One week later
What a difference a month made.
A single moment had changed me to the core. Being in the right place at the right time began to look more like destiny than chance. The way life aligned for me, locking into place, had me considering all the challenges Beau and I faced. One by one, we knocked them down together.
If the resort hadn’t faced its difficulties, if his grandparents hadn’t put up such a fight, I might not have ever met Beau. Yeah, fate took on a tangible meaning in my life. It became real and fluid, and I’d appreciate it every moment for the rest of my life.
“Amelia’s nice,” Beau said absently, staring out the passenger side window. We held hands as much as I could while handling the stick shift. Apparently, my selfishness knew no bounds. I did my best to occupy all our time, keeping Beau to myself. The idea of parting with him to complete my fall semester took on a bleak, desolate outlook.
When had I become so emotional?
I couldn’t ask that same question about becoming controlling, I’d been that since birth.
“She’s having a well-deserved vacation. I’m in a place that takes care of everything for me. Her tan’s coming on strong. I’m also sure she didn’t need to come here. I’m responsible and honest…” Beau interrupted me before the outrage tumbled from my lips again.
My only real issue with Amelia was her keen eye. She knew me and watched me closely. And that was technically okay too. She approved of Beau. She hadn’t forbidden Beau’s nights spent with me. She stayed discreetly away, never in my way.
“Says the guy who stole his niece’s car every night to come see me.”
All right, mister. One eyebrow cocked at the refute. Clearly, we needed to make a few new rules. When I launched into a baseless complaint, Beau should agree with me instead of introducing reason and truth into the mix.
When he glanced at me, he said, “I win.”
“You always do. It’s very annoying,” I remarked sharply, downshifting to take the turn to his house.
He casually shrugged me off in the typical air of competitive arrogance, causing me to laugh. I guessed facts were facts.
As we drew closer to Beau’s house, I noticed three police vehicles parked in front of his grandparents’ home. My gut sank at the possibilities, none of them were good. My father said he’d help. “What’s going on?”
Beau swung his head toward the front windshield and reached for the cell phone in his back pocket. At the same time, the front door opened. A commotion spilled out into the yard.
“That’s my dad,” he said in that fearful way he used when speaking of his father. “Drive to the house. Hurry.”
The tension in the car escalated in the few moments it took to arrive in front of the home. We watched his grandfather grasphis father's forearm then get shoved several feet backward until he tumbled hard to the ground. The police, who had created a u-shape around the front porch, finally intervened, attempting to manage the growing volatile situation that had Beau visibly upset.
Without hesitation, he leaped from the car before I came to a full stop. He left the door wide open as he sprinted toward his grandfather. “Keep your hands off him. His heart’s weak.” He bellowed with a vicious voice. Maybe the meanest I’d ever heard. “Get away. Why’re you here?”
“That’s him. Put him in my truck.”
I stood corrected. His father was loud, commanding and sounded like a demon from the depths of hell. Beau evaded one officer to get to his grandfather’s side. Tears streamed down his mom’s face as she spoke urgently on her cell phone, requesting an ambulance. Her gaze fixed on me.
I broke the boundary lines I hadn’t yet crossed and hurried to Beau’s grandfather’s side. He was unconscious, with his wife kneeling on the other side of Beau.
I hadn’t paid much attention in health class, but with the blood near his head, I remember the teacher telling us to elevate the head and shoulders slightly. I removed my polo shirt and wadded it up to place under his head, hoping I wasn’t making everything worse. “I believe he should lay still and his body straight, just in case there’s a spinal cord injury.”
“I’m sorry,” Mrs. Brooks said, drawing my attention to her anguish. She passed the phone to her mom and came to Beau, drawing him up. Her hands covered each of his cheeks. They stood inches apart.
Her words tumbled out so rapidly it was hard to understand. “Your dad has a legal order to take you back to Alabama. They know about you and Dash. They have photos. I’ll fight this Beau. I promise you.” She circled her arms around him, hugging himtightly. “Do what he says. Don’t be defiant. He’s promised not to hurt you. I’ll be back with you in Alabama as soon as I can get there.”
“I’m goin’ back to Alabama?” He stared at his mother in utter confusion. My brain blipped as I tried to grasp the seriousness of what was happening to Beau.
“Son, this doesn’t have to be difficult. It’d be better for everyone if you voluntarily got inside your father’s truck,” an officer said with empathy, keeping a courteous distance from Beau and his mother.
“Fuck that,” his father yelled and pointed to the truck between the patrol cars. “Get in the fuckin’ truck. I’m tired of all this. You’re legally in my custody.”
He held a file folder in hand with a picture of Beau and I at the Fourth of July fireworks celebration. I’d purposefully stood behind him, admiring his ass. I hadn’t let up on my request for a PDA. Reluctantly Beau placed his hand between me and him. The handhold had only lasted about fifteen seconds. Who had been there to take our picture? I hadn’t seen any photographers for days.
The fault of the day rested solely on my shoulders.
