitchen, right past the mess we made preparing food to cook, and into my music room. Other than my giant bed, it’s the most comfortable spot in my house.
Stasi sits with me on the floor, our backs supported against the couch. Beau doesn’t move from the doorway. He hasn’t quite bounced back to his normal, sassy, troublemaking self.
“You bought an 8-string acoustic,” he comments.
I glance at the newest guitar in my collection—a sexy, mahogany piece finished in a midnight blue that matches his eyes. I know it’s his favorite brand to play, and it’ll accompany his voice beautifully when he finally decides to record a track.
“It’s yours,” I say.
Beau’s brows knit together. “Oh,hellno. I don’t care how much money you have. I’m not accepting this.”
“Leave it here then. Doesn’t change the fact that I bought it for you.”
