thirty-eight

EMMA

I watch Beau storm down the corridor, pressing his cell to his ear, as he grunts to Rocco about finding Rey. My angry stare never leaves his back but still, I don't really see him. Instead, my vision is blurred by frustrated tears welling in my eyes without my knowledge.

"Emma, I love you. But I can't do this right now." His words play over and over in my mind, each time making less and less sense. Can't do what, right now? Can't spare a few moments to talk to his girlfriend?

Mechanically and without any thought, I re-enter our suite, getting to my hands and knees to repack Beau's things when I nearly trip over a pair of jeans. As I fold his cut off band tees and leather jacket, the image of his face when he saw Beck cuts through my memory. Beck did this. Beck reached out to him, and just when Beau was warming to the mere idea of getting to know him, Beck pulled the rug from under him.

Beau had been right about him. The realization shatters me.

Dropping a pair of boots to the floor, I bring my face to my hands and wipe at the tears that have stained my cheeks. Is this my fault? Did I push Beau towards Beck... towards this?

Beau doesn't do anything he doesn't want to do, at least somewhat, I argue with myself internally.

Frustration explodes out of me and I let out a helpless shout, standing and kicking the remaining clothing across the room. Just then, my eyes flash down the entryway, into the main room, where the guitar should be waiting.

Heartbeat racing, I sprint into the room and nearly collapse with relief when I find it resting gently across the mattress, my card neatly tucked under the strings. Thank God Beck didn't find it.

Will any of it even matter now?

Beau is off, God knows where, to find Rey. And while I can't be truly angry with him for helping his friend - the memory of frenzied panic as I used to search for Beau still ripe in my thoughts - I can be angry with him for never putting us before her. Before anyone, or anything, it seems.

Even as I'm thinking the thought, fear rips through my chest. Beau has never looked so broken as when he first laid eyes on Beck, holding his wallet, no where close to ushering an apology. The look in his eyes... He didn't look angry or surprised, he just looked crushed.

After that was even worse. I shiver, the emptiness in Beau's expression horrifyingly similar to what it used to be, but even sadder somehow.

And then, as there always is with Beau, there was the anger. The explosive, red hot anger that tends to make him lash out.

I only realize I'm pacing when Zeus stomps his feet next to me, watching me with concerned, brown eyes. Sinking onto the edge of the mattress, I run my fingers through Zeus's fur, focusing on every worried inhale and exhale that I breathe.

I want to be here for Beau - God knows he needs it right now. But I don't know how to be - not when I don't know anything about his mother, or Beck, or Zoey. My head hits the plush comforter and Zeus crawls up to lay at my side.

I apparently don't know much about Rey, either, I admit to myself with a deep sigh. What do I know?

My eyes find the guitar and the little note concealed in its pale envelope, the champagne flutes resting on the night table, just beside a bottle of sparkling grape juice. I crack a small smile, the idea of Beau drinking bubbly juice making me chuckle, despite the numb feeling in my chest.

When I wrote his note, I wasn't sure what to say. His letter to me from those years ago had told me everything I needed to know, albeit just a tad too late. I wanted my note to do the same for him - to assure him that no matter what, I'm with him. In the end, as my pen hovered over the card, I could only think of one thing to say.

Repeating the words in my mind over and over, I sit up straighter on the bed, wipe the tears from my eyes, and patiently wait for Beau to return, feeling my frustrations calm as time passes.

He will come back. And we will be okay.

***

The suite door slams against the wall, a metallic thud grabbing my attention as it bounces off of the door stopper. My stomach twists sharply, a mixture of nerves and renewed excitement coursing through me.

It's Beau and me. We will work this out, and I'll give him his gift and at least for this evening, we will be okay. When we wake in the morning, we'll talk about everything and I will be there for him, however I can be. We didn't come this far for nothing, I have to believe that.

Raising my finger to my lips to tell Zeus to stay quiet, I carefully rise to my feet and tip toe towards the entry of the suite. A loud rustling halts my steps, followed by a fit of laughter.

Not laughter. Giggling.

It's like my body knows what's happening but my mind isn't quite caught up yet. My feet stumble forward, stomach clenched in knots, suspicion hanging over my head like a dark cloud.

As I turn the corner, faint whispers ebb towards me until they fade away, replaced by cold silence.

I stop dead in my tracks. Oh, how I preferred the whispering.

"Beau?" I barely hear my own voice, hardly aware that I'm speaking at all.

Even as they pull apart, the image of Beau kissing Rey is seared in my mind, playing over and over and over until it's all I can think of. Like ocean waves during a storm, shame and hurt and the horrible feeling of being right all along crash through my body.

By some miracle, I remain on my feet, even when Beau meets my eyes, a frenzy of emotions crossing his beautiful, heartbreaking face.

