Page 87 of Love on the Run

She looked around at the mismatched, breakables scattered throughout the room. Was it really okay? She’d never broken anything on purpose.

Beau walked over to the wall and grabbed an ax. Lifting it above his head, he slammed it down on top of a thick stump where the blade jammed into the wood, splitting it in two.

The bat in her hands was heavy, and her palms itched. What would it feel like to break down the walls around her carefully guarded emotions?

Beau picked up a clear vase and rested it on top of a table in front of her before stepping back. She stared at the vase as she tried to talk her guarded mind into allowing her to break it. Why couldn’t she just do it?

When she looked up, Beau was beside her. He reached for her hand, and she lowered the bat to her side.

Beau kept his gaze locked on hers as he said, “I know the difference in your smiles now. You’ve been pretending to be happy for a long time because you think it’s expected, and I don’t like it.”

His light-brown eyes waited as she absorbed his words. She had been hiding behind a smile for as long as she could remember, but Beau was the one who noticed. He was the one who claimed to hate it as much as she did.

She allowed herself to think about the wedding—how Dean had betrayed her and embarrassed her, how he’d yelled at her and blamed her. She remembered his lies. He wasn’t the Christian he claimed to be. At least he wasn’t acting like it. He hadn’t apologized or shown regret.

To top it off, he hadn’t waited for her. She only wanted to share her body with her husband, but he’d given in to his physical desires with someone else.

Then her mom’s angry words came to join theparty. Her mom had tried to convince Anna to do everything within her power to keep Dean happy.

There were years of pent-up anger and heartache locked behind a door with her mother’s name on it. If she opened the door, could she ever stop the hurt inside from consuming her? Could she ever lock it safely behind that door again?

Probably not, but could she hang on the edge of this cliff her whole life? Would she ever be free if she didn’t make the move in this moment when Beau was offering it to her?

Anna pulled her hand from Beau’s and gripped the bottom of the bat with her uninjured hand. Pressure expanded and heated in her chest. Boiling with the lid on. Why didn’t she have the luxury of feeling? She’d never been allowed to make a fuss over anything. She’d been pushed to the side and erased her entire life.

And for what? Love? If Dean and her parents didn’t love her after she’d done all she could, maybe she was unloveable.

The vase sat temptingly on the table. When the pressure was too much, she raised the bat and swung, shattering it in one blow.

Her breaths came quick and hot. It wasn’t enough. She’d only cracked the door open, and she wanted more.

Gripping the bat with white knuckles, she smashed one fragile item after another until she’ddestroyed everything that could be broken in the room, including her heart.

Gasping for air, she dropped the bat and raised her hand to her throat. Hot tears slid down her cheeks as the sobs came, and her knees gave out.

Beau’s arms wrapped around her before her knees hit the ground, but she pushed against him.

“No, let me go! I don’t want to be babied!”

“I don’t think of you like that. You’re strong. You just?—”

“Should just be perfect. I should be perfect!” she screamed.

“No, you’re not perfect. No one is, but it’s okay.”

“I can’t cause problems for anyone. I can’t make mistakes. I can’t inconvenience anyone!”

Beau swiped a hand over his face and propped his hands on his hips. “You’re not a problem. You’re not a mistake. You’re not an inconvenience. You can cry and kick and scream, and I’ll still think you’re amazing. Anyone who doesn’t isn’t worth your time.”

What was he even saying? Why was he here, begging her to be the person she’d tried so hard not to be?

Why did he make her want to be different? Why hadn’t he seen the messed-up parts of her and run?

Anna swiped her hands over her cheeks, smearing mascara over her palm and wrist brace.Beau stood right in front of her, witnessing her absolute meltdown.

He took a step toward her. Then another. His gaze remained locked on hers as he approached her the same way the Crocodile Hunter used to creep up on snakes.

When they were mere inches apart, he raised his hands and wiped her tears. His calloused hands were rough against her smooth skin, but she leaned into the touch. He wiped the tears on his jeans before running his fingers into her hair and cradling her at the base of her neck and jaw.

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