Hopeless (Chestnut Springs, #5)(35)

“You better not have taken a cab back here.” He points a finger at me like I’m in trouble.

But all it does is make me squirm against the canvas fabric of my chair.

“Or what?” I quirk my head in challenge, my iced coffee taking effect and perking me up a bit.

The carefree expression he was wearing melts from his face as he steps fully out onto the porch. A zing rushes through me as I force myself not to sit up and straighten under the weight of his gaze. I’ve trained myself to appear casual when I don’t feel it for years now. It should be easier than this where he’s concerned, but my skin prickles and my legs squeeze together.

There’s a sinful twist to his mouth, one that could be mistaken for playful—but I know better. It only lasts a beat and then it’s gone, washed away by the shake of his head. “Or you might find yourself stuck being fake engaged to me longer than necessary.”

That has me shooting up out of my chair. My instinct is to rebel against that line of thinking, tell him I’m not stuck with him at all.

I think I feel freer in his presence than I have … ever.

“Shhh!” I whisper-shout at him instead, finger held against my lips, eyes wide. “Shut up! Cade was here sniffing around for you like thirty minutes ago, Mr. Undercover.”

A broad palm runs through his freshly trimmed hair. “Great. Nothing like being babysat by my big brother.”

“Did you ditch work to get a haircut?” His haircut stands out to me because I’m actually taking him in rather than being overwhelmed by his presence.

He rolls his shoulders back and looks away. “I was due.”

“Beau. You can’t just ditch work to get your hair cut, especially when your family is relying on you.”

“I needed one.”

“Yeah, but—”

“I hate working the ranch,” he blurts, cutting me off. “Bailey … I fucking hate it. I made a promise to my family and now they depend on me to follow through. But I don’t feel like myself. I don’t care. I stand in a field, and I stare at those fucking cows, blinking back at me stupidly with their too-long eyelashes,”—I stifle a laugh—“and I am just monumentally bored. Bored to the point of misery.”

I go from almost laughing to rubbing my sternum, trying to push away the heavy ache that’s taken up residence in my chest.

“Like, no one even knows the shit I’ve done. The importance of the things I was doing. My missions? They saved lives, they changed the world. And now? Now I’m supposed to … fix fences?” He sighs, his tall frame shifting down incrementally. “It makes me … ”

“Angry?” I provide, because I can feel it. I know the way the air tastes when someone is angry, can feel the surrounding oxygen thicken with it.

I know an angry man. I grew up in a house full of them. But with Beau, even when he’s angry, I feel safe.

“Yeah.” His hands link behind his head and he watches me, gray eyes almost shrink-wrapped in tears. “And it’s fucking depressing.”

My tongue darts out over my lips as I consider his outburst, try to put myself in his shoes—his head. I don’t know a single thing about what it’s like to feel that way. And who am I to tell him he’s wrong?

“It is,” I agree, slapping my bare thighs as I push to standing. He seems startled, either by my sudden motion or my words. I’m not sure which. “I know all about living a depressing life, so, like, high five on that. Now let’s go do something fun.”

“Fun like what?” His suspicious expression almost makes me laugh out loud.

I give him a once-over, from head to toe. My gaze catches on his bright white Adidas Superstars, now smudged with dirt and grass.

“Like getting you some shoes that don’t rub you raw.” I wave a finger back and forth between his feet. “And maybe not so white. Doesn’t suit you.”

“What suits me?” He asks me like he doesn’t know. In fact, I get the sense that part of Beau’s problem these days is that he hasn’t reconciled the before version of himself with the after version.

It turns out, going missing in the desert for days on end changes a person. I’m not sure why this surprises anyone. And I’m not sure why anyone expects him to be the way he was before it happened.

I guess that’s why I shrug and say, “I don’t know. Let’s go find out.”





14


Beau


Beau: Hi. Bailey said you were looking for me.

Cade: At least you talk to someone.

Beau: Probably because she isn’t up my ass like the rest of you.

Cade: Must be terrible having a family who cares about you. I feel just awful.

Beau: Care a little less.

Cade: Okay, no problem. Keep cutting out on work to do god knows what and I’ll fire you.

Beau: You can’t fire me. I’m your brother.

Cade: Yeah, and I sign your paycheck. I think you’re gonna need it to pay off that ring. Or did you skip work to go mine it yourself?

Beau: Worth it. Looks good on her.



The minute we open the door to the shoe store, Bailey changes. The girl who chatted away in the car, hands gesturing around as she explained her plan to become a chiropractor, evaporates like a splash of water on a hot griddle.