Looking at places to live without him here feels wrong. Especially after that smug little bomb he dropped on me right before leaving my truck. So casual. Like he’s known all along what I don’t.
I press my palm against the center of my chest to press away the ache there as I ride the elevator down to the lobby. I’m pretty sure this isn’t the spot for me. Not only because I’m almost positive no one wants to rent their place to a girl who cries over a dining room, but also because that dining room is simply not big enough.
I miss Beau more intensely in this moment than I have in the past three days.
I wonder what he’s doing.
I wonder how he’s feeling.
I wonder if he knows what he’s doing.
I wonder if he’ll regret changing his life for me. And the weight of that is downright crushing.
I don’t go to my next appointment. I don’t think I can handle looking at another dining room and wondering about Beau. What I want is to crawl into bed with him and have him hold me.
I don’t text him. I just drive back to the fire hall, prepared to wait for him if I have to.
But I don’t have to.
When I pull up, he’s seated on a bench in the sun, knees slung open, phone held low while he scrolls the screen.
You’d think for a tier one operator he would notice me across the street, but he doesn’t. So I watch him. He smiles and his shoulders vibrate on a laugh.
I wonder what he’s watching.
I wonder how his interview went.
I wonder how long he’s been waiting.
I wonder if he’s hungry or if he ate lunch.
I wonder if he’d be okay with me coming to sit beside him.
It feels like my brain is just an ode to Beau Eaton. I think about him all the fucking time. Worry about him. Crave him.
I’m staring at him when he finally glances up, like he finally felt me here, soaking him in. Spellbound by him.
Not for the first time today, he hits me with a smile that makes my entire body warm. It’s genuine and soulful, and so damn boyish.
I love that smile.
With no further overthinking, I turn the key to stop the ignition and step out of the truck. After a quick glance in both directions, I’m walking to him. Okay, more like jogging.
“Hi,” I whisper as I stand in front of him, my eyes getting lost in his.
“Hi,” he says, patting the bench beside him.
I take a deep breath and sit down next to him. The wooden slats are warm beneath my bare legs, and I feel safe next to Beau’s strong body. “How was the job interview?”
“I got the job.” His voice brims with pride, and my eyes sting. “And not because they knew who I was. They’ll put me straight into a training group because of my JTF2 experience. And that … I earned that. I worked really hard to get into that unit. It’s a big part of who I was, who I’ll always be. I miss it. But I was offered a chance at a job today based on that merit. It’s not a favor from a friend or a built-in job from my family.”
He turns now to look at me, shoulder bumping mine lightly. “Been sitting here thinking about today. It feels good to be wanted because you bring something to the table. I’m really proud about this possibility, Bailey. It feels like I earned it. And I’m sorry I took that away from you.”
I hum, or sob. I’m not sure which, but it lodges in my throat, and I blink my lashes wildly to keep from crumbling in front of him. “Thank you,” I whisper, and then I reach across the sun-baked wood and take his hand in mine. Calloused fingers envelop my own, and I sigh, enjoying his touch.
I close my eyes and soak up the moment.
“Did you find us a nice place to live?”
“No. I couldn’t look without you.”
His fingers pulse.
“Actually, I went to one. She showed me the dining room, and I started crying.”
“Why? Was it nice?”
“No.” I sniff, feeling the tears slip out past my lashes. “It was too fucking small for our family dinners.” I finish the sentence with a true sob, one that he hears loud and clear.
“Oh, Bailey.” His voice is so tender, and his grip is so firm as he gathers me against him. Strong arms encircle my shoulders. “Baby, please don’t cry. I’ll do anything to make you not cry. I’m so fucking sorry.”
I bury my face in the crook of his neck and breathe him in. “Don’t lie to me again. Ever. Don’t pull the rug out from under me again. Ever.” I draw back, gripping his handsome face in my hands, searching his eyes. “I fucking missed you. God. Even when I’m furious with you, I want to be with you.”