Total pages in book: 179
Estimated words: 170878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 854(@200wpm)___ 684(@250wpm)___ 570(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 170878 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 854(@200wpm)___ 684(@250wpm)___ 570(@300wpm)
I leapt off the couch, rushing over to him.
He watched me, but with a vacant stare in his eyes. No menace. No irritation. No, he was looking at me like I was … an anchor.
“Beau,” I whispered. “You’re soaking wet.”
He was still wearing his coat. Water was beading from his hair, his beard, dropping delicately onto the floor. His boots were ringed with a small puddle. Even that small detail signaled that something was very wrong. Beau never wore his boots inside. No one did. It was a rule about germs. He was militant about it.
Without realizing what I was doing, I brushed the wet hair from Beau’s face. He was ice-cold. When he flinched at my touch, I was about to jerk my hand away, preparing for some kind of sharp insult or reprimand.
But, in a blur, he lifted his arm, circling my wrist in a tight grasp. My skin tingled. He pressed my hand to his jaw, into the rough, wet hair of his beard. He even leaned into it.
His hand was freezing, his eyes still gaping chasms of grief, pain.
We stayed there. Him dripping, breathing heavily, his eyes terribly empty, plastered on me. And he wasn’t just seeing me. It felt as if he were latching onto me so he didn’t … drift away.
“Beau,” I whispered, my hand still on his cheek. “What happened?”
It was bad. Whatever happened was bad. For him to let me touch him. For him to need me to touch him, if the strength of his grip was anything to go by.
My wrist was beginning to sting, bordering on painful. There would be a bruise there tomorrow.
But I didn’t try to move my hand.
Beau didn’t answer me straight away. He kept breathing, holding on to me. “Calliope,” he finally rasped.
My heartbeat stuttered, and my throat closed. I didn’t know Calliope well, but I liked her. She was the reason I had been welcomed into the group of women here in Jupiter. Elliot was in love with her, their father adored her. She was Clara’s favorite aunt—even if she was her only aunt as Beau repeatedly pointed out. Clara was besotted with her.
I wanted to ask questions. A lot of them, but I didn’t want to press Beau when he was like this. I didn’t know what to do, so I just stayed where I was, cupping his jaw.
“She was so cold,” he sighed. “Not breathing. But we got her back. I think I got her back for Elliot.” He sounded so lost, so much younger than he was. So afraid. I realized I’d relied on Beau’s surety, even when it came with arrogance and sometimes cruelty. He was something to rely on. Someone to rely on.
And in that moment, he needed that from me.
“You did.” I sounded more confident than I had a right to be since I didn’t know a single thing. “You got her back.”
I chewed my lip, wondering what I should do. He was cold. Shivering. He’d been out in the rain, at the very least. There was a faint scent of salt that hinted at the ocean. Why would he have been in the ocean during a thunderstorm…? Calliope.
My brain put together details, and even if they didn’t entirely fit or make sense, I recognized that nothing was good.
“I have to go. Calliope, Elliot—” Beau jolted as if he were going to turn around to get back into his truck.
Which I didn’t doubt he would do. I’d learned a few things about Beau over the months. Not just that he could be a massive dick, and that he was a good father. He was stoic. Would do anything for his family. He wanted to fix things. Control them.
“I’ll bet Calliope has lots of people helping her right now.” I took an educated guess, assuming that Beau wouldn’t have come home unless Calliope was either recovering from whatever happened or in the hospital.
“Who doesn’t have someone helping them right now is you, Beau,” I added softly. “Will you let me help you?”
When his chin jerked up and his eyes clouded, I braced.
“I don’t need help.” He spoke more harshly, except it was nowhere near as menacing as he was capable of, nor did he let go of my hand.
“Humor me.” I forced a smile.
After staring at me, searching my face for a long moment, he nodded once.
My breath caught for just a second, a shifting of tectonic plates under me. Beau surrendered. Agreeing to let me help him. It was an honor, even if a rational person might not have thought so, given his prior behavior toward me.
“Okay. I’m going to get the shower running.” I said the words, but I didn’t move. I was so close to him. Our bodies were almost pressed together. My hand was still on his cheek, his on my wrist.