My stomach plunges. “You didn’t answer my question.”
God, I can’t do this. I can’t let him back inside just to leave me again.
Beau’s brows draw together. “You’re going pale. Are you okay?” he asks, stepping closer. He reaches out a hand, but I hold up my own to stop him. I can’t. I can’t let him touch me.
He halts. “Have you eaten? Do we need to go inside?”
“A-answer th-the question.” My words rattle like a tea set on a garbage truck. “Why are you here?”
Beau’s dark eyes blaze against mine. His jaw clenches, and his chest rises and falls. “I’m here because I couldn’t stand it.” He bites off each word. “I couldn’t stand being without you.”
I suck in a shaky breath.
He sheds his backpack and takes another step toward me. He freezes when I let out a whimper. The sound startles both of us. But it’s clear I’m begging for mercy.
Please don’t hurt me again. I couldn’t bear it.
“Iris.” The look he gives me is stricken. “I was wrong. I thought I was strong enough to let you go, but I’m not. Can I please stay?”
I begin to shake. It’s everything I can do not to break down. “D-do you know what it’s like? To have someone you love walk away from you and never look back?”
Beau squeezes his eyes shut. “Oh, God, Iris.” He brings his hands to his face and drags them—violently—over his head. When he eyes me again, his expression is weighted down. “Your dad. I’m so sorry. I didn’t think—”
I gape. “You didn’t think it would crush me when you cut me out of your life?” I go from being dry-eyed to streaming tears in a matter of seconds. “To text you? To call you? Again and again? And getnothing?”
It’s Beau’s turn to lose his color. I watch him swallow. “I thought I was helping you.”
The laugh that leaves me burns like acid. “So ghosting me was a favor?” I reach into the tiny pocket of my running tights and yank out my key before stomping past him. “How rude of me not to saythank you.”
I jam the key into the lock and throw open the door. I turn to slam it behind me but Beau is there, his foot wedged into the door jamb.
His eyes flash wide. “Wait!” The word is a growl of anger and fear. “I fucked up. I’m sorry. Can’t we talk about this?”
“Why? So you can go back home with a clear conscience?”
“NO,” he roars. “SO I DON’T LOSE YOU AGAIN!”
His outburst stuns me silent. We stare at each other, both of us panting like wrestlers.
“Iris. I love you more than anything. I’m here to make things right,” he says, his voice raspy with emotion. “Can I please come in?”
Unsure if it’s the right thing—the safe thing as far as my heart is concerned—I pull the door wide.
Without taking his eyes off me, Beau lowers into a squat and grabs his backpack. “I’d leave this outside,” he says evenly, “but everything I own is in it, including my ticket home if you don’t take me back.”
It’s like a word tornado.Everything I own... my ticket home... take me back.Meaning swirls around me. I feel as ridiculous as a game show contestant in a wind tunnel filled with cash, grasping at treasure and coming up empty.
I watch Beau walk inside, and I hear myself ask, “What do you mean?”
“May I sit?” He gestures to the corner of my striped couch.
I nod.
He sits, putting the mysterious backpack that he claims carries all of his possessions at his feet. I should sit across from him in the matching loveseat with the rectangular coffee table as a buffer between us, but even still wearing that stricken expression, he looks so good on my couch.
He looks so good in my home.
I sink down on the opposite corner, one untouched, striped cushion separating us.