"Emma, wait!" Beau's shouting is the only way I know I've started walking, past Rey, out of the suite and down the hallway.

His voice shatters the last of my resolve, sending a shuttering sob through me. Covering my mouth with my hand, I keep walking until I'm furiously jamming my fingers against the elevator buttons.

"Emma!" I hear Beau stomping after me, but I keep my eyes on the floor, counting the seconds until the lift reaches me so I can get far away from here.

I knew it, I knew it, I knew it. Stupid, stupid, stupid. A small whimper hiccups out of me and I smash the button another time.

"Emma, let me explain, please." Beau's voice is hoarse and strained, the way it gets when he's about to spiral out of control.

It takes everything in me to act as though he's not just inches from me now, so close I can feel the warmth of his body against my arm.

"It was nothing Emma, you've got to believe me."

"Believe you?" I shout just as the elevator reaches our floor. A group of young women exits, laughing together loudly as if my world isn't crumbling right in front of them. "How can I believe you when you don't tell me anything?"

A couple of the women jump at my yelling, eyeing us like a spectacle at the zoo.

"I didn't kiss her Emma, she kissed me." Beau's brows crinkle over his eyes, his expression torn. Shoving a hand through his hair, he paces back and forth, furiously picking at the polish on his left hand.

"She might have kissed you," I shake my head, a tear dripping from my chin, "But I saw you kiss her back."

I step into the elevator and Beau sticks his hand between the doors, desperation written over his face.

"Can we just talk, please?"

I chuckle without humor, sniffling pitifully. "I've been begging you to talk to me, Beau. From the very beginning - all I've ever wanted is to hear you out. But you don't let me, not before, not now. Beck, Zoey," My heartbeat is painful inside my chest. "Rey. Even when I should be so angry with you, I try to listen." I inhale a shaky breath. "But you only ever want to talk once the damage is done."

His face falls even more, disappointment and shame coloring his expression, and I feel like I'm being torn in two. Part of me wants to comfort him, to tell him we will work this out. The other half is still busy replaying the kiss again and again, deepening the hurt and the anger with each passing second.

"Don't say that, I'm trying to -" He shakes his head, dark hair falling into his eyes so that I can't see them anymore.

"Trying?" My voice is raised again as I shake my head. "Kissing the girl you told me not to worry about - that's trying? I know we've both got things to work through, Beau, and I didn't expect us to be perfect. But come on,"

"It wasn't like that," He mumbles, dropping his head guiltily. "I wasn't kissing her, Em. It was... she's drunk and... it..." He sputters and even now, I know there's more that he's holding back. I try to be patient, to give him time, but he only raises his eyes to me slowly, defeat clouding his stare.

"Yeah." I nod, leaning back against the far wall of the elevator. "That's exactly what I'm talking about."

Beau is silent, watching me intently as if he wants to keep going but can't find the right words to say.

I know the feeling.

"I'd like to go get some air." I say firmly, staring at his hand between the doors.

He doesn't budge. "I know I've done stupid shit, Em. But with certain things... I just need you to trust me. You don't." My nostrils flare as I glare at him. How dare he talk about trust? Biting my tongue, I close my eyes tightly and try not to think of how badly this conversation hurts.

"Have you ever trusted me?" Beau asks quietly.

"Of course." I answer honestly, my eyes flashing to his face instantly.

"No," Beau is firm but his voice is soft. "I mean since we've been back together, after I hurt you the first time. Have you?"

I feel my chin jut out defiantly before I even have time to fully process the question. Even as I take in the words, I struggle to formulate an answer that is honest. Whether he deserves it or not, I've never lied to him before and I won't start now.

Seconds pass as I consider my answer, desperately wanting to tell him yes, but unable to make the words come out.

Beau clears his throat loudly, eyes darkening with disappointment. "That's what I thought."

We stare at each other for a few moments as the elevator pings again, reminding me to press a floor, neither one of us saying anything.

Just like I did before, I know what's coming before it happens, my body tensed for the ache that will surely follow.

"So what now?" I cross my arms over my chest, shivering even though it isn't cold.

"I don't know, Em." Beau shrugs casually, his intense stare the only thing that gives him away.

I try to swallow but the lump in my throat grows larger by the second, making breathing nearly impossible.

Everything I feel - my exasperation and desperation, my ache and fury, the emptiness creeping up on me - I can see written plainly over Beau's features, too.

Why are we doing this to each other?

A new wave of sadness washes over me, tears pooling in my eyes as my chin begins to quiver.

Taking a breath, I try to sound collected despite the dizzying state of my emotions. "I'll come back in a little to grab my things,"

"Oh," Beau replies flatly, nodding slowly and pushing his fingers through his dark locks. "Okay."

"Okay." I repeat, meeting his green eyes one last time before he drops his hand and the elevator slides closed.

Thanks for reading loves!

Personally I am crushed. How are y'all?