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“I heard she left her purse with her”—he eyes me, then goes back to Dad—“date last night, so I went and got it from him for her.”
Dad holds his hand out to Beau. “Thank you.”
When they shake, I notice the way his knuckles are cut in multiple places, and one knuckle is a little black and blue. My eyes widen when Dad notices as well. He turns his hand over to examine it better, then turns his attention back to Beau, who nods as he stands even taller and doesn’t falter one bit.
“Good man,” is all dad says as he drops his hand and walks back to the living room, leaving Beau and me in the entryway.
“Are you okay?” I ask, not sure what else to say.
“Don’t worry about me. I did what needed to be done.”
I bring my purse up to my chest and hug it to me as I shyly say, “Thank you.”
He gives me a slight grin. “You know I’d do anything for you.”
Butterflies flap in my stomach, like they’re fighting the wind, and I have to take a deep breath to calm whatever is going on inside of me.
“Well, I guess I’ll head out.” He turns to leave, and I’m not sure what to do or say.
I want to stop him, but I know I shouldn’t.
“Thank you,” I yell out after a few moments go by.
He raises his hand in ayou’re welcomeway, but doesn’t turn to look at me as he heads to his truck and hops in.
As he drives away, Heather pulls up, and she’s faster than ever to get out of her car, obviously dying to know why Beau just left my house.
I guess my real life got a little more interesting than the movie we had planned on watching tonight.
CHAPTERTHIRTY
Junior Year
I wake up, freezing and not wanting to get out of bed when my CD player clicks on with my alarm playing the Unwritten Law album Beau gave me. It took me a while to want to listen to it again, but now that I have, I can see why he gave me a copy, as I’ve really enjoyed them.
The beat of my favorite song does little to wake me up, and instead, I wrap the covers around me tighter and turn to the side as I try to doze back to sleep.
Ten minutes later, my dad bangs on my door. “Time to get up!”
Ugh, I whine to myself.
I miss the days of my mom waking me up when I was younger.
She’d come in and wrap me in a hug, saying, “Good morning, sweetie,” as she kissed my forehead.
My dad doesn’t have anywhere near the same touch with his gruff pounding and coach-like words.
But on the other hand, because of his coach-like tone, I know if I don’t get out of bed right now, I’ll hear about it all morning, so I fling the covers off of me and get up with a huff.
I stumble to the bathroom, barely picking up my feet, and turn on the water. I get ready to hop in, praying the hot streams wake me up.
As I step in, I close my eyes and feel the heavenly coating of hot water covering me. I let it fall over me without even bothering to move around and actually showering.
After a few minutes, I sigh and finally turn around to get my hair wet and start the process of finally getting my day going.
Once I’m out of the shower, I move a little faster in getting ready for my first day of the new semester. We run out the door with my new schedule in my hand as I go over my day for the tenth time since last night. It’s my biggest fear to walk into the wrong class, so I try my hardest to memorize where I’m supposed to be and when.
I say good-bye to my dad and make my way to class, not really wanting to talk to anyone on my way.
