Page 25 of Hopeless
I spent most of my day off obsessively cleaning a seventeen-foot trailer that I barely make a mess in. When the smell of bleach nearly overpowered me, I chased myself out of there. Book in hand, I expected to sit by the river and wait for Beau.
But when I hit the riverbank and peer down toward the water … he’s there. Waiting.
His head snaps up at my approach and our eyes meet from across the water. Unlike last night, I can see him clearly in the sun’s fading light. Every hard line. The way his thighs strain against the simple swim trunks he’s wearing, the cut line of his quads blending down into his knees.
His white socks and dorky white sneakers.
He nods at me in acknowledgement and my stomach flips.
Sitting there on the shore, thick arms propped on the peaks of his knees, he looks casual, yet coiled and ready to spring into action at any moment. He looks haunted yet at peace.
He looks beautiful.
Too good. Good enough that I could end up standing here gawking at him while my lack of experience flaps in the wind.
So I offer a nod back and forge ahead, clearing my throat and dropping my gaze as I do.
On the path down to the river, my feet lose purchase, but I go with it. Years of taking this path in the dark make doing it in the light feel like child’s play. I slide down, still landing on my feet, even though my nails now have dirt stuck under them.
It’s when I right myself that I realize Beau has shot up to standing, the tips of his sneakers touching the water.
“You okay?” His voice echoes around us as he projects over the sound of rushing water.
Maybe he’s overbearing, but after a lifetime of being ignored or lavished with negative attention, his concern wraps around me like a warm blanket.
I feigned indifference, but I secretly got off on him tossing my brothers and their sketchy friend out of the bar.
His violence doesn’t scare me. It should. In most cases, it does. But with Beau, it feels different. Somehow, his vicious streak soothes me.
And standing here, caught in the snare of his concerned gaze, seeing his chest rising and falling, like he’s ready to blast across the river just to check if I’m okay … I already know what I’m going to tell him.
“We should do it,” I call back.
He goes deathly still. “Yeah?”
I nod, taking tentative steps toward the water, trying to act more casual than I feel. “Yeah. But we need to talk about it.”
The column of his throat works as he swallows, eyes narrowed in on me, like he can see right through the calm and collected facade I’m trying to put up. I struggle not to let my eyes skate down over his broad chest. Instead, I fixate on the day’s final rays of sun and how they hit the thick stubble over his jaw.
“Your place or mine?” I joke, trying to cut the tension.
His gaze drops to the water. “I don’t know if I can go in the water. I thought I wanted to, but … ”
My head tilts, urging him to explain.
“The burns. They were infected so badly before. I don’t know if I want to chance it.”
I’ve had it in my head he backed down yesterday because I’mme. To think the reason he didn’t join me in the water was health-related lessens the sting of him turning away.
“Are they healed?”
All he gives me is a shrug. I don’t know Beau well enough to push the conversation, so I remove my flip-flops, hooking them through my fingers as I make my way to the log that spans most of the river.
I can feel Beau’s gaze latched on to me in an almost unnerving way, but I keep my eyes cast down as I walk the log like a balance beam.
“Careful,” he grumbles when I get about halfway across.
I roll my eyes, but I don’t think he sees it. “Been doing this for a while now. I’m fine.”
