Page 41 of Darlin'

"I don't understand..."

"At the grad party, I met this dude who was road-tripping cross country," Beau explains. "Cool guy, couple years older. He was, uh—Bobby's cousin or something. Anyway, he was leaving the next day. Asked if I wanted to roll with him." Beau shrugs. "I said yes. That night, I grabbed my wallet and just left."

"But why didn't you leave a note or a message or something," I say, confused. "You just disappeared."

Beau frowns. "Ididleave a note. I left it on momma's vanity. I said, 'Going on a trip. Will call soon.'"

My mouth gapes open. "What the fu—" Jumping off the couch, I pace in front of Beau, unable to freaking process that my parents, my stupid, conniving, lying sack of shit parents, hid this from me all these years. "You left a note? A note? And momma didn't tell me? Daddy didn't tell me? What? Why would they do that? Why wouldn't they tell me anything?" I stare down at Beau. "Why?"

"Oh, you're actually asking me," Beau says in a light tone. "I thought you were just rambling."

My gaze hardens. "This ain't funny, Beau. Momma lied to me for years. I was worried about you for years. She knew that! She knew what I was going through, and she still didn't tell me that you were okay." I sit back down, burying my face in my hands. "Why didn't she tell me?"

"I don't know..." Beau rubs my back, calming me down. "Maybe...maybe she worried you'd leave too." He swallows nervously as I crane my head, peeking at him through my fingers. "When I called her, I uh— I ran out of money at that point. I asked her to send me some, but she said no. She told me that either I come home right away, or I shouldn't bother coming home at all. I—" He turns his face away from me. "Ididask to talk to you, Sav. I wanted to explain, but..."

"But what?"

"Momma said you didn't wanna talk to me," Beau explains. "She said that?—"

"What?" I seethe. "She said I didn't want totalk to you?" My vision shakes. "I..."

"I know I shouldn't have believed her." Guilt fills his tone as he continues, "I know that, but..." He glances at me. "But I did. I thought you hated me, Sav. I knew you were probably mad at me for not saying goodbye, and I guess I figured...I don't know...it was stupid. Maybe I was just young and naive, but I believed her...and I regret it every single day." I wipe an escaped tear off my cheek as I hold Beau's hand. He smiles down at our clasped fingers. "I'm sorry, Savannah. I should've called you. I wanted to. I really did. I picked up the phone so many times, but I always chickened out, and then, somehow...years went by, and it seemed too late."

"I've never hated you, Beau," I whisper. "Sure, there were days where I'd be so angry at you for leaving me, but I never hated you. How could I? You're my baby brother." Scanning his grown-up features and the new artwork onhis neck, I sigh. "Guess baby's not the right word anymore, huh?"

Beau lets out a nervous chuckle, cringing. "Not a fan of the tats, I take it?"

"Umm..." I blink, forcing a smile. "They're uh...they're something."

"Polite as ever, I see." Beau snorts, tracing the black and grey realism rose on his neck. "I don't know...it might sound strange, but this version of me—" He shrugs. "It feels the most real." He grabs a bottle of water from the floor and takes a sip as we sit in silence for a couple of beats. "Umm..."

"What?"

Beau bites his lip. "What did uh—" He clears his throat. "What did momma say when you told her you uh—found me,I guess?"

I snort. "She saidthat's nice." Realization dawns on me. "Oh my God..."

"What?"

"If Momma knew you where you were, and I told her I was coming here, then she must have known you'd tell me that you tried to reach out, and I've talked to her since, and she never once evenactednervous...wow. She's really got no shame, huh?"

Beau blinks. "What?"

"Never mind," I say, sighing. "Just another weave in the web of Kingsley lies." I take the bottle of water from Beau and take a swig. "By the way, momma thinks I've been staying with you all week, so I guess the apple doesn't fall too far from the tree. Oh, and she doesn't know about"—I motion around the clubhouse—"all thiseither. Another lie. I told her you were working in sales."

Beau chuckles. "Mean you're not wrong. Just a different kind of sales."

"I don't think that's funny, Beau." My gaze floats up to his bullet wound. "That could've easily been your heart."

"Nah, this right here is just part of the job." Beau waves me off. "I'll be good as new in no time."

"And then what?" I ask, lifting a brow. "You're just gonna spend the rest of your life dodging bullets to make a quick buck?"

Beau tenses up. "I'd take a bullet over 'Bama any day of the week."

"You're serious?" I ask. "You really mean that? This? All the shady shit y'all do? Getting shot at? That's honestly better than coming home?"

Beau snorts. "Coming home? Savannah, thisismy home. These people are my family."

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