Page 40 of When You Wish Upon a Wideout

My eyes widened. “Careful. That could get you capital punishment in Texas.”

Beau let out a chuckle. “Would you love sprinting and being tackled all the time? Do you know why I run so fast? It’s not to score. It’s to avoid being hit.” He sighed, his face growing serious. “This was Greg’s dream, not mine.”

I knitted my brow together.

“I’m able-bodied. I’malive. I have a chance. He didn’t. It should be him, not me. But I’m here, and he’s not.” Beau’s eyes grew dark in the glow from the streetlight. “I’m doing it for him.”

I swallowed heavily and waited for him to continue.

“He gave up his life for me.”

Beau ran a finger along the scar at his temple, and my heart squeezed. I knew it was hard as hell to walk around and live life while missing someone who was such a big part of who you are. And to bear that burdenandcarry a physical reminder too... I hurt for him.

“That sounds an awful lot like you’re living for someone else,” I told him. “I can’t imagine he’d want to see you do something you hate.”

“Maybe I don’thateit,” he admitted. “But I’m not sure I love it the way he did.”

“Then why do you work so hard?”

Beau trains hard, Mom. He gives it his all, and I didn’t understand how someone could go all out for something that wasn’t really in their heart.

“I want his death to mean something,” Beau admitted. “To me, to my parents, to everyone.”

“It already does,” I told him.

Beau remained quiet, looking at the paper. “Iwant to mean something,” he whispered.

“You already do.” Without thinking, I reached out and covered his hand with mine.

The moment our eyes met I nearly stopped breathing. Beau turned his hand beneath mine so our palms were touching. “Do I mean something to you?”

The uncertainty in his voice made my heart hurt. I don’t know how I ever let myself forget that Beau once meant everything to me. I don’t know how I letyoumake me forget, Mom.

“You always have,” I admitted with a cracked voice. I looked at our hands. I hated mine was shaking as I wondered if he might link our fingers together.

Beau cleared his throat and let go. “I guess if football gets me out of here, it’s not for nothing.”

It wasn’t for nothing. I know this. I know what a scholarship means, and I also know Beau is on a track for not just one, but one somewhere really great. It looks like Beau will go to Florida State next year. And I guess I’m happy for him if he’s happy. But I have no colleges on my list in Florida. They’re all in Texas. Who knew geography could be bittersweet? It’s more than bittersweet, though, thinking that a year from now, we’ll be settled in different places. It’s actually painful to think about and I remembered the first few weeks after we moved back. There I was, climbing to the roof for more space when I really had never felt more alone in my entire life.

“You’ll get out too.”

What Beau doesn’t know is that I’m not worried about getting out of Brookwood. I’m worried about beingmewithouthimagain, like I was when we moved away as a kid. Only this time, Mom, I won’t have you to pull me out of that awful feeling.

“That photo might land you a job at Sports Illustrated one day.” He tilted his head up toward the sky. “Go on, wish it.”

I rolled my eyes. “I don’t want to work for Sports Illustrated.”

“No. Wish to get out of here,” Beau told me. “We don’t belong here, Sienna. There’s nolifehere. It’s just day after day, and a game or two of football sprinkled in. There’s a whole world out there we haven’t even stepped foot in.”

Beau was right, Mom. I still have never been to the ocean.

“Where is there life?” I asked.

“Just about anywhere else.”

That made me laugh because I thought the same when we came back to Brookwood, missing the charm and culture of Nashville, the music, the people. But the truth is, since Beau and I started hanging out, I’m finding there’s a lot of life to live here, even if it’s quiet and sometimes boring. With the right person, it’s not all that bad. All the other stuff—like dipping my feet into the ocean, or running through Provence’s lavender fields—that’s just a bonus.

I humored him, though, and focused on a star above us.

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